#personally I don’t do thought out reviews because I don’t have the brain power immediately after watching movie

[foxmulderautism]

my hot take is i like letterboxd silly one liner reviews i think they’re fun sometimes it’s fun to have a joke and a laugh after watching something with the Movie Heads in my phone. the problem with them is people sometimes try too hard to get a Hit Most Liked Review + the people who do them for movies you should absolutely not be responding to with a silly one liner. time and place etc

[writerofjourneys]

My Rants: Honest Opinions

My Problem With KaSumi|re Yoshizawa/Violet

A/N: If you just love to make hate messages over personal thoughts over what someone thinks and are willing to accept the character that is being written about, who you don’t even know, on their posts just because of it then what’s even the point of having a matter of honest opinions anyways?

Fandom(s): Persona 5: Royal

Summary: Yoshizawa rubbed me off the wrong way since the moment I saw her. I immediately got the sense of ‘Market Seller Waifu For Increase In Sales For Royal’ after seeing her unoriginal thief getup. And I’m unapologetic to admit that she’s my LEAST favourite character despite the amount of positive reviews she’s had after Persona 5 Royal’s release and the hate attacks on anyone who thinks differently. She really does have potential. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it after the Atlus announcement for Xbox and PC. Then I figured, I thought to finally expel these annoying thoughts in order to release my pent up frustration and understanding of her away and my perspective changing, not a lot, but changing somewhat.

So here’s why.

Warnings: Spoilers for Persona 5: Royal.

My Conversations with Others Regarding This Topic (think of it like extensions from this post): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Main Masterlist

Or as I call her: the tropey Doormat Kohai.

I know. I put her in my story but things will be different as the chapters progress. I am actually interested in how her character adds to the game’s story, but it really only happens for Third Semester. But how Atlus did her involvement feels like wasted potential. A rewrite would help, I think.

The only time she really does anything in the real world is defend and help Joker when he is arrested, but ALL his confidants do that! They’re supposed to do those things after he deepens his bonds to max level, there is nothing new or unique about it with her!

A side note: I find it humorous that crossovers adding Yoshizawa just have to be emphasized with Royal and not simply Persona 5 even though Royal is Persona 5 in general, or I suppose to emphasize update.

Her very presence is a shoehorn. Her appearances never really feels natural. She just pops in and out whenever she wants. I would’ve honestly forgotten her if it wasn’t for Third Semester.

Her looks are an uncreative and reusable mix of FeMC, Mitsuru, Yuko and from P3.

Overly attached to Joker because he’s pretty much the only person she wants to revolve around in her life. She hardly interacts or befriends anyone else. Her gymnastics club members, classmates, other schoolmates, her parents who barely show relevance to her personally, other honour students (there’s no way in hell she’s the only one), and the thieves. As Kasumi, for someone who acts like an extroverted socialite it doesn’t really make sense as to why she doesn’t. Which might be because any acquaintance feels off about her because of her cognition that they don’t talk to her but I don’t get how pretty much anyone doesn’t even have a simple conversation with her. But it’s probably just a front for her Sumire side. But if she truly wanted to be everything Kasumi was, then having that socialite behaviour would’ve made sense. Kasumi’s extrovert personality is the main point about what it means to imitate her. Her mentality was ALL about her obsession with Kasumi, before and after her death. The way her brain works is weird with Maruki’s mind powers.

And about the thieves; they, for some reason, blindly love her so much after only meeting, like, twice in the real world. They don’t know her as much and have rarely interacted or hung out outside the Metaverse. Not as much or as close to as Joker. She kind of bypasses them.

She does not contribute anything to the main plot except for 3rd Semester. Which is at the end of the game. Her first entrance to “save” Joker in Sae’s Palace was wasteful. He’s, not counting Mona, the most experienced fighter out of all the thieves. Joker did not need her help in any way shape or form. P5 vanilla proves that, he didn’t need any of the other thieves as backup when he was evading the Shadows. He’s the freaking main character! Joker’s supposed to have the spotlight for the player. She even said it herself that she’s not a member of the Phantom Thieves so she has no right to interfere, and interferes anyway. It’s just a lazy introduction to a new character. Why is her All-Out Attack the first we even see?? And that gives the thieves a reason to have her for their “Hey, We Saved The World From Corruption By Taking Down a False God” party? She didn’t even help in the fight with Yaldabaoth. So I could hardly count her as a member.

KaSumi/re���s social link for the first couple of ranks go the SAME route. You do a family friendly activity, she falls into her so called “slump”, you cheer her up, she promises to work harder than ever, and the cycle repeats five times to the point where it’s predictable and easy to gain her rank up. How is that interesting? She phrases her slump like it’s a small thing that she doesn’t know the cause for, hindering her performances and believing that it’s a lack of confidence.

There was nothing off about her being Kasumi in the first place that led to the indication that she wasn’t actually Kasumi. Her attitude stays the same, perky, polite, overly positive, being an airhead (that goes for Sumire too. Seriously, how does one take crappy code names as Appetite and Leotard into actual consideration? How do unused scenes like Akechi suspecting her as the Palace Ruler because of her association with said Palace being about one who craves attention and just let it slip by her?) the foreshadowing monologue could just be something to add for her backstory if a player didn’t think about it much. Nothing really showed that anything was wrong in her happy go lucky world aside from the few interactions she has with Maruki. Which still hardly makes a difference. Their connection feels loose. Though it didn’t matter if her reveal would’ve happened or not, Sumire just goes back to being the SAME person as when she first started in the true ending. What were all those 120 hours of progress for..?!

Morgana wanting to recruit her then changing his mind because of Shido makes me deadpan. The thieves faced a perverted and abusive P.E. teacher, a manipulative and gaslighting artist, the freaking mafia, and a selfish and money-hungry CEO father! Everyone had their own lives on the line each! What makes Yoshizawa’s any different..?! I just don’t get it. Didn’t that cat say that powers in numbers is a good thing after recruiting Ann? That whole conversation after Maruki’s Palace was pointless, because it meant nothing for the main story after she decides to want to join and is turned down.

Her reason for awakening is weak and contradictory. Because, when voices of people who talk poorly of her, her motivation for awakening is that they spoke down on the dream she shares with her sister. That is not a strong and a good enough reason to even summon a Persona. This goes completely against P5’s themes and it doesn’t work. KaSumi/re never even cared about their opinions anyways, she even vocalizes this as a statement and brushes off them off all the time. And her potentially losing her honour student status was her own fault. Even with her second awakening being more meaningful, it still doesn’t justify having a “Spirit of Rebellion”. She could’ve done that without having her “true awakening” and it still would’ve worked. It didn’t make sense for her to even have a Persona when she became a scatterbrain for almost a year. It doesn’t add up, she committed to being Kasumi, that’s against who she actually is. P3 is facing mortality, P4 is facing the truth, P5 is facing against an unjust society, impacting them personally that it becomes a motivation for courage. Everyone in SEES, Investigation team, and the main Phantom thief crew follow these guidelines, I don’t understand why the scenario had to be changed.

Her thief outfit is nothing but a market seller for Royal. Atlus even admits it in their interviews. The only symbolism it has is that she admires Joker so much and sees him as a spitting image of rebellion that she replicates her attire to his, including keeping her Kasumi ponytail. Even Atlus admits this in their interviews that her outfit was just a market seller! The only thing original about it is the leotard because she’s a gymnast. And when she finally awakens as Sumire (though not really), her outfit stays the same, hair the same, Persona the same. There is no visible representation of Sumire showcasing individuality that separates her from Kasumi/re. Not even a small one. Which is a clue to how she goes back to looking the same as when she was in the beginning. Character development what now? Violet is the same way, Kasumi with just a mask on.

She got to have a magical girl/sailor moon transformation for what? Fan service. Which doesn’t fit with the game’s themes and aesthetics whatsoever but her Persona is Cinderella so sure, why the heck not? (sarcasm) Heck, if that were the case then the thieves should’ve gotten the same treatment. The idea of watching Ryuji do a spin is too amusing for me. Yusuke could pull it off given his theatrical eccentric side.

Black just doesn’t seem like Yoshizawa’s colour palette. There’s no reason for wearing black when the only time she does wear it is her Shujin blazer and that’s it.Gymnasts don’t really wear plain black either; it’s usually with a flashy design that comes with dark and light colours, or one with a simpler look. Her leotard being plain black is too… simple? Purple works since she actually wore that for her gymnastics. Everyone somehow loves the inaccuracy of her in a sleeveless leotard that showcase an exaggerated body that isn’t her at all, they seem to like using her just for their perverse entertainment, (then again pretty much every female fictional character is like that so this isn’t anything new or a big deal anymore, I don’t know, I can’t be bothered to give a crap knowing that the media does whatever it wants), when gymnasts always wear sleeves. And the internet loves to debauch her for the most dull and impractical suit in Persona, a great advertisement to promote the game. This is just a notice I have over her costume.

Her showtime is weird. (Plus, why can’t Joker have a showtime that gives him the spotlight?) So she jumps into his arms for a spin as he shoots down enemies, tosses her to make this strange performance with her deceased sister (does that mean she’s actually touching air and Kasumi is all in her head?), and pulls Joker to twirl her into a dip. Just how deprived of his attention are you? Did Nintendo really have to give us the unnecessarily pointless scene of Yoshizawa’s dancing and her showtime as part of P5’s trailer of branching out to other consoles? Akechi’s showtime clip hardly balances that out considering it was short and at the end.

What was the whole point of that ridiculous dance cutscene of her and Joker? A shoehorn by Atlus as ship bait between the true star of the game and an in-and-out character. Why weren’t any of the Shujin students of the thieves there? Or Mishima? We just get a fancy flashy dance animated cutscene purely showing off Sumire. Maybe I missed the reason.

Sumire’s backstory is just a recycle from the other girls’ story arcs. Especially Lavenza, who goes on to have an identity crisis herself where she is split into TWINS. I find that no body that I’ve seen has mentioned this. As a standpoint, we didn’t need another twin story AGAIN.

Her connection to Cendrillon is off and strange. Which is ironic since she’s actually the jealous sister. All the stories of Cinderella have many things in common: she’s a waif, she is looked down on by her household, verbally abused, put into forced labour, shown to be a genuine person, and is saved by a man who solves all her problems. All these bad things in Cinderella’s life happens TO her out of jealousy, spite, and cruelty. Sumire goes through none of that. She has a sister who does care about her, and parents that care about her, too. There is no ill mistreatment anywhere done TO her from when she was Sumire before Shujin. But I guess it’s a minor thing where she’s like Cinderella’s stepsisters. The thing she said about Kasumi making the decisions for her, like her clothes, is because Sumire lets her. She could’ve said anything at anytime and Kasumi would’ve listened. Sure, she is implied to be overbearing who couldn’t read between the lines. But they’re siblings! Twins for crying out loud! They would’ve spent everything together knowing each other’s quirks, habits, and flaws. Yet Sumire puts the image that Kasumi is perfect in every way (Mary Sue) when she’s spent years learning all about her twin. Sumire’s a Mary Sue for the fact that everything she does or doesn’t do is positively received no matter the situation. There’s no consequence or anything. There’s also the fact that there doesn’t seem to be any ground reason as to why Sumire has an inferiority complex over her sister other than that Kasumi is considered the better gymnast. They trained the same but Kasumi came out on top. Perhaps that could be the reason for her lack of confidence as Sumire. Depression can happen to anyone, of course, but her large amount of jealousy of Kasumi feels kinda off in the writing aspect. It’s ALL over her sister more so than herself. And since we only get to see Real Kasumi once, ONCE, we don’t know the dynamics of their relationship. She and Cendrillon share a few things: they go to a ball pretending to be someone else, a chance to have their lives be what they want, and is saved by a man who solves all their problems. Joker saves her by revealing the truth of her identity, and her coming back as Sumire after almost a year of being brainwashed. Though the same can be applied to Maruki as she sort of consented to the identity crisis, and tried to stop Joker from undoing so. That part’s understandable, don’t get me wrong. But what, after a short timespan when the thieves rescue her she figures herself out and then suddenly accepts Kasumi’s death with a big ole speech? Sure, she talks about it with Joker, and while it’s nice to have someone to talk to about these things, that doesn’t magically solve all of a person’s problems in one fell swoop. Sumire should’ve gone back to therapy with an actual therapist, and talked honestly to her parents about her mental problems and sort and heal from the burdens she’s carried. She doesn’t struggle much from being in her own skin again. Joker isn’t the center of her existence! She feels like an imaginary friend from all the times she’s around Joker and no one else. To me, her interactions with the thieves happens more in the Metaverse. Having Cendrillon as her Persona just feels off in some ways, considering that her Persona doesn’t change after reclaiming herself as Sumire.

I’m sorry (not really), but saying Joker is her ‘Prince Charming’ does not really fit. It demeans Joker’s story and his character. He’s a rebel, he’s forced to live in a rough situation out of his control, he’s had to play the role of not standing out, be invisible and blend in, control his own behaviour and actions in public. But we all know Joker does not have a ‘princely’ personality. More so the opposite. He hides his real feelings under a facade in most cases. He’s pictured as her ‘Prince’ because he’s pretty much the only person who interacts with her, who’s there, who basically solved all her problems for her. Which is why she ‘falls in love’ with him. The thing I’ve never liked in the Third Semester is how little everyone cared for Joker when they lived the illusions of perfect lives. It was only because they went through sufferings and hardships that they depended on him so much, but it changes in reverse after everything he did for them. Which is just so damn shallow! What does that say about who they really are? Joker deserved more that! He’s not a crutch! Sumire is no different either. She’s the same circle we’ve always known. Joker is literally depicted as a sort of ‘antihero’, given the whole Phantom Thief role, Arsene, the strive for rebelling, unburdened, helping. But he isn’t prim proper, or a complete empty shell who is flat/static who is Mr. Perfect that saves the day. There’s layers to it all, and it’s a journey getting to where he is. That in spite of his difficult circumstance, he thrives. With friends, supporting himself financially, helping others not just because it’s right but because he knows better than anyone what it means to be helpless. He’s sarcastic, cheeky, quiet, doesn’t always like to follow the rules (like when Sojiro tells him to keep his head down, turn a blind eye, not cause trouble) and it would actually make sense that he isn’t a big fan of hierarchies and the system of society (the cons and darker aspects), especially when abuse, power play, gaslighting, etc are involved. Definitely not the type who does duty and follows the structure he’s surrounded by.

When the game FINALLY reveals what her deal is, I’ve already clocked out, exited, lost interest in her reused backstory that the element of surprise failed. To have to go through the main plot (the important part) of the entire game, we had to reach the end with Third Semester to get her reason for being meaningful, to the end, just leaves everything dry. We could’ve gotten to know more about how Maruki’s powers work and what other patients he might have affected. Because is it really believable that he only inflicted Yoshizawa throughout the time he had gotten his Persona? Wouldn’t he get more Shujin patients outside the main crew? Maybe not Shujin?

Isn’t it part of her wish that she wanted to become Kasumi so much that she found an opportunity to do so deep down? To fill her sister’s dream for her feels kinda off and complicated regarding her cognition is only that of how she sees herself versus how others see her. All this seems to reveal just how obsessed Sumire is about Kasumi. And her relationship with her sister doesn’t show except for the one clip where real Kasumi appears. We can only go off of what Sumire says. For example: Valentine’s Day, White Day, real ending, she goes back to her default Kasumi self. I’ve never seen a character have such a slow burn-to-rushed progress to then digress it all.

Like, isn’t it the fact that she became Kasumi and made herself be the one that died just a cycle of what happened but reverse?? If Sumire is the supposed dead one then that means as Kasumi she didn’t blame herself because she’s happy as her sister and the grief she showed throughout the most part of her social link was fake. She got what she wanted so she didn’t feel guilty or saddened about the death? What the hell? She just puts herself back where she started, how did that dodge anything?! And it’s not even because of Maruki! She’s doing this with full awareness and freely choosing to do so. Absolute ridiculousness.

She’s in loves with Joker no matter what you do. It’s like she doesn’t know what platonic relationships are. It’s like spending time with a guy has to mean romance. Then again, any person but Joker doesn’t exist to her. And who did you love him as exactly, Sumire? Kasumi or you? Because Joker has only ever known Kasumi. To him he’s only just met you. It makes me appreciate Aigis, Rise, and Marie more because they were nothing compared to the level of shoehorning Yoshizawa brings. She’s basically passing her obsession with Kasumi to Joker instead. Though this time with a sort of idealistic infatuation and expectations, but much less extreme to how she is with her twin. For crying out loud Sumire barely hits the peak of actual maturity. She just turned fifteen a month before the actual game starts, a first year who is still growing out of her kid phase. Top that with her fragile mental struggles that she has hardly had time to heal from, her goals which are the only thing she cares about, how was it appropriate to date her? So what if Joker is at least a year older, she doesn’t have full understanding in what it means to be in a romantic relationship with someone, serious and committed with her mentality; much less ready for it. At least Marie interacts with everyone and has that become a factor in her growth.

KaSumi/re seems to have the habit of being an overbearing airhead. Everything flies passed her unless it’s about herself. Makes sense for the 10% amount of times she shows up in the game. Because she’s busy with competitions? So is everyone else, but they make the goddamn time to actually BE important and involved, we can only take her word off it and she’d just be gone for a period of time.

Whether it’s Kasumi or Sumire, they’re stalkers regardless. Her following the thieves into Sae’s Palace because she “felt something big was going to happen” is such a poor excuse. What, does everything Joker does have to apply to you? Just how long did you wait in the Palace? Because you were worried about him and followed even though he’s always respected your boundaries and doesn’t step out of line on your privacy? Did you have anything to eat? Creep. Her stalking the team in the nurse’s office out of no where was weird. How long have you been tailing them, huh? How did you conveniently find out about their meeting? Lavenza’s butterfly form was only a sight Joker picked up on while she was invisible to everyone else. Morgana can’t count because he was created by Igor, so of course he could see her. And Lavenza stays in the nurse’s office while Joker gathers everyone to meet. It’s like the same situation for the other Velvet Room Attendants, they can have this sort of invisibility projected in the outside world where bystanders can’t see them except their guests or be visible and interact with people. Especially the locations of the Velvet Room, where only the guests can see the entrance and the attendant. The thieves or any of the teams can’t see the glowing blue door or them either in the other world like Tartarus and the Metaverse. They only think that the leaders are zoning out in reality. So the idea that she knew to follow Joker because she saw Lavenza is confusing.

Why does her being skinny while eating a lot matter so much to everyone that it has to be brought up all the time? She’s an athlete, we get it. It’s part of her ���honour student status’. Ryuji is no different! He’s an athlete for track for track and field! This trope is used so much for every time she eats something. Past Persona games didn’t do this and be so absorbed in a side character’s trait.

All Kasumi cares about in this big wide world is gymnastics and nothing else. Sumire’s goal is not too different either. Yet her growth for betterment feels too short for someone who had an identity crisis for almost a year. Was she completely conscious for her cognition? Was acting as Kasumi a recollection as she adjusted back to being herself? Did she forget who she was deep down until the reveal? Did loss hit differently over what she feels between herself and Kasumi? It makes me curious over the fuctions of Maruki’s powers, not enough answers.

KaSumi/re has hardly any stakes as a phantom thief. She doesn’t even have a reason to join their cause! She just joins as a kind gesture and because of Maruki. She didn’t even agree with them that time she met up with Joker and Akechi. It makes sense that she’d be there for Maruki but is a temporary member until they defeat him.

How she got the MetaNav makes no goddamn sense. Because Yaldaboath is the one who gave Joker and Akechi access, and others (such as the Thieves) being in close proximity to either of them would cause them to get the app as well. But KaSumi/re can break that rule? It goes against the very functions the game has made. Like seriously?

Vanadis may be more original and suited to her compared to Cendrillon from what I’ve heard, but it’s amazing how even deep down as Sumire, she still copies from Joker instead of actually being individualistic. Especially for an Ultimate Persona. Like, seriously, black and red colour palette? Bird wings hanging from the lower back? Sounds way too familiar to another Persona we know well. Vanadis is supposed to be a goddess, why the hell does she look like a demon? It says a lot about her either as Kasumi or Sumire. You try so hard, Atlus. You really do. It honestly surprised me to see these shoehorns.

When she said that only the person has to be the one to change their situation, she is literally undermining what happened with the cases of Kamoshida, Madarame, Kaneshiro, Shiro. Their victims were people who couldn’t stand up to them because they were powerless with hardly much choice. Joker, Shiho, Mishima, Ann, Yusuke, etc. There’s nothing wrong with help and inspiration. Sumire gets that herself technically, and that’s fine, but that just makes her a hypocrite. But I guess I’m taking her words as being that change has to be done alone so that might be on me.

Joker, Violet, and Crow are a bizarre team. Her and Crow don’t even have anything in common for their dynamic. Of course Joker and Akechi would know what’s going on, but for Kasumi it just feels different for me. She’s just there for curiosity. Everyone has been affected by Maruki, and she has the longest, so it doesn’t feel right for her to be there.

Thank gods she isn’t in Strikers, all she’d be was an out of place extra. She’s not even mentioned in Strikers, her only appearance in the Persona universe is literally just Royal. Unlike Marie who has made multiple appearances. And as I’ve phrased before, she has no motive to even be one of them. Royal’s true ending proves that when she isn’t in the van with the thieves. Her only concern was Maruki. Her life is back in order and she’s thriving for herself. And that’s fine, I don’t really have a problem with that. It just makes me wonder how much of an afterthought Atlus made her after Royal was finished. Whether or not she’d be in the game wouldn’t have made a difference for the whole plot but her own story. Atlus just seems to fail in fulfilling that entirely.

Out of all the three new additions I felt like Jose had the least amount of time and attention. And for me, personally, I would’ve liked to see more of him and his story, you know? Because he’s so mysterious and gives off similar vibes to the Velvet Room Attendants but we don’t get to know more about his origins. In Royal he’s just there to provide. It’s only a theory that he’s associated with Philemon like the attendants are with Igor but there’s not a whole lot of evidence to link that connection; since Philemon hasn’t made a real appearance in years. It’s a shame we don’t get more Persona 1 and 2 or a new remake or something. But with the age gap in the Persona timeline it’s understandable.

Part of me was disappointed that Persona 5 vanilla wasn’t coming to Switch so that I could avoid the pain of dealing with Yoshizawa for certain moments. But not entirely. At least there’s 3 and 4 to look forward to.

But hey, if you can make reasonable opinions over this then I’ll respect that, and maybe my thoughts of her will be persuaded. Unless you want to be an asshole about free will of opinions and open mindedness then please leave this post now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It’s not like this post is a matter of life or death that demands bitchy responses. I draw the line on hate over just having an honest opinion different from others. Especially with any fans of any fanbase, that take things unnecessarily too far. Your love for this character doesn’t give you the right to attack me when I’m only pointing out what I’ve noticed about her and how my personal perspective is affected by those points. And as I’ve stated, I am open to seeing her in a different light, given reasonable and understandable viewpoints without the hostility.

I may continue making these points further. I just had to get this off my chest, even if her fans blast me for my personal opinions that have obvious pointers. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to see it without replying with hateful words and rude comments towards me and my post.

[mooncademia]

Caught in Love

PAIRING ~ Aizawa x reader

GENRE ~ fluff

SUMMARY ~ After getting a job offer at U.A, your love life w/ Aizawa has officially transferred to school. And you loved it.

But wait...something is different about Class 1-A homeroom teacher! And it has definitely caught a few suspicious eyes.. who may or may not have an idea up their sleeves to satisfy their burning curiosity. 

First day working at U.A, you realized that you didn’t have to wake up at your usual morning alarm at 5:30 a.m.

Ah yes, the pro hero days of waking up super early, going to the agency, giving Aizawa (who continued to sleep beside you) a peck on his cheek before you left were now over.

And instead, you were introduced to a new routine.

A fresh one.

However, things weren’t going to change that fast, after all, you’ve been pro-hero for years! And your sleep cycle has stuck to your 5:30 a.m alarm and Aizawa, your husband, did not appreciate that.

“We are going to work, together!” You squealed as you flung open the blankets that covered you and Aizawa. You hopped out of bed and shook his shoulder, making Aizawa mumble a groan.

You kissed his cheek passionately and ruffled his messy raven-black hair a little bit.

“Come on,” you said. “Wake up, I’m going to make some coffee.”

Aizawa turned to the side to peek at the clock on the bed side table. He let out another groan when he saw the three digits.

“Y/N, it’s literally 5:34 a.m. You just need to be at U.A at 8 and we don’t live that far.”

“Yeah, well,” you said with an exciting smile. “You can never be too prepared!”

You scurried out of the room and turned on your coffee machine in the kitchen.  Aizawa turned around and saw his bedroom now empty. His wrinkled long black sleeve was bunched up to his waist and he frowned as he got up this early for the first time in months. You knew your husband was a rationally-driven man, sometimes a lone cat who prefers privacy and waking up a lot later. But what you didn’t know was that when Principal Nezu asked him if his wife could teach at U.A after All Might retired, he was thrilled.

So despite it being before 6 a.m, his excitement was bubbling over that it made him finally leave the bed.

But of course, he had to play it cool. With rational excuses, right?!

“Well, I guess I do have to review the school schedule with you,” he mumbled as he palmed the back of his neck and walked out of the bedroom.

When you saw your husband slumping down on the dining chair with his half-lidded eyes, your heart immediately flipped and you poured a nice cup of hot coffee for him.  

You knew him well enough that he didn’t wake up this early in the morning for no reason. You set the cup on the table and leaned down to give him a peck on the corner of his lips as a gesture of gratitude.

But at the very last second of pulling away, Aizawa got the best of you and wrapped your waist with his strong arms, causing you to sit down on his lap—santa lap style.

He hugged you warmly and you slung your arms around his neck. Aizawa snuggled his head between your neck and shoulder and sighed blissfully with his eyes closed. You laughed with your head tilted slightly back.

Yeah, he definitely was not a morning person.

After much time of Aizawa discussing you about the school system for the millionth time during breakfast and almost having a mental breakdown of whether or not you could actually teach (we all have those moments, right?), you were on your way to U.A.

And it really took your breath away.

The school was located on the top hill in Musutafu with the whole neighborhood revolving around it. Glass windows seemed to reach the sky and when you realized how freakin’ big the campus actually was, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the building, not even a second.

But that wasn’t the best thing of all.

Because the best thing was having to walk to work with your favorite (and sometimes most annoying, but you love him nonetheless) person beside you. It was like having your best friend as a partner for your science project in high school. Ease poured over you as you found it quite pleasant to have a strong arm to lean delightedly upon, a familiar face that peers down at you with a gentle smile, and a reassuring voice to tell you that things will be okay.

It was still an hour before class but you and Aizawa were—of course—there early.

The two of you were walking down the halls. Sooner or later you’ll have to let go of your arm that was crossed with Aizawa’s before entering the teacher’s office because one thing that you both agreed upon was to keep the relationship low-key. No one knew that Aizawa’s wife was going to be the new teacher at U.A except for some of the faculty and of course…Hizashi Yamada, aka: the loudest person in the world in Shouta’s opinion.

“Y/N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Present Mic shouted when he saw you step into the teacher’s office. His blonde hair that was religiously shifted upward was too iconic to not be noticed from far away. You giggled at the sight as he threw his arm around his best friend, Aizawa, poking him teasingly on the shoulder. You were great friends with Hizashi and in fact, he was the one who introduced you to Aizawa in the first place.

“Oi, Eraserhead, you’re so lucky your wife goes to work with you,” Hizashi teasingly snickered with his arm still slung around Shouta’s neck. Aizawa tried to shrug him off but it only made him tighten his grip. “So they managed to get Y/N to teach here but they haven’t even implemented my great idea?!”

“Please no, Mic.” Aizawa groaned, trying again to pull away from Hizashi’s grip.

You sat down your bag. “What’s your  ‘idea?’ ”

Hizashi let go of Aizawa’s neck and casually slung his arm around yours, making you giggle in surprise.

“Well of course it’s my HERO FM radio! Every Friday from 1:00-5:00 p.m!” He announced proudly (or more like promoting) making you laugh even more as Aizawa facepalmed himself. “I told the staff that they should let me add one more day, you know, because of my great increasing popularity! But they said one day a week is already “enough,” he said letting go of you to make air quotes with a disgusted expression on his face.

“Get to work Mic,” Aizawa called as he headed towards his desk to gather up some assignments for his morning class.

Hizashi winked at you before he trotted off, throwing you a thumbs-up sign. “Get ready for some ‘strict Aizawa-sensei.’ One day during U.A fest, I wanted to hear Class 1-A perform but Aizawa kept on saying that I should be on patrol duty—“

“Which you should’ve. It was your shift.” Aizawa interrupted bluntly.

“But I just wanted an INSEY WINCEY listen!!” Hizashi stomped on his feet childishly which made Aizawa roll his eyes and let out a sigh.

You went to your husband and stood on your tippy-toes to land a small peck on his cheek. Aizawa blushed at your move because of the fact that you two were in a semi-public place, but he didn’t complain at all.

“Oh, don’t worry.” You seductively caressed his shoulder and gave him a charming smile as you leaned in deadly closer to his face with your hips arched a bit. “I can’t wait to see… what Aizawa-sensei is like.”

Your tone was silky smooth and you rolled out the last word so slowly that it made Aizawa’s mouth part open just a bit. He stared at you dumbfoundedly. Your eyes flickered down to his lips and he swallowed a gulp. He felt like Cupid just shot his heart and he was totally falling for you once again because the fact that you called him ‘sensei’ totally did not make his stomach or heart heat up.

Yeah…he really was goddamn lucky to have you work at U.A alongside him.

———

“Overall, ‘Plus Ultra’ doesn’t always necessarily means you need to exceed your limits physically. But it also means mentally. It’s how your brain exercises to solve complex situations. What are your strategies like? Are you saving those who need saving in quick time while doing minimal damage to your surroundings? I hope next week’s practice can allow you to exercise these brain muscles of yours that I reviewed today because listening to your thoughts and being mentally stable/prepared is more important than how powerful your quirk is. Listen to that hero gut instinct of yours, because at the end, especially in dearest times… it’s going to help you immensely.” You finished with an encouraging smile that made the class almost want to clap at your amazing class. You were glad to see their engaging faces and raising their hands when they had a question.

Class 1-A was truly remarkable. Though, the only student that left you curiously wondering about was the small boy with purple balls on his head because he seemed to be staring at you so intensely that you swore his eyes were bugging out of their sockets.

Aizawa bowed at you when you finished and you gave him a smirk.

The class began to exchange small chats as you bowed back to Aizawa.

“Wow, I think this teacher is really good! She’s so pretty and smart!” Ashido excitedly whispered to Tsuyu behind her with her eyes widened.

“That’s pro-hero for you,” Kaminari added with his index finger and thumb pointed high up. “Plus, she even made Aizawa-sensei stand there awake the whole entire time listening.”

Some of the classmates nodded eagerly in return, truly astounded that their homeroom teacher did not retreat to his traditional yellow sleeping bag that he usually does.  

“Thank you L/N-sensei,” Aizawa said, popping the class back to the board ahead. You bowed at him in return, but before you headed out, you saw Aizawa gave you the tiniest nod and wait…was that a smile creeping on his lips?!

You exhaled silently in relief. You have been so nervous and worried about teaching at U.A. When Principal Nezu offered you the position, you were shocked to even know that he had you on his mind. You previously thought that Aizawa proposed the option but that guess was quickly diminished when he told you that he had nothing to do with it.

You were just a pro-hero doing your job and when the amazing opportunity arose, you immediately accepted it, knowing that you deeply wanted to help students find their way to hero-life.

And Aizawa knew you had been nervous about U.A since accepting the offer. You have stayed up countless nights just reviewing paperwork, going over the school schedule many times, and even looking through practice exams from the past, thinking about what further lessons you can teach to these students.

You folded your lips and returned a small nod, eyes twinkling as you slid the door to head out.

The class truly captured the small moment you and Aizawa had, but then all shrugged away when they heard their homeroom teacher begin handing out today’s assignments.

As you trotted away from the class back to the main office, you smiled at yourself as you hugged your folders tighter to your chest.

Hm… I could definitely get used to this.

———

Days seemed to go by faster than you had expected.

Wake up (sometimes not that early anymore thanks to Aizawa hugging you down even after your 5:30 alarm rings), enjoy breakfast, head to U.A, teach, and then go back home with Aizawa (when everyone else is —of course— away).

You’ve had your ups and downs at U.A. Some days, work seemed to flow by very smoothly while other days, work was more than just grading papers or checking assignments. There were a few days where work overloaded and you and Aizawa will be staying up past midnight checking over paperwork. But it was times like these where you truly felt utmost grateful to have a mentor there to help you. And it was even better that your mentor was your favorite person in the world.

It has been ten days since your first day at U.A.

Which means: ten days Aizawa not sleeping a wink during your long lectures about hero work that he already confidently knows. And to some of the classmates who knew their homeroom teacher well enough that his yellow sleeping bag was his best friend, it was a bit…odd.

“Don’t you think it's weird that Aizawa-sensei stays awake only during L/N-sensei’s lectures?” Uraraka asked Kaminari on their way to the Lunch Rush.  

“What do you mean?” Kaminari shrugged and chuckled. “It should be weird that a teacher sleeps during class in the first place, right?” He grabbed his food tray excitingly, his eyes focused closely on it, clearly not noticing Uraraka’s suspicious tone nor mischievous eyes.

Tsuyu popped in between with the two and let out a sigh. “Boys……You have to read in between the lines. Uraraka’s right.” She snapped her finger perkily.  “Aizawa-sensei is not just awake but he’s seemed very engaged to L/N-sensei.”

Kaminari stared at Tsuyu and Uraraka obliviously as he sat down with the rest of the classmates. “Huh?”

Uraraka rolled her eyes. “You know! From the way he nods his head when she talks or oh! That smile?! I have never seen his lips tilt upwards besides haunting us on how difficult practice exams are going to be.” She tiredly sighed, thinking about her teacher’s wicked smirk every time a huge exam was coming. It was like he found pleasure in challenging the students to surpass their limits.

But Tsuyu and Uraraka knew that Aizawa’s expression when you were in the room wasn’t that wicked grin that he had when announcing an upcoming exam or event. Instead, it was a mixture of awe and sincerity. And it definitely made the two girls exchange some giggles and fun guesses.

“What’s up?” Jirou said, sitting down beside Tsuyu with her cafeteria tray, noticing her friends laughing loudly.

Uraraka leaned forward on the table to peer over at Jirou. “It's about Aizawa-sensei and the new teacher!”  Her voice was loud enough that it caught the other classmates’ ears, making her furiously blush afterward from her spontaneous excitement.

But of course, of all the pairs of ears in Class 1-A, there was always the one come rushing in when it’s about his favorite subject: women.

“L/N-SENSEI?!” Mineta’s ears visibly perked up from Uraraka’s gush, clearly engrossed with the topic of the new teacher. “She’s SO gorgeous and oh lord, her—“

“Quit it, Mineta.” Kirishima slapped the back of Mineta’s head beside him before he could finish his lewd statement. He hooked his arm around Kaminari with a giant smirk plastered on his face.

“Why don’t we find out, huh?” Kirishima proposed as Kaminari tried to wiggle his way free from his grasp.

“Hey man, watch your grip!”

Uraraka waved her hand to dismiss Kaminari's racket and stared back up at Kirishima. “About what?” She asked curiously, taking another bite of her rice.

“Girls…” Kaminari mocked sarcastically with a sigh, mirroring Tsuyu’s earlier comment that she made on him. The two girls rolled their eyes and punched his shoulder.

Kirishima leaned into the group closer with slyness flickering in his eyes. He grinned and bopped his head at Jirou. “We can find out if there’s anything special between Aizawa-sensei and L/N-sensei…using Jirou’s quirk!”

Jirou scoffed and leaned back with her arms crossed before Kirishima could continue. “Uh, you’re using me to get info about our homeroom teacher’s private life? That doesn’t sound very friend-like to me if I say so myself.”

“Come on Jirou,” Kaminari whined. “It’ll be fun!”

Jirou raised her brows and sneered. “Since when did you get interested in this?”

Tsuyu shook her head and waved her hands, dismissing the rising chaos. “No, you’re right,” She said, trying not to show her disappointing face. “It’s not fair to just use Jirou to grab juicy news about our teachers, you know…even if it can be so great to the point that it makes us cheerful and excited despite upcoming exams.”

Uraraka bobbled her head up and down, religiously agreeing to everything Tsuyu had to say with a pout on her lips and closed eyes. “Or it can even help us lift our spirits.”

Tsuyu nodded. “Even if it is just a tiny bit, it can-“

“Alright, guys! I get it! Fine!” Jirou said over Tsuyu, earning grins from the boys and giggles from the girls. Jirou sighed and pinched her nose bridge. She looked up at her friends and darted a death glare at Kirishima and Kaminari. “I’m only doing this for the girls.”

It was half-true. Jirou didn’t want to agree to this for the boys. But another reason was because of school lately.  With heavy workload that the whole class was dealing with, plus the hero-work after school and training, school has been…well, quite draining. And similar to the time where the whole class decided to hold a competition for “best dorm room” last year to raise everyone’s spirits from the whole villain chaos, she thought maybe this can raise spirits up again too. Even if it’s just miscellaneous curiosity or excitement. She knew and sensed that her friends needed something exciting happening, besides school work.

So the plan that Kirishima introduced was to head over to the teacher’s lounge at this moment during lunch break. Since it was merely the beginning of lunch and there was still a good 45 minutes left, it was the perfect time for teachers to be on their desks with students the last thing on their minds. Jirou can place her earphone jacks in the wall to hear the voices inside to retrieve any news from the two teachers.

“And if we got nothing, that’s totally okay as well.” Kirishima shrugged. “We can always try next time!”

“NEXT TIME?!” Jirou exclaimed uneasily, twirling her earphone jacks. “Let’s just see what happens now, and focus on next time later.”

“All right then!” Uraraka clapped her hands excitingly and bumped her shoulder against Tsuyu’s with a beam. “Mission: FIONA starts now!“

“Fiona?” Kaminari raised his brow, getting out of his seat with the rest of his friends.

Uraraka pointed her finger up in the air pridefully. “Find-Info-ON-Aizawa. I couldn’t think of an acronym for ‘ON’ so just leave it together and you’ll get—wooah!”

Jirou and Tsuyu locked elbows with her and dragged her away before she could finished,  followed by Kirishima and Kaminari trotting behind their footsteps.

“If you keep explaining it’s going to be Mission: GIT!” Jirou sneered, giving Uraraka’s elbows a good tug.

“GIT?”

Tsuyu smirked as the five of them head towards the teacher’s office. “GETTING INTO TROUBLE!”

———

Lunch breaks were times where you and Aizawa could finally heave a sigh of relief and chat with each other freely. You were happy to work at U.A with Aizawa because now since work schedules were parallel, you could efficiently have the time to hang out with him. When you were pro-hero at your original agency, you’ll often come back home with no trace of Aizawa since he was still in school working on students’ assignments till late evening.

But now, you had all the time in the world to chat with him. Okay maybe not all the time, just an hour and a half, but it was definitely enough for you.

Aizawa was sitting next to you on your desk, nodding along to your talks about your recent lectures with other classes as he gave some advice on teaching.

You let out a wistful sigh and rested your head on Aizawa’s shoulder. You closed your eyes and let out a hum. “Thanks for helping me through all this. I can’t believe teacher work is this much.”

Aizawa let out a puff of air and smirked. He peered down at you from the corner of his eye. “So are you gonna apologize for all the times you were scolding me for not coming back home early?”

You shot your head back up with your eyes widened and a jaw exasperated dropped. You knew that Aizawa was joking from on his tone but you pressed your hand on your chest and squinted your eyes at him, giving him a death glare. “Excuse me? Uhm, sir, I don’t think that’s fair. And besides! All the hours you were gone, I really really missed you and-“

Aizawa leaned forward, a hand snaking to the back of your neck, taking you by surprise as he crashed his lips against yours. You were completely shell-shocked that your eyes stayed open the entire time. Sure, you have kissed Aizawa a thousand times before, but he rarely made the first move. And oh did your heart fluttered!

Aizawa pulled away with a smile dancing on his lips. “And I really missed you too.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, you heard a loud gasp from outside, making you unconsciously turn your head towards the sound.

A muffled voice transmitted through the walls. “KEEP IT DOWN, KAMINARI!”  

A female’s voice? Or was it a boy?

More muffling voices continued and you couldn’t really understand it, but one thing you knew for sure was that there was someone outside.

You twirled your head back to Aizawa. His face hardened and got up from the chair, walking towards the door.

“SH- ! HE- COMING!” A familiar voice echoed through the walls that you could only capture words of.

Aizawa finally opened the door and looked to his right.

Caught red-handed.

All five students were crunched down to the ground. With Jirou’s earplugs on the wall with Uraraka and Tsuyu beside her, plus Kaminar and Kirishima hovering right above her not missing any detail she was saying, Aizawa knew exactly what was up.

“Shouta? What’s wrong?” You asked, making your way to the door when you saw his cold expression.

You sucked in a breath when you saw the scene to your right.  

“RUN!” Jirou shouted but it was too late. Aizawa immediately caught the five of them with his trusty gray scarf so fast that you swore you didn’t even notice it. His scarf rolled all five up into a bundle individually so that their arms were glued to their sides.

All of the students heated up from shame.

“Soooooo……..” Kaminari mumbled weakly, trying to make the matter less intensive. “Are you two dating..or..something?” His voice squeaked higher and higher as Aizawa’s brows got deeper and deeper.

You knew you had every right to be mad that these students who were invading you and Aizawa’s privacy, and you should! But to your surprised, your offended emotions were quickly replaced with a comical one as you saw all the students’ ducking their heads in shame, darting their eyes away from Aizawa’s hardened glare.

Ah well…they would’ve found out sooner or later.

You let out a chuckle. Aizawa turned his head at you with his eyes widened, not knowing that you would be taking this matter so lightly. But you returned him with a kind of smile that immediately released the tension of his grip and the eyebrows on his face.

The students perked their heads up in confusion from your reaction, and you flashed them a smile as you snaked your hand behind Aizawa’s back.

“Dating? Hmmm…,” you said, a lopsided smirk dancing across your lips.

“I think it’s a little bit more than that.”

And with those words, Uraraka and Tsuyu couldn’t help but squeal in delight despite still being bonded.  Kaminari swore he never felt this wholesome since getting accepted into U.A, and Kirishima—on the other hand—twirled his head away from you and mumbled with his eyebrows furrowed in great passion: “…He’s so manly!”

And Aizawa? Well, he definitely looked at you in surprise for being so open, but no less than a second, he felt a warm breeze rushing through his body.

Your laugh after seeing the students’ reaction was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard.  

It always has been.

And hearing that made him feel like hey…

Perhaps people knowing wouldn’t hurt! And maybe it’s because he just loved you that much, or maybe it’s that fact that he realized, that no matter if his class or the freakin’ public knows or not….

Nothing…absolutely nothing, is going to disrupt the beautiful relationship the two of you have.

[kaider-is-my-otp]

Best Surprise

Torin surprises Kai for his birthday.

Emperor Kaito never celebrated his birthday.

At least he hadn’t for the past two years since he became an emperor. Even before that, his birthday celebrations were surprisingly modest for a crown prince of world’s largest country. The sad truth was he grew up as a sheltered prince and never had too many friends he could spend that special day with. Usually his mother and father would take a day off and abandon their royal duties to be with him for that full day. They would sneak out of the palace to walk the city streets and eat food from the vendors, completely different from all the delicacies waiting in the palace. With both of them now gone, Kai remembered those birthdays with aching fondness.

Despite not making a big deal out of it, nobody ever forgot it was their emperor’s birthday. Palace cooks would make all of his favorite dishes, gifts from important politicians were arriving from all parts of the world, reporters were writing articles about him, usually comparing how much he’s changed during the years.

Still, Kai never cared about any of that. He would usually spend entire day busy with paperwork, meetings and revising the laws. If he was lucky enough to have his birthday fall on Sunday- his only free day of the week- he would spend it sleeping and lounging in his private quarters.

This year was different, though. There was one person in the palace who had no intention allowing emperor to waste his day doing work. Even though he usually said that work comes first, Torin refused to have him sitting at his desk all day and brood about not having seen Cinder in months.

With that in mind he knocked on Kai’s cherry wood door and walked into the office. As he expected, Kai was hunched over his desk, staring at his portscreen. He didn’t even lift his head to see who entered his office.

Torin cleared his throat. “Your Majesty.”

Kai lifted his head, surprised to see his advisor standing on the doorway. “Torin, when did you come in? I don’t think I heard you.”

Torin exhaled and closed the door. “That’s because you’ve been focusing on nothing but work for entire day.”

“I was in the middle of reviewing new transportation laws.”

“It’s your birthday, Your Majesty.”

Kai furrowed his brows. “I know that.”

Torin stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Have you considered taking a break? Having lunch, maybe?”

Kai waved his hand as if lunch was something meaningless. His portscreen pinged with a new message, occupying his attention immediately. Even though Kai showed nothing but strong dedication to work since he became emperor, Torin was starting to get worried about his social life. He knew young emperor had friends, but they were scattered all over the world. And with his girlfriend ruling the moon, he didn’t doubt Kai would get lonely sometimes. Nobody should feel lonely on their birthday.

“Kaito.” Torin used his first name so rarely it instantly got Kai’s attention. “Could you come to the security rooms for a minute? Guards said there was a… possible break-in.”

Kai’s jaw slacked. “A break-in? You’re only telling me now, Torin?”

Torin tried not to cringe at his horrible lie. The only thing that mattered was getting Kai out of his office. “Yes, well. It’s probably nothing serious.”

While they walked through palace hallways, Torin noticed the concern over possible security breach worrying the emperor. He felt sorry for adding unnecessary worries to Kai’s ever growing pile, but he hoped to make it up with his surprise. Kai was so in his head he hadn’t notice Torin had pressed a different elevator button.

“Torin, that’s not where security is.” Kai’s eyes narrowed as he saw where Torin was sending him. “I told you already I don’t need rest or a day off. Birthday or not, there’s so many things to do and I—“

The elevator doors opened in that second and Kai lost the power of speech as he saw who was waiting on the other side.

“Cinder,” he stammered from shock of seeing her for the first time in months.

She smiled and the whole room brightened. She was dressed in a beautiful pale violet dress that no doubt Iko forced her to wear. It had long flowing sleeves and, even though the dress itself was fluttering around her ankles, Cinder shifted from foot to foot as if she were uncomfortable. Regardless, Kai had never seen a prettier sight.

He seemed to have frozen right there, unable to move as he stared at her. Torin cleared his throat and gently pushed Kai out of the elevator. Kai turned just in time to see Torin’s smile that said You’re welcome. Then the elevator doors closed and they were left alone. Kai made a mental note to send Torin on a luxurious vacation.

Cinder approached him and wrapped her arms around his middle. The warmth from her body yanked Kai from whatever stupor he was in. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, twirling them in circle. Cinder let out a surprised yelp, followed by a gentle laugh in his ear.

He put her down and took her face in his hands. Cinder’s hair has already fallen from her fancy up-do- no doubt also courtesy of Iko- but she didn’t seem to care as she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Kai.

“Happy birthday,” she mumbled on his lips. Kai hummed and kissed her deeper, pulling her to his chest. Their kiss was full of longing, lonely hours and distant miles. When they finally separated, he took a step back to take another look at her.

“You’re here,” he said, still barely believing it. “You’re actually here. What—How?”

Cinder shrugged and reached to brush strands of hair that fell on Kai’s forehead. “Torin said you were a moping mess and I didn’t want you to spend your birthday sad and alone.”

Kai leaned forward to press a kiss on her lips. “How long are you staying?”

“I managed to take only two days off,” she said, giving him a sad smile.

Kai shook his head and grabbed her hand, leading her to his room at the end of the hallway. “I’m so happy to see you. Even if just for a minute, the fact that you’re here means more to me than I can explain.”

Cinder’s heart skipped a beat at his words. He was always better at sweet talk than she was. She smirked at the birthday boy as she closed the doors of his room behind her. “You should be even happier when you see I brought your favorite cake.”

Kai walked closer to the table in the middle of his spacious room and saw a small heart-shaped cake and a bottle of champagne. His eyes widened as he recognized the flavor. “Red velvet cake?”

Cinder nodded and bit her lip. “I made it myself.” She spent a whole day yesterday watching baking tutorials, dusted in powdered sugar. The cake looked decent only on her fourth try.

Kai stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. “You made this cake yourself? For me?”

“Of course I made it for you,” Cinder said, huffing in irritation. “It’s your birthday and as your girlfriend, it is my duty to make sure you spend this day doing things you love. I may not have been able to see you previous years, but I’m not letting you get away with it this time.”

Kai felt his chest warm with happiness and love. Even thought he was neck-deep in work, he couldn’t help but feel grateful that someone was actually making sure he had this day for himself. It’s been years since his country- and Cinder- weren’t the number one thought in his head. He leaned toward her to press a soft kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”

He grabbed the knife and sliced a big piece of cake for Cinder and one for himself. He laughed when he saw the bottle of champagne. “Strawberry flavored?”

“Without alcohol.”

They both smiled at the memory of last and first time Kai had alcohol. To no one’s surprise, Kai couldn’t really hold his drink. Cinder had seen him mildly drunk on only one occasion when Rampion crew was having a get-together a year before. He barely recognized her at the end of the night and he only had two drinks. Safe to say, Kai never had a drop of alcohol after that night.

They spent next few hours eating, laughing and kissing. They lounged on Kai’s huge bed, facing each other, telling stories they never got the chance to share during their late night video calls.

“You didn’t.” Kai was holding his stomach while laughing as Cinder told him about the time she came to the meeting dressed in cargo pants and tank top.

“Of course I did. In my defense, I was just leaving the garage and forgot to change into my dress. Iko was less than pleased with me.”

“I can imagine,” Kai said as he wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye. He stared deep into her eyes, her swollen lips. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said quietly.

Cinder stiffened, as if unsure whether it was a good or a bad thing. “Is that… good?”

Kai lifted his hand to caress her cheek. “Definitely good. I never doubted you would stay the same girl I fell in love with, but it’s nice to have reassurance.”

Cinder’s lips lifted in a smile when word love left his lips. Even though he said it too many times to count- her brain had tried- it still felt surreal to have this wonderful boy say that to her. She buried her face in his chest and Kai lifted her so she was on top of him.

After few quiet minutes Kai spoke again. “Thank you. Not just for this, but for seeing me as something more than just an emperor.”

Cinder lifted her head to look at his face. His eyes had a misty glow and from the tone of his voice she knew he was confiding in her thoughts that had troubled him for years. Maybe even his whole life.

“Everyone in this palace sees me as nothing more than a person who was thrown into position of power before he was ready. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all nice and helpful, but sometimes… It makes me feel less human in a way. Even outside of the palace, people know who I am, but they don’t really know me.” He scratched behind his ear. “Am I making any sense?”

“You do,” Cinder said quietly. “I get what you mean. I feel that way sometimes, too.”

Kai’s grip on her waist tightened.

“That’s why we have each other,” Cinder continued. “And our friends. They don’t’ see us as just royalty. At least I hope.”

Kai laughed and rolled them both over so they were facing each other. He kissed her nose, then her lips. “Let’s agree to surprise visit each other more often. Just to feel more human.”

Cinder smiled, kissing him one more time. “Agreed.”

[neworleansspecial]

for black! au what if Athena was doing a high profile investigation and it somehow led to Buck but when she pursued the lead it got shut down leading her to ask Eddie and Maddie questions

she doesn't get around to questioning Maddie/Eddie but enjoy some "Buck gets Arrested" content! //

Athena has been working this case for what feels like forever. A prominent international environmental activist was murdered in what was clearly an assassination, and it's been her precinct, her people, leading the investigation with a helping hand from the FBI, trying to figure out what happened. It's more than just who did it, but why, and who made them, because there's no doubt that this was a professional hit.

The investigation has been stalled for a few weeks when one of the rookie officers comes racing up to her desk with a flash drive in his hand, out of breath from running.

"Yes, Officer Martin?"

"Look what we found." He hands her the drive, which she immediately plugs into her computer to explore the contents of. "Most of the security cameras were disabled, but the baby monitor wasn't. The monitor was destroyed, as I'm sure you remember, but the company finally got us the footage. Our killer is on here!"

She searches through the files to find the last one, labeled with the date of the murder. "Have you seen it yet?"

"We thought you should be the first."

"Go get Agent Prentiss."

The rookie scurries off to get the FBI agent from the Captain's office while Athena loads the video up. She remembers the time frame the ME gave them and scrubs through the progress bar towards it, catching their victim looking up in surprise, presumably at their murderer's entrance just as Agent Prentiss pulls up a chair beside her.

"What are the odds our guy will be in the system?" Athena asks.

"A hit like this? Not good."

The monitor catches their perp walking in, his back to the camera. He looks familiar. Although she can't see his face, and the video is in black and white, she feels like she recognizes the slope of his shoulders.

"He's got tattoos," Prentiss notes. "That'll help. Two black lines on the forearm."

Athena's heart drops. This can't be right.

"And look, on his other bicep. That's a bar code."

Prentiss reaches around Athena to screencap the moment.

"This could be a problem. In our experience at the Bureau, two types of people use bar codes like that. Sex traffickers, to dehumanize their victims, and powerful government agencies, to identify bodies. I doubt this is that first one."

Their perp pulls out a gun and shoots the victim without hesitation. It's simple. One shot. A silencer was used, so no one heard. The victim never had the chance to get off their couch.

And then he turns around, and notices the monitor, stalking towards it to break it, at which point the feed cuts off. His face is imprinted in Athena's mind. She's seen it before. With her family. In her home. She talked to him just yesterday.

"Sergeant Grant, are you okay?"

Athena clears her throat. "I recognize him."

Prentiss rewinds the video to right before the perp broke the camera, his face in clear view. Even if Athena didn't recognize him, the birth mark would be a dead giveaway.

"That's Evan Buckley. I'm friends with his sister, Maddie, and his husband, Eddie. I'm friends with him." She looks away from the video. "I had him over for dinner last night."

"Do you know where he is?"

Mere minutes later, Athena and Prentiss are in her squad car, on their way to Eddie's apartment. Backup trails behind them, though Athena hopes they won't have to use it. They don't speak. Athena is struggling to reconcile the Evan who helps May with her math homework and babysits Jee-Yun and helped Bobby bake her a birthday cake is the same person who she just watched kill someone in cold blood. It's not him, even if he has always been a little off.

"Do you want me to do it?" Prentiss asks when they pull up in front of Eddie's house. "You don't have to be the one to bring him in."

"It's my job."

They walk up to Eddie's front door together, but it is Athena who knocks. Eddie answers the door in sweatpants and a hoodie that's just a little too big for him- Evan's hoodie, then.

"Athena? Is everything okay?"

"Is Evan home?"

He looks concerned, but he steps to the side to let her and Prentiss in, giving them a view of Evan sitting at the kitchen table with Christopher. The two of them appear to be playing some kind of board game. When Evan first sees them, Athena in her uniform and Prentiss projecting an air of authority, she can see the wheels turning in his brain. He glances toward the kitchen window. Then to the front door. Then back at her.

"Not in front of them," he says quietly. "Not in front of Chris and Eddie."

Athena will give him that much. "Step outside with us."

As he gets up, Evan kisses Christopher on the forehead and tells him to be good for his father, and then goes to Eddie, who he pulls into a tight hug.

"Evan, what's going on?" she hears Eddie whisper.

"It'll be okay," Evan assures.

Finally, he follows Athena and Prentiss out the door. The second that it clicks shut behind him, he presents his arms, as though he's been through this whole thing before. Maybe he has. It seems as though everything Athena knew about him was wrong.

"You don't need to read me my rights," he tells her.

Prentiss tilts her head to the side. "Legally, we have to."

"I'm not going to be in custody for long."

They read him his rights before putting him in the back of the car anyways.

For the entire drive back to the station, Evan is silent. He stares out the window, looking entirely unconcerned. Not once does he ask them what this is about, or how they found him out, or what's going to happen with him. For all the reaction he gives, it's like they're all taking a trip to the beach. He remains quiet even when Athena hauls him out of the squad car and into the precinct.

That's when things go bad.

Athena's captain is waiting at her desk, alongside Prentiss' coworker, Jareau, and two men in suits that look extremely official. "Sergeant Grant," her captain says, "please uncuff Mr. Buckley."

"We have him on tape committing murder."

"That evidence has been reviewed and found unreliable," one of the men in suits says.

Prentiss crosses her arms. "How was it unreliable?"

"Please uncuff Mr. Buckley," is the only response she gets.

Against her better judgement, Athena turns to Evan. He holds out his wrists to her once more, and watches her as she uncuffs him. There's no malice or anger in his eyes. They're blank. Almost like he's looking right through her.

"And who are you?" she asks.

"All you need to know is that your police department, and every other department in this country, defers to us. Come now, Mr. Buckley, we'll get you some coffee and explain this whole thing."

Evan leaves Athena's side to be led off by the two men, though when he casts a glance back at her over his shoulder, she gets the distinct sense that he's trying to tell her something.

[luninosity]

Okay, so, some Falcon and the Winter Soldier thoughts (will have some spoilers) for episodes two and three. General non-spoilery comment first: I feel like these were both *okay* episodes - neither as good as the first, but I didn’t dislike them, either. I’m still really curious to see how we’re going to wrap this all up in three more episodes; it doesn’t feel like we’re halfway done yet!

Okay, more spoiler-y notes below the Read More, not in any real order, just as I think and type. I’ll probably forget some things, but for now, here’re some thoughts...

--I like ep 3 slightly more than ep 2, mostly because of Zemo!

--I actually really love Zemo here (I liked him in Civil War, too): complex, sardonic, enjoying poking at people, a villain we do feel sympathy for even as he’s still sharp enough to remind us that he is a villain. Daniel Bruhl has always done a fantastic job flipping between calculated cruelty, wry humor - the whole “I am a Baron” moment was great - and pain that for him is still raw, about the loss of his family. (Some things’re awfully cliche - look, the supervillain’s playing chess and reading Machiavelli in his cell? really? - but, y’know...sure. Why not. We expect some cliches in the superhero genre, and this is an inoffensive one.)

--also Zemo dancing. That’s it. That’s everything.

--moving on from that: I’m also really liking how they’re writing John Walker. He does have charm, and there’s a certain amount of sympathy - especially as we see him worrying about filling the Captain America shoes, in ep 2 - but we’re also getting this really subtle sense of wrongness about him. He’s clearly vindictive and angry when things (and people) don’t act according to his mental script for them, and he’s willing to use his name and power to do things like get Bucky released...which in context and given our sympathies for Bucky is a good thing, but...it’s also an indicator of his willingness to do what he wants, because he can. (To be fair, Steve Rogers also often did that! - but Steve earned our trust, both in narrative and character. From his first introduction to WWII leadership experience to all the Avengers stuff, Steve consistently acts to protect people, and he’ll also listen if someone else has a good idea or if someone needs to talk, like with Wanda.) So I’m really liking this slow-fuse character development.

--mixed feelings about Sharon. I love that the show’s acknowledging how much she sacrificed for our main heroes, with no reward. On the other hand, she also clearly knew the consequences that could happen; she said as much at the time. The level of bitterness seems like a lot. But I’m also interested in everything we still don’t know about her - if she’s not the Power Broker herself, she’s obviously Up To Something. So that should be fun.

--hey, look at that X-Men location, with Majipoor! Also a nod to Wolverine’s favorite bar there, I think?

--I love heist and disguise plots!

--I also really like Bucky’s having to revert to the Winter Soldier - Sebastian Stan does it so brilliantly, with so many layers of emotion: not wanting to, loathing it, recognizing the necessity, shutting off all emotion and just coldly doing it, hurting but covering it up...just fantastic, and you know I love some hurt/comfort, and this seems like such a great set-up for emotional hurt

--but! this also seems like...a weird plot hole, kind of? Bucky’s pretty famous at this point, right? I imagine the criminal underworld knows he’s been pardoned and deprogrammed, right? or do they assume Zemo, with his knowledge of Hydra, still has some special control over him?

--along the same “this seems like someone didn’t think this through” path, Sam, you’re a professional, turn off your phone on a mission. Oh my god. Face-palmingly stupid - and I think somewhat lazy writing, as the writers plainly needed a giveaway, and went for the first idea they had. Even if it made a main character look incompetent.

--the Flag Smashers and Karli are...fine. They feel very Generic Marvel Villain - not the big space alien type, but the other type, the “I have a personal loss and motivating pain so I’m a little sympathetic but also Clearly Evil, watch me kill civilians so the audience won’t ever find me TOO sympathetic” type. Meh. Fine. Zemo’s more interesting, but...fine.

--Anthony Mackie is such a fantastic actor - every bit of his reaction to the Isaiah Bradley reveal is so good. The anger, pain, frustration, ferocity...heartbreaking. Actually that whole scene is so good - his emotions at discovering this secret history are palpable, and it’s so painful, because we also understand why Bucky would keep the secret - as someone who knows about pain and trauma and being experimented on, and knowing Isaiah wants to be left alone - we feel really deeply for both characters here, and it’s great.

--I actually liked the abrupt swing from the Isaiah Bradley encounter to the casual everyday racism of the cops on the street - is it subtle, no. But it’s not meant to be: it’s meant to be standing up and shouting about how not that much has really changed, and about how pervasive racism is. I know some reviews were all, “this was just too much!” or “too forced!” but...look, it needs to be shouted sometimes for people to hear.

--Bucky’s notebook being Steve’s, oh, ouch, my feelings. If I had the time and energy to write fic...

--(also, if I had the time and energy to write dark!fic: where’re my fics in which Zemo’s implication about the Winter Soldier “doing anything you want” gets played with? what or who does Bucky have to do to keep the undercover charade going? so many Bad Wrong Kinky power dynamics and explorations of consent and what this would do to Bucky’s head, here, and honestly I’d totally read them all, just saying.)

--Sam and Bucky together...I don’t know. This is one of the elements that I’m not actually a huge fan of, but I think it’s partly a personal genre / sense of humor thing that’s not clicking for me, personally, again. Like...

--I don’t find people shouting aggrievedly at each other to be funny? I’m not sure why it is.

--I mean, I get that they’re doing, like, eighties buddy cop movies, but...it got old really fast then, and it’s not something we needed to bring back. It’s not clever, and it’s...well, shouty and annoying.

--(I say this as someone who genuinely likes the first two Lethal Weapon movies...but the significant difference is, I think, we’re also shown in both those movies that Riggs and Murtaugh care about each other. They don’t want to be partners initially, and they don’t get along initially, and they do argue over tactics**...but they immediately feel responsible for each other and act to protect each other even as they argue, because it’s the right thing to do and we’re shown moments of them awkwardly trying to connect, because they both have that deep sense of...protectiveness...that makes them Good People - like, if they learn something that the other person needs to know, they tell each other. They protect each other’s families / love interests. So by the end of the second movie, with that fabulous character death fake-out, Murtaugh’s initial shock and grief is real and powerful and painful, and so is his genuine relief when the worst isn’t true - and it’s all earned.) (**however, they tend to argue tactics *before* jumping in - “is it 1, 2, 3, go on 3? or 3, then go?” And then once that’s established, they go ahead. That makes a difference as far as...well...competence and teamwork!)

--(Sam and Bucky, as far as I can tell, don’t do the above, and just...maybe shouldn’t be working together?)

--I also don’t find grown men acting like my youngest nephew, when he’s having a temper tantrum, to be funny. Staring contests? Random insults? Sulking in silence? Oh, grow up.

--(Also, yes, writers, we see you with the “couples therapy” and “get closer and make your legs touch” and “landing on top of each other as they hit the ground” moments. I, at least, personally, am very tired of...I don’t know that I’d call it queerbaiting exactly, but this idea that we’re supposed to find these moments funny...because why? Because, ooh, they’re two men getting close to each other, physically or emotionally? Why is this a thing we need to draw attention to? Do you think you’re doing some sort of fan service? Please either make Sam/Bucky happen or stop doing this.)

--both Sam and Bucky are highly competent and professional agents, or they should be. They should know how to work in the field - even with people they may not like - and adapt to shifting strategy, make best use of available assets, include people in the plan, etc. I can’t help but compare this to something like, say, Leverage, which also has a team who mocks each other and makes jokes but clearly absolutely respects each other’s capabilities, has a plan going in and tells everyone what the plan is, and adapts (and trusts each other to adapt) on the fly as necessary, and does it all without random insults about someone’s (PTSD-related) staring and “robot brain”.

--one of the very specific moments that bothers me a lot is the ending of the therapy scene (yay for showing heroes in therapy! but also I’m pretty sure she’s...not a great therapist?). Bucky finally opens up and says something real, about his own self-doubt and wondering whether Steve was wrong about him....and Sam just...brushes it off and goes, “we’re done here,” basically. Not only does that feel wildly out of character for former counselor Sam, it feels cruel. I really deeply dislike that moment the more I think about it. Makes me want to scream.

--Sam insults Bucky way more than the other way around. It’s starting to feel very one-sided (it’d be better if more clearly reciprocal, though it’s still not a dynamic that’s my favorite), and again, feels out of character - maybe this is Anthony Mackie’s sense of humor, but Sam isn’t Mackie, and Bucky isn’t Seb, and it reads as...a weird unbalanced power-trip thing to me. And also out of character for Sam, who can be sarcastic (”If you guys eat that sort of thing,” about breakfast, when Steve and Nat have randomly shown up at his door) but that’s not the same as just throwing unprovoked insults at a person who’s trying to recover from trauma, and a lot of those insults seem to center on things that were done to Bucky, that he had no choice in (the staring, the arm, etc), and that feels....it just feels mean, to me. Make fun of things he’s had a choice in / can do something about, if you have to - hair, clothes, liking “old people’s games” like gin rummy or pinochle, not knowing who Beyonce is, I don’t know, there are so many options that aren’t cruel! Do that instead. Let Bucky have a good comeback for once, too!

--the action scenes are action scenes. Also fine.

--Sam might be right about destroying the shield, and the show may even be (unintentionally?) setting that up as the best outcome, but that’s a problem for the future, Sam; get it back first. Also it’s a problem you caused by giving the shield up - did you really trust the government to leave it unused in a museum? You’re not that naive.

--overall, it’s...a perfectly fine show, so far, I think? Solid, and interesting, but not great. I think some of what doesn’t work for me is because it doesn’t work for me personally, as far as the shouty insult-heavy action “comedy” bits that I’m not enjoying, but I think they’re doing what they aimed for with it, so in that sense, I guess it’s working? There’s a lot of really cool stuff around the edges - John Walker, Isaiah Bradley, that Dora Milaje stinger, the bigger world of a history interwoven with racism and superpowers, the chillingly effective use of Bucky’s past - but I wish I liked the central Sam-Bucky relationship more. Individually they’re wonderful - they’ve both had such powerful scenes dealing with family, trauma, and consequences - but I feel like, in the effort to do the buddy comedy dynamic, the writing has just made me really sure that they actually genuinely don’t like each other? To such an extent that if they show any affection / caring / interest in each other in the last three episodes, it won’t be believable. (I mean Sam and Bucky, not Mackie and Seb. Mackie and Seb’re adorable.)

--I just want to think about Zemo dancing some more.

[chelsfic]

Leftovers Part 9 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

A/N: Quick note-- most roller derby leagues don’t actually take a break from practicing during the off-season *shrug.* Hey, hey, hey, guys? Let me know what you think! I am an ACTUAL ENERGY VAMPIRE, but I feed off your kind words and support--love you!

Summary: Nandor is on the reader’s shit list, but will they reunite when a minor medical emergency pops up? (yes)

Warnings: Female Reader-insert, Angst, Medical shit (migraines, lasting effects of the vamp attack at the rave), Hypnotism

---

“Guillermooo! I’m ready for my slumber now!” Nandor bellows, standing impatiently by his open coffin and waiting for his familiar to arrive so he can complete his bedtime routine.

Guillermo appears, huffing and puffing, a moment later, “I’m sorry, master! I forgot…”

“Well, that’s unacceptable, Guillermo!,” Nandor whines with a scowl. “You’re my familiar. It’s your job to remember these things. You’d think after five years--”

“Eleven,” Guillermo interjects with a pained smile. “Eleven years, master.”

Nandor looks momentarily shocked before regaining his momentum, “Okay...Eleven years… Fine. You’d think that you would remember to come and help me get ready for bed. It’s not that difficult.”

Guillermo lets the scolding roll off his back. He knows his master is hurting. In truth, Nandor hasn’t wanted Guillermo’s help at bedtime in weeks. It’s only now that his coffin is feeling a little lonely that he’s reverting back to his old ways. Guillermo rushes to untie his master’s cravat and helps him slip off the heavy cape. The vampire looks temporarily mollified.

“Very well,” Nandor sniffs, taking Guillermo’s hand as he steps up into the coffin. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you, master,” Guillermo smiles lightly and moves to take hold of the coffin’s lid. Nandor suddenly reaches up to stop him.

“Guillermo…” he fidgets and avoids eye contact as he asks, “Do you think she’ll be angry with me for much longer?”

Guillermo looks down at his master, feeling contrary ties of loyalty tugging on him as he decides what to say.

In the end he takes pity on Nandor, reaching down to pat his soft hair and murmuring, “I’m sure she’ll forgive you soon, master.”

“Thank you, Guillermo,” Nandor sighs, shutting his eyes and crossing his hands over his chest. “You’re a good familiar.”

He gently closes the lid, feeling a happy swell in his chest despite his concern. It’s been a few days since the orgy and his friend still hasn’t shown any signs of forgiving Nandor. He knows she’s hurt, but Guillermo silently hopes things will smooth over soon. An angsty vampire makes for an unhappy familiar.

---

After Nandor let you out of the basement you ran to the shower, dousing yourself in steaming water to chase the chill out of your body. But no matter how many hot showers or layers of clothing you put on, you can’t ever seem to warm up. At least not on the inside. In the span of just a few days you’ve gone from the heights of happiness to the dumps of misery. The worst part is that you’re not even angry anymore. You’re numb to it. All you want is to fall back into Nandor’s arms and let him make you feel good like no one else has.

But…

It’s not that he slept with who knows how many people at the orgy. It’s not even that he locked you in a basement and forgot about you. It’s that he treated you like a thing. Like his possession, whose feelings and thoughts are insignificant in the face of almost eight hundred years of immortal life. For a little while Nandor made you feel special, and then he’d gone and ruined it.

You don’t even have your usual outlet! Bout season is over and practice won’t start up again for another month. And to make matters even better: all this drama seems to be aggravating your stupid brain because, for the first time in weeks, you’re feeling the dragging ache in your head left by the vampire attack at the rave. It’s been a dull, throbbing pain for a couple days now, but tonight it’s grown into a pulsing, stomach-churning migraine. You lock yourself up in your room with the lights off. The housemates probably assume you’re brooding over Nandor. But mostly...you’re just in pain. And scared.

It’s after midnight and the pain shows no signs of diminishing. You finally drag yourself out of your room, squinting blearily against the blinding glare of the candlelight, and seeking out one of the two licensed drivers in the house.

---

“The closest urgent care is on Richmond, but according to the Google reviews, we’ll have shorter wait times if we drive a bit farther to the one on Victory Boulevard. Of course, it’s entirely up to you but--”

“Colin,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper, “can you please take me to the closest one and maybe try to resist the urge to feed? I already feel like shit.”

Colin pauses, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel and saying, quietly, “I wasn’t...I was just trying to be helpful.”

You immediately feel guilty and then you question if, in fact, he’s still feeding. Being friends with an energy vampire is...draining.

He drives you to the urgent care, walking inside the crowded waiting area with you and taking charge of your intake paperwork. Okay, now you could kiss him, because bureaucracy is like Colin’s native language and you’re pretty sure he uses some of his power to manipulate the staff into getting you seen sooner. In under an hour you’re leaving with a prescription and feeling a little less anxious about the possibility that you might drop dead from an aneurysm. 

You’re pulling out of the pharmacy parking lot and back out onto the road when a small, squeaking, flying thing suddenly soars through your open window and erupts in the backseat, transforming into your dark, sullen vampire lover. 

You shriek in alarm, looking out the window and noting the lightening sky on the horizon. Your heart jumps up into your throat, “Nandor! What are you doing, it’s almost daybreak!”

Nandor sits forward in his seat and leans in close to you as he speaks, “Guillermo told me you have been to the human medical shamans! What is wrong, my human?”

“It’s...nothing, Nandor. I’ll be fine. I had a bad migraine,” you mumble. You’re too exhausted to be having this conversation.

Nandor continues, unphased, “Then you should have come to me, not fucking Colin Robinson!”

“Why?” you blurt out, suddenly done with avoiding the hurt you’ve been dwelling in for days. “Because you care about me? Or because I’m your property?”

Nandor looks bewildered, “You are my human…”

You shake your head violently, turning away in your seat with an angry growl.

“...And I do care, my love…”

Sighing, you fix your eyes on the metal guardrail at the side of the road as it flashes by. Colin Robinson is sitting rigid in the driver’s seat, beaming as he gulps down the emotions flooding the vehicle. Nandor reaches out to curl his fingers through your hair just as the first rays of sunlight break over the horizon.

“Nandor, the sun!” you cry, all thoughts of your hurt and anger flying from your head. You turn around in your seat to lock eyes with your lover for one meaningful instant before he transforms into his bat form. 

You scramble for the purse at your feet, upending it onto the floor before holding it up and frantically gesturing to the flapping little bat in the backseat. 

“Get in, baby!” you plead, uncertain of how much communication actually gets through in this form.

You breathe a shaky sigh of relief as Nandor flies into the bag, curling up at the bottom with a frightened squeak. 

“Fucking hell,” you mumble. Your heart is racing in your chest. Cautiously, you open the purse to peer inside at the furry, winged creature who is...your boyfriend. You reach in and gingerly stroke your fingers over his little head. The bat’s teeth close on one finger in an affectionate, soft bite. “You’re okay now…”

Colin Robinson pulls up outside the house and turns to you with his eyes blazing, “Well, this has been quite the night!”

---

You carry Bat-Nandor into his room, taking him out of your bag and gently placing him in the fur-lined coffin. Even though you’re expecting it, you can’t help but jump back when he transforms before your eyes. You’re still not used to witnessing actual magic. 

He looks up at you with a look that’s all soft, liquid eyes and remorseful submission. 

“Will you stay with me?” he asks diffidently, toying with a tuft of rich fur on the coffin lining. “Please?”

You weigh your options. On the one hand you really miss falling asleep in Nandor’s strong arms, with the comforting scent of him wrapped around your body like a blanket. And when you pause for a moment you realize that the ache in your head hasn’t bothered you since he flew into Colin Robinson’s car. 

On the other hand…

“Is there anything you want to say to me, first?” you prompt, arching your brow expectantly. 

Nandor swallows his pride, thinking back to those horrible days when Guillermo left him for fucking Celeste. He sits up and takes your hand in his as he says, “I’m sorry I treated you like a belonging and not a person. I appreciate you very much. And I--I love you. And also, I’m sorry for forgetting about you and Guillermo in the basement…it probably won’t happen again.”

You let out a laugh, tears stinging your eyes as you reply, “I love you too, Nandor. And...I’m sorry, too. I don’t even care anymore about the stupid orgy anymore. But I should have...tried to understand it more. I think.”

Nandor sits up, grasping your face between his hands and pulling you in closer. 

“I wanted you with me at my side, my mortal,” he hisses, dropping little kisses onto your lips. “One day you will be. I’ll make you a vampire and together we will be the life of every vampire orgy. We’ll feast on virgin blood and make love until the end of time.”

Before you can form anything approaching a reaction, he claims your mouth with his, sucking your lower lip and pushing his tongue forward to tangle with yours. You cling to the fur collar of his coat, hanging on for dear life as your knees go weak. Every time you kiss it feels like you’re diving into a hot spring, losing yourself so deliciously to the sensation of his touch.

“You want that don’t you, my mortal?” he pants against your lips, reaching down to casually lift you off your feet and settle you on his lap. “Immortal life? Immortal love?”

He pauses kissing you and you rest your cheek against the top of his head, enjoying the soft brush of his hair against your skin. Do you want that? To be a vampire? To never see the sun again? To drink blood to live? To never say goodbye to this beautiful, idiot man you seem to love?

“Yes, Nandor,” you murmur, pressing your lips into his hair and breathing his scent. “I do.”

He leans his head back and kisses you once more, running his lips over your cheeks, your jaw, the long column of your exposed throat.

“Uhm!” you interrupt, a little panicked. “But not this minute, right? You have to give me some warning…”

Nandor chuckles, smoothing his hands up and down your back in reassurance.

“No, mortal. Dawn isn’t exactly an ideal time to make a new vampire…”

“Oh...okay, good,” you sigh, settling down into his arms once more. “Because I have one condition…”

---

A little while later, you’re sealed up, snug as a bug in Nandor’s coffin, with his arms wrapped around you and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. You press a kiss to his cool skin and his chest rumbles with a satisfied purr. For the first time in hours and hours your skull doesn’t feel like it’s about to crack in two and you ponder the reason for that. Of course, like all vampires, Nandor has the power of hypnosis. Maybe his very presence has a soothing effect? Like he transmits a frequency that cancels out whatever that asshole did to you?

“Nandor?” you whisper, unsure if he’s fallen asleep yet or not.

“Yes, my mortal?” he answers at once, tightening his arms around you.

“When I’m with you my head doesn’t hurt so bad… But, do you think--do you think that vampire did some kind of...lasting damage?” the question has been on the back of your mind ever since the attack but you’ve been too afraid to give a voice to your worry. 

A low growl escapes his throat as he replies, “That shit chicken vampire hurt you because he can’t even hypnotize correctly.”

“But...” you pause, steeling yourself. Are you really about to put this level of trust in him? “You can fix it, can’t you?”

Nandor pauses, swallowing down a lump of nerves as he considers. He wants nothing more than to make you feel better. But there was the time he and Laszlo gave Sean the brain scramblies…

But this time would be different. He would be so, so gentle. So careful…

He raises the lid of the coffin, sitting up and pulling you with him. A few candles still flicker from the tables around the room, forgotten in his eagerness to have you in his arms. Nandor’s pale skin glows faintly in the low light, the lines of his body lost in shadows. 

“Look into my eyes, little human,” he commands, his voice is deep and drawling. 

You obey, looking up at him as your body visibly trembles. You’re frightened.

“Shh,” Nandor hushes, running his hands up your arms and settling them onto your shoulders. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod, remembering how fragile and weak he’d felt when you’d carried his bat-form in your hands. You can give him the same trust. You can put yourself in his hands now and know that he won’t hurt you.

His dark eyes burn with intensity as he continues, “You are now under my command…”

---

A/N: I require CAKES AND CREAMS!! Candies and streamers and sticky, sticky toffee! Actually I just need some soft comments because I AGONIZED over this??!?!?!?! 

Tags:

@festering-queen @kandomeresbitch @strangestdiary @glitterportrait @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows @sarasxe​ @rileyomalley​

[destiniesfic]

132 Hours, Chapter 3:

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

Previous

Read chapter 3 on AO3, or read below:

“Sherlock Holmes.”

I barely have to think about it. “Sherlock Holmes was an omega.”

“No.” Cardan sounds totally affronted. “No way. How can you even say that?”

For lack of anything better to do, we have been playing this game for nearly an hour. Mostly fictional characters, but some historical figures, too, who are up for debate. As much as alphas would love to lay claim to every known conqueror, it just isn’t realistic. Cardan and I have already gone back and forth on Alexander the Great and Ivan the Terrible and Ghengis Khan. Designations live in a kind of middle space between gender and sexual orientation, so people make assumptions based on the way you present in society, but also whether you’re an alpha, an omega, or a mythical beta is, technically, no one’s business but yours. So, especially in older stories, these things go unsaid or are discreetly left for the reader to surmise.

“Why would he be an alpha?” I challenge.

Cardan is sitting in his corner, one leg propped up, elbow on knee, same as before. He shrugs. “I mean, he feels empowered to take charge in crime scene investigations, he’s assertive—”

“You’re thinking of the BBC reboot,” I scoff. “The way Conan Doyle wrote his Holmes wasn’t like that. He was an expert, yes, and knew it, but he admitted it when someone bested him, and he went out of his way to help vulnerable people. People who had been scammed, or… single women.”

As bad as it seems for omegas and women—especially omega women—now, it would have been even worse in the stratified Victorian era. We still have our strata, but they were more codified then:

Alpha men

Alpha women/omega men (depending on the situation)

Omega women

And, of course, it was all way worse when race and class got thrown in. The point is that someone like Violet Smith of “The Solitary Cyclist”—a woman, assumed omega, and poor—would have been in real trouble without Holmes’ help.

“So he’s an omega because he’s nice to widows?” Cardan asks, with a glare.

“No, he’s an omega because he pays attention,” I reply. “Alphas don’t need to pay attention the way Sherlock Holmes does. You just waltz in and traipse all over whatever or whoever and always get your way. Who cares about the details when you’re an alpha? But Sherlock Holmes looks hard at the little things. You don’t do that if you don’t have to, if you’re not used to walking into a room and assessing threats, figuring out the balance of power. All the time. Because it’s exhausting, but you have to do it.”

Cardan is quiet for a beat too long, and I realize I may have actually said more about myself than about Sherlock Holmes. But he spares me by saying, “Surely we’re not all that bad.”

I make a noncommittal sound.

“Your dad’s an alpha, right?” he continues. “He took you and Taryn in after your parents died. He didn’t have to do that.”

I have to keep myself from snorting. No one who’s met Madoc would ever describe him as particularly nice or even giving. “Did you know Vivi has a pet conspiracy theory that he killed our parents in the first place?”

“What?”

“Not himself, obviously. That he hired someone to sabotage the car we were in.” I don’t know why I tell him. The second it leaves my mouth it feels like a family secret, or an in-joke I’m not supposed to share. But I can’t stop talking. “I mean, it was just luck we weren’t killed, Taryn and Vivi and I. But my parents’ car was new. The brakes shouldn’t have given out like they did. Anyway, Vivi thinks he took us in because he felt guilty.”

“I mean, that’s… crazy to think your dad was involved.” But Cardan says it too slowly, and hastens to add, “He isn’t a supervillain.”

“Yeah, I know. Just with everything that happened after, the way he swooped in, she was always suspicious.” I feel my mouth twitch, but I don’t know whether I want to smile or scowl. “I think she wanted us to be like The Boxcar Children and run away to live in the woods.”

“Well, you’re getting the one-room, no-running-water experience now.”

I catch myself smiling—he’s funny—and force my mouth into a frown, scouring our little room again for anything useful. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Even the socket that would hold a bare lightbulb is empty. Finally, my eyes settle on the one tiny window, set close to the ceiling, letting in a meager amount of natural light that does seem to have grown brighter as we talked.

“Let me step on your back,” I say abruptly.

“You want to what?”

“Step on your back,” I repeat, exasperated. “Are you tall enough to reach that window without a stool?”

“No?”

“Well, neither am I.” I fold my arms. “So I’m going to need you to give me a boost.”

He arches a critical eyebrow. “Why don’t you just sit on my shoulders?”

I blink at him. “Because… I thought you wouldn’t want to put your head anywhere near my crotch? Given how I reek and all.”

“But you thought I’d want to be stepped on? Jesus.” Cardan rubs a hand over his face. “What do you think I’m into? Look, I’ll crouch down, you get on my shoulders and look out the window. It’s not like I’m putting my face in your vag.” I shudder, and he adds, “We’ll never have to talk about it again. Okay?”

“Sounds great to me,” I say.

He nods and crouches down. I am not prepared for the way my heart thumps in my chest at the sight of the guy who made my life miserable since I was in seventh grade, who pushed me during gym, who whispered vile things in my ear whenever he could, who empowered other kids to do the same or worse waiting for me to climb onto his shoulders with his head bowed. It’s not real power, it’s just temporary, but it is intoxicating.

Then Cardan says, “Taking your time, huh?” and I snap out of it.

“Why the rush?” I ask. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I was thinking anywhere but here would be great.” He looks up at me. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I swing my legs over him and let him hoist me up on his shoulders. I haven’t exactly been invited to participate in a ton of games of chicken fight in the pool, so it’s been some time since anyone carried me like this. Maybe not since Taryn and I were very small, just after our parents died, when Madoc would help us get things from high kitchen shelves. I gasp when I’m lifted. Cardan is strong enough that it seems effortless, but I also hear him let out a small grunt.

“Not a word,” I say, dreading the jab he might make about my weight. “Move me closer to the window.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Cardan mutters, but he obliges.

I am extremely conscious of his hands on my bare thighs, the way his muscles shift under my shoulders. Some alphas, like the guy who tried to grab me at the party, are kind of muscle-bound in an unattractive way. Not Cardan. Cardan has just the right amount to be fit and lean, with the bare minimum amount of body fat, but not so much muscle that he tips over into ungraceful. He’s a sports car of a person, lithe and elegant. It’s no mystery why his shirtless TikToks get so many views.

I get my hands on the windowsill so he’s not bearing my full weight, and then I groan. “Bad news.”

“What?”

“Well, I definitely can’t fit through here. I can kind of see the sky, so I would guess it’s maybe ten a.m. Otherwise there’s just a window well. Plastic and dirt. I can’t make out our surroundings at all.” I sigh. “We’re in a basement.”

There’s an awkward pause, and then Cardan says, “At least we know for sure.”

“Yeah. Put me down?”

He does, and we go back to our respective seats, mentally reviewing what we know. The only door is, of course, locked from outside. The floor is bare concrete, the ceiling exposed insulation and tubing, so we might be in a storeroom of some kind, or an unfinished basement in an older house. Our kidnappers left us with absolutely nothing, so no phones. Even my keychain, with the Swiss army knife Madoc gave me before my first summer at sleep-away camp, is gone.

We are growing hungrier and more sullen with each passing minute when there is a knock at the door.

Cardan and I glance at each other from our opposite sides of the room. “Um,” I say. Are kidnappers supposed to be polite?

Cardan shrugs one shoulder, then straightens up, lifting his chin in a decidedly imperious way. Trying to summon some air of command, some macho alpha-ness that will help us out of this. It could work—it is half working on me, I begrudgingly admit to myself, because my stupid brain is wired that way—if we weren’t both grimy from sitting on the floor and still a little woozy from the drugs.

“Come in,” he calls.

The door is opened slightly, and the first thing to poke through it is the barrel of a pistol. A 9mm, by the looks of it. Cardan’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“You kids willing to behave?” comes a voice. It’s a man’s voice, strangely melodious. I was expecting the sandpapery roughness of an old-school gangster. I know it’s stereotypical, but I’ve never been kidnapped before, and it’s not like they make a manual.

Cardan and I glance at each other again. I’m not sure what we’re looking to find in each other’s faces.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’re good.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to shoot you.” The man pushes the door open the rest of the way, and I have to press my lips shut to keep from gasping. There are disfiguring scars that cut across his cheeks, down his jaw, even one across the bridge of his nose. I’m not even sure what makes scars like that, jagged and rough-edged. If it was a knife, it wasn’t clean work. Someone was making a point.

I am immediately relieved, though, because his resonant voice had made me think we could be dealing with a real alpha, someone whose words hold command. This man is of average height, average build. If not for the scars, for the obviously broken nose, he would be totally unremarkable.

“Who are you?” Cardan asks. I am reluctantly impressed that he manages to sound haughty in this situation. He’s sitting up straight with his back against the wall, one leg outstretched, the other bent, his foot planted on the floor. He’s resting his elbow on that knee, like it’s all effortless.

“Breakfast service,” replies the man, still pointing the pistol at us. He tosses a McDonald’s bag into the room, then he and the gun retreat, and the door shuts behind him. We hear the click of a lock and then, to my horror, the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place.

Cardan exhales and reaches for the bag.

“Don’t!” I exclaim. “Seriously, it might be drugged.”

“It—what?” he asks. “Now you decide to care about whether the food is drugged? This isn’t Flowers in the Attic, Jude. We’re hostages. They want to ransom us. They’re not going to poison us.”

I blink at him. “Flowers in the Attic? You’ve read a book?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the bag. “Well, if you’re not going to eat it, I will.”

When he opens the bag, the smell of sausage grease and egg hit me like a truck. My stomach growls. I am suddenly very aware that the last time I ate was before the party, and my nerves had kept me from eating much then. “What… is it?”

“Two McMuffins.” He looks up at me. “See? They don’t want to starve us. They’re keeping us alive.”

“They could still tamper with them. Sedatives or something. Keep us complacent, keep us from doing what we’re going to do, which is try to escape.”

Cardan arches an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you you’re unbelievably paranoid?”

I think of Taryn and purse my lips. “Did you know it wouldn’t kill you to take something seriously?”

He holds up one hand, fingers spread wide. “Okay. How about this. I eat a McMuffin because I am fucking starving, and if they put anything in it it’ll get me and work through my system faster. You can stay up scheming or whatever. If nothing happens after like fifteen minutes, you get to eat yours. Or if you decide to be stubborn, I’ll eat it. Deal?”

“It’ll be cold and gross.” I cross my arms. “But fine.”

“Good.” Cardan takes a McMuffin out of the bag—his hands are so big that it barely looks like enough food for him—and devours it in what must be record time. I turn my head away.

“Where’s the nearest McDonald’s, do you think?” I ask

“Huh?”

“We were in East Hampton. They don’t have one there.”

“Uh-huh. That’s a good point.” I look back to see Cardan sucking grease off his thumb. “Dunno. Closer to the middle of the island, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I echo quietly. Without knowing how long we were out, it seems impossible to figure out where they could have taken us. “You’re right. We couldn’t be in the city.”

Cardan shakes his head. “Nah, don’t think so. Too quiet, and like you said, that’s definitely daylight, so people’d be out and about.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking up at the window.

He looks at the window, too, but doesn’t say anything, and we lapse into silence. It’s strange, to be sharing space with him, to be quiet. I could never have imagined anything like it, not with our fraught history. There’s no world in which Cardan Greenbriar and I could be friends, but, at least temporarily, we are not enemies.

“Did you like it?” I asked at last, when the silence stops being neutral and begins to make me feel anew how tired and tense I am.

“Like what?”

“Flowers in the Attic.”

“Oh.” He blinks twice, his dark eyelashes fluttering. “I read it a few years ago, but, yeah. I did. You know, it was nice to read about a family that was more fucked up than mine.” He raises his eyebrows. “Spicy, too.”

I scoff. “How can your family be so fucked up you’d read a gothic novel for catharsis?”

Cardan drums his fingers on his knee. “How much do you know about my family?”

“You’re old money. One of those alpha families that claims they’re pure alpha for generations.” Which is pretty much impossible, but everyone in that tier of society tells the same lie. Half the kids in my school claim to be pure alpha, and on paper both of their parents are alphas. But while alpha men and women can reproduce—they have the right gametes—it’s not easy. More likely omega egg donors, and, before that, omega surrogates who were well-paid. It’s no wonder they see us as breeders.

I start ticking off additional facts on my fingers. “Your great-grandfather was one of the great American magnates, but it was his alpha daughter, Mab Greenbriar, who really made something of his millions. Your dad was her only son, so he inherited the whole corporation. You have five older siblings: Balekin, Elowyn, Dain, Caelia, Rhyia—”

Cardan holds up both his hands. “Yeah, yeah. I get the point.”

“It’s all on Wikipedia.” I shrug, and to sound less like a weird stalker, I add, “And Vivi and Rhyia are like best friends.”

“You know, and I know you said it before, but I do forget Vivienne’s your sister. She’s so cool.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”

I get it, though. He probably thinks Vivi’s cool because she’s an alpha, but she also gets points for being the family rebel. Her biological dad, Madoc, adopted us all after the car crash that killed our parents, but she never wanted to be the natural successor he hoped for. Now she plays rugby at an all-girls’ college, has three cartilage studs and a septum piercing, shaves half her head, and is defiantly, unapologetically queer. It’s a different path than I would take, but marching to the beat of your own drum is definitely something that appeals to people.

“By the way,” Cardan says, “it’s been a few minutes and I feel fine. Well, as fine as one can feel having eaten only one McMuffin. I don’t feel any worse.”

“Okay.” I hold out my hand. “Toss me the bag.”

The bag crinkles when he picks it up, then he looks inside. “I think I’m owed a poison taster’s fee.”

“Huh?”

Cardan takes my McMuffin out of the bag, takes a bite out of it, then drops it back in the bag, which he proceeds to lob at my head. I catch it, face wrinkling in disgust. “Ew!”

“What? I need the calories more.”

I shake the bag at him. “I am not eating this,” I huff.

“We split the water bottle. That didn’t kill you.” Cardan sits back against the wall and closes his eyes. “Besides, who knows when they’re going to decide to feed us again?”

“You’re all so gross,” I mutter as I open the bag and pull out my breakfast. He’s right, and I hate that he’s right. I also hate that my hunger is enough to overcome my revulsion, at both the stolen bite and the undeniable fact that my McMuffin is now cold. I stuff it in my mouth, devouring the rest of it in only a few bites.

“Who’s gross?” he asks. “Alphas? Boys?”

“Alpha boys,” I inform him, with my mouth full.

“Big words from somebody whose designation’s known for leaking fluids everywhere.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “We’re not the only designation that leaks,” I point out. “We’re just the only one that gets shit for it. We’re the ones who’re thought of as gross while you and your type get to go around ruling the world.”

“Oh, sure. That has nothing to do with the way you guys are totally incapacitated for three straight days if you don’t take your drugs.”

“If we don’t get out of here, you’ll be just as screwed as I am,” I snap. “Stuck in a room with me? You won’t have a chance. We’re both going to become brainless fuck machines if that happens, so… shut the hell up.”

He does, to my surprise. I do too. I wipe my greasy hands on the McDonald’s bag, then crumple it into a little ball and toss it into the corner of the room. My anger is a living thing, running through my veins like electricity, vibrating under my skin. It’s been there for so long, but I would never have dared to say that to his face before. The rest of our situation is so absurd, so dire, it feels like there are no consequences for mouthing off at him.

That’s dumb, of course. There are always consequences. But at least they won’t be coming anytime soon.

“‘Brainless fuck machines,’” Cardan whispers quietly, and then he snickers.

“You—shut up,” I say, feeling unlikely mirth bubbling at the corners of my mouth. Cardan lets out another huff of laughter, and then I am giggling, and he’s laughing outright, clutching at his stomach. It’s ridiculous, all of my nerves coming out like that, but he’s laughing and it feels like there’s nothing for me to do but laugh too.

“Oh, man,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I’m serious!” I squeal, my abs cramping from laughing and trying not to laugh harder all at once. “That’s what happens!”

“God.” Cardan lets his head fall softly into the corner. “We are so screwed.” He points one finger up in the air. “Metaphorically. So far.”

“Jesus.” I cover my face with both of my hands. “Jesus.”

“Jesus was an alpha.”

I peek at him through my fingers. “He was not. He literally said ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega.’”

“I’m just fucking with you.” Cardan grins, his hair flopping in his face, but then his cheer vanishes abruptly. “Wait, you’re not actually religious, are you?”

I shake my head. “Not really.” But I still know that common theology holds that Jesus—and angels, and any other holy beings I don’t know about—are not alphas or omegas, but they aren’t betas, either. They are all things and nothing. Must be a good life. I pull my hands down and squint at him. “Were you worried about offending me?”

“Me?” Cardan shakes his head to toss his hair out of his face. “Nah.”

“Well, good.” I cross my arms again. “Because you’ve never cared before, and it’d really freak me out if you started now. Then I’d know we were both losing it for real.”

“I just thought…” He shrugs. “I mean, it’d be nice if one of us believed in something. That praying could help. I’d like to believe that. Seems tidy.”

“Yeah.” I let my cheek fall against the cold wall, too, and blink away the memories of screaming at the night sky, demanding someone give me my parents back. I can’t fall into that pit. I will not.

I just say, “I stopped believing that anyone was listening a long time ago.”

Cardan scratches at the wall with his finger. “Me too, Duarte,” he said. “Me too.”

Next

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #244: "AND THE ROCKET'S RED GLARE!"

June, 1984

The Wraiths walk among us!

Actually, the Dire Wraiths would be a good answer for what the imposters in Among Us are. They're imposters, they can shapeshift, and they have deadly tongues.

I think I've cracked this case wide open.

Anyway, we go straight from Secret Wars into another event, although this is a crossover called Wraith War and mostly a story arc in the ROM book but with tie-ins to Avengers, X-Men, and Fantastic Four. In fairness, we were told the Avengers would be getting involved with the Dire Wraiths before Secret Wars went on sale.

That's the life of a superhero. One day, getting raptured to a toy commercial and the next, fighting alien shapeshifters who aren't Skrulls or Space Phantoms.

Last time: half the Avengers were involved in the Secret Wars, the other Avengers hung around and had small adventures. Then the first half of the Avengers returned. And Wasp quit as chairperson so Vision could take over with his big plans like establishing a second Avengers team.

This time: a nice boat.

The nice boat is chilling on the Banana River outside the John F. Kennedy Space Center when a ball of light swoops down on it.

But with Captain Marvel on the Avengers, sometimes a ball of light is her and not the Beyonder bodyjacking people.

Monica returns from patrol to report no suspicious activity at the space center and also to compliment this sweet boat.

Remember how she was in the market for a boat as part of whatever new job she’s cooking up for when she’s not Avengersing.

Well, this is Wasp’s yacht and it’s real nice.

Vision pops up through the deck to tell the two to join everyone else below for a strategy sesh.

It’s kind of a casual strategy session. Half the Avengers are dressed down.

Wasp is in a bathing suit with a neckerchief around her neck. Wanda took off the body stocking part of her costume so looks like she’s wearing a swimsuit despite the boots. And Starfox decides when in Rome and takes his shirt off.

Wasp isn’t even chairperson anymore and she’s still telling some men to undress and this time its Steve Rogers. She only gets him to take off the civilian clothes that he’s wearing above his costume though.

And only as a concession to the heat. They’re in FLORIDA and he’s dressed in layers. I live in Florida and sometimes one layer is too many layers.

Also, Steve America muses on how they were only back from Secret Wars a few hours when Wasp stepped down as chairperson in favor of Vision but he describes Secret Wars as “our confrontation with that... that Beyonder” which is technically accurate but not really how I would describe Secret Wars.

But that’s the hazard of writing about something in the past that hasn’t come out yet. Can’t really have Steve say “that confrontation with the most recent time Doom swallowed an energy field bigger than his head” because that would spoil the game and also maybe that plot point didn’t exist yet. Although the seeds are there from the start.

I would have just had Steve say “back from that Secret War TM” or “back from being kidnapped by the Beyonder.” Go with what’s clear and obvious from issue 1.

New Chairman The Vision summarizes the plot.

New Chairman The Vision: “All right, Avengers... just as a review, we’ll be meeting at the cape with General Bridges within the hour to discuss a number of supposed accidents... Accidents which Washington suspects may be sabotage caused by alien creatures known as Dire Wraiths. The government has managed to suppress information of most wraith activities -- but the space center is too much in the public eye. Eventually, word will leak out. We must do something!”

Captain America: “You’re right on that count, Vision! If an alien life-form attacked the space-center, there could be worldwide panic!”

And as soon as he says this, there’s an explosion on the test-pad.

Talk about timing!

The Avengers leap immediately into action!

Wasp just heads into action in her swimsuit because its not the first time she’s had an adventure in her swimsuit. Her powers are entirely internalized by this point. But its impressive for Wanda because she puts the bodysuit part of her outfit back on without seemingly taking off the leotard part.

Chaos magic? Chaos magic.

Also, they leave Wanda to anchor the yacht and then follow in a skiff so its not like she needed to get dressed magically between panels. She just decided to.

When the Avengers arrive there’s a massive cloud of smoke covering the launchpad and they spot some men dashing into the smoke instead of away from it.

Captain Marvel returns from scouting and mentions that the damage is confined to the test-pad gantries and that there’s not all that much damage.

But then there’s a loud KROOM second explosion which takes down the main supports. The rocket booster on the test-pad starts tipping over so Starfox, Captain Marvel, and Vision rush to try to stop it.

One of the attackers, the Rocketeers, says a few more mini missiles will take the launch-pad out of commission but exposition isn’t a free action and he gets WHUNK’d by Captain America’s mighty shield.

And if that weren’t enough to make him yield, Wasp shoots him in the nipple.

Wasp: “Let’s have no complaints out of you! I can make my Wasp-stings a lot nastier than that!”

Yeah, that guy is lucky she didn’t use one of her patented ‘can blow up a small house’ Wasp-stings. His nipple would never have been the same.

Vision and Starfox catch the rocket booster before it smashes into the ground but Captain Marvel zips around it and spots major fuel leaks.

Since it’s going to explode even if they gently set it down, the two huck it into the Atlantic.

Then the three start lifting rubble and rescuing those injured from any of the mini-missile explosions.

Over at Cap(tain America) and Wasp, they’ve beaten up all the Rocketeers but one. Good job you two! By some accounts the two least powerful among the Avengers present and yet you’ve kicked some ass.

The Last Rocketeer: “You may have stopped my buddies, but you won’t stop me!”

Wasp: “Oh, brother! If you only knew how many times we’ve heard those words -- !”

Captain America: “Don’t embarrass the man, Wasp! He’s in enough trouble as it is!”

Wow, if its not enough that they’ve beaten up all his friends and are about to beat him up, they just burned him so bad that I don’t know if he’ll survive.

The guy throws a lawn dart bomb at Cap and the Wasp. Cap tells Wasp to get behind his shield but the bomblet sharply veers up with a ninety degree turn.

Wow, how improbable!

If you guessed that Wanda showed up after parking the yacht, you guessed right.

And then Wasp shoots the Last Rocketeer in the eyes. His goggles did nothing.

Even though the Rocketeers were wrapped up pretty easily, Vision suggests that they had help since they knew exactly when and where to strike.

But a Dire Wraith shaped silhouette watching this fight from afar reflects that the Avengers are skilled and decides to unleash THE MISTS OF THE DARK NEBULA.

Which is a thick fog. But wait! There’s more! The fog is like a mind-numbing gas and makes the Avengers slow to respond, even Vision who only breathes out of social obligation. And it rouses the Rocketeers who escape into the fog.

Vision follows after them, less affected than the others, but he gets bowled over by the Rocketeers taking off with their rocket packs which presumably given them their names.

As soon as the Rocketeers escape, the fog conveniently disperses.

The Avengers go around making sure they’re all alright but when Cap(tain America) asks Vision, he claims that he is a lot more resilient than “an organic man” and tells Cap not to waste concern on him when there are injured people to be helped.

Wasp, in her thoughts: “Sounds like the only thing wounded was his pride!”

While the Avengers carry injured people to arrived ambulances, Vision castigates himself for the failure.

Vision: “We failed! My first official battle as Avengers leader, and the enemy got away! I suppose I should find solace in the knowledge that the sabotage was cut short and lives were saved... but I cannot!”

“I must not allow myself to be satisfied by anything less than total victory... Not if my long-range plans are to succeed! The Avengers must ferret out the power behind the Rocketeers and bring it down! The trust of the world could depend on it!”

That’s a completely non-ominous thing to think, Vizh.

Also, maybe you could help?

Meanwhile, over at Los Angeles International Airport, Hawkeye and Mockingbird arrive traveling as a perfectly normal couple. Hawkeye wanted to bring his arrows on as carry-on but yeah. Hard to explain that to the TSA.

... Wait, did the Avengers not have a spare Quinjet to send Hawkeye in?

Anyway, Bill Foster meets them at the airport. He’s local to LA and has been checking out some real estate leads for the West Coast Avengers base.

WEST COAST AVENGERS!

It continues to be approaching.

Are we going to get Bill Foster on the team? We haven’t seen him in Avengers for what feels like ever.

But enough of West Coast Avengers, there’s more Dire Wraiths plot to do.

Back at the Cape of Canaveral, General Bridges introduces the Avengers to the very high-strung Dr. Woodrow Cather, the highest ranking civilian scientist.

Cather flips out on seeing the Avengers and asks why they’re here. I guess nobody debrief him on all the explosions.

General Bridges has a slideshow for just this instance and activates a projector to show everyone a Dire Wraith.

The ROM Space Knight and Dire Wraiths plot has been going on for about fifty issues in ROM’s own book by this point so there’s some amount of exposition that just shotgunned in one page.

The Dire Wraiths are an offshoot of the Skrulls, apparently. Except instead of just shapeshifting they have a more predatory method of camouflage. They attack a victim with a drill-like tongue, eat their brains, and assume their forms while the original person is reduced to ashes.

At least, that’s how female Dire Wraiths work.

The Dire Wraiths are like the Badoon in having some truly wild sexual dimorphism and a high degree of hostility between the sexes. The female Dire Wraiths prefer sorcery and the males SCIENCE. Except there was a war of the sexes over differences in their plans for conquering Earth and the women Wraiths won and became the dominant Wraiths.

The Rocketeers that attacked the launchpad today are similar to a group of male SCIENCE Wraiths who also called themselves Rocketeers and attacked Clairton, West Virginia.

So Vision suspects that a group of male Wraiths survived the war of the sexes and are up to Something.

General Bridges isn’t really concerned with the nuances of who and how people are attacking the launch site. He just wants it all to stop.

Dr. Cather is leading the ion-drive project and its already in trouble because most funds have been diverted to the space shuttle program.

General Bridges doesn’t think the ion drive is a target, OR worth attacking (ouch), because none of the sabotage has struck it yet. Bridges thinks the Space Shuttle should get priority attention and decides he’ll call a full battalion to help the Avengers guard it.

Vision disagrees.

He pulls rank and forbids calling in any backup.

Captain America: “You’ll have to excuse us, gentlemen! Our chairman... has plans of his own!”

I BET HE DOES!

Meanwhile, continuing the Quicksilver subplot, it’s Quicksilver.

He Lockjaws down to Transia, Earth to go recruit Bova to be nursemaid for his baby but to his startlement he finds that her cabin has been destroyed.

Big mystery for Quicksilver but followers of this going-slightly-above-and-beyond liveblog will know that Magneto trashed it while interrogating Bova for information about his children.

Wanda and Pietro already rejected Magneto as their dad for being a jerk plus the jerky way he’s treated them. I imagine learning he terrorized a poor cow woman won’t soften their hearts to him.

Anyway, back to the Dire Wraiths plot.

The Rocketeer Dire Wraiths are sitting around and complaining about how the Avengers kicked their butts and they didn’t know humans could be so strong. But what they’re really concerned about is the Dark Nebula Mist.

That’s clearly the sign of the Dire Wraith sisterhood but why would they help the science Wraiths if not some weird mind game to flush them out.

One of the Rocketeers declares that the sisterhood’s intervention gives them a chance to complete their work. Sure, overt sabotage will be hard with the Avengers hanging around like they don’t have anything better to do. And sure, they’ll set up detection equipment. But the Avengers won’t suspect that the Rocketeers will have jamming watches that’ll let them avoid detection.

That’s why Science Wraithing is so rad.

The next morning, the Avengers are spread out throughout the Space Center.

Captain Marvel is standing sentry on top of the vehicle assembly building. Starfox is at launch complex 39A thinking patronizing thoughts about the Space Shuttle.

Starfox: “They call this a space ship? Charming.”

And Wasp watches over the ion-drive rocket.

Meanwhile, Vision, Captain America, and Scarlet Witch are in the security command post watching the cameras with the special detection systems.

If I remember Linkara’s Romtrospective, the special detection systems are probably based on Rom’s Analyzer, which he let SHIELD examine.

Anyway, Scarlet Witch switches to a random monitor to demonstrate that so far so good, pointing at monitor three and its entirely unsuspicious group of technicians.

Vision: “No problem?!? There’s a very big problem!! Can’t you see?!”

Turns out that Vision has better vision, hah, than a human. And with his special eyes he sees that those four technicians are NOT WHAT THEY SEEM.

He immediately grabs the microphone to the PA and announces DANGEROUS INTRUDERS and for everyone to evacuate the area immediately.

The four intruders make a mad dash to the ion-drive ship but Starfox does them a drive by punching.

Starfox: “Good morning, gentlemen! Since you aren’t evacuating the premises, might I assume that you’re our intruders? Hmmm?”

I’ll reveal a cursed secret. If it weren’t for Starfox’s special pleasure beam powers, I wouldn’t have a problem with him. He can be pretty fun sometimes.

Captain Marvel also zips over in light form and then re-assumes her meat form.

One of the Dire Wraiths: “Strike while she is helpless in her corporeal form!”

Captain Marvel: “Helpless?”

Never assume Captain Monica Marvel is helpless just because she’s made of meat. She was a boat cop, dammit.

Its a well known fact that all boat cops that get superpowers and join the Avengers, know how to flip a jerk.

Anyway, Dr. Woodrow Cather, the highest ranking civilian scientist, also runs towards the ion-drive rocket despite the evacuation order.

Dr. Woodrow Cather, the highest ranking civilian scientist: No need to worry soldier! I won’t be long at all... Once I’ve cut my ship off from ground control! I’m glad I returned to the test bunker last night. Otherwise, I might have been found like that the others! Their sabotage missions brought them to a bad end, just as I’d hoped! Now, their capture should be all the diversion I need -- to get away scot free!

Gasp! Dr. Woodrow Cather, the guy who was alarmed to see the Avengers involved is one of the Dire Wraiths and he’s dicking over his alien invader associates!

Is there no honor among alien invaders?

Scarlet Witch and Cap(tain America) arrive in Jeep to where Starfox and Cap(tain Marvel) are kicking the Dire Wraith ass. Scarlet Witch uses her do-anything powers to force the Dire Wraiths to assume their natural lumpy orange forms.

But then Dr. Woodrow Cather blasts off in the ion-drive rocket, luckily managing not to either blind nor burn to death anyone on the ground.

Captain Marvel zips after the rocket because speed of rocket is still way slower than the speed of light.

God, I love Monica’s powers.

The Dire Wraiths start bemoaning how they’ve been abandoned and betrayed but worse than that DOOOOOOOMED.

Cap(tain America) is like ‘come again?’

The Dire Wraiths explain that the ion-drive is actually a secret star-drive, that they cobbled together using whatever ‘backward technology’ they could get and sometimes just steal from other projects (I guess thats what the sabotage was? Covering the thefts?). But uh the red glow from the not-ion-drive exhaust is a bad sign.

It means that the engine is unstable and could explode like an anti-matter bomb at any time.

And to complete the hat trick of ‘rocket stolen’ and ‘rocket gonna explode and destroy a chunk of Earth’, Wasp was watching the rocket and is now trapped inside the command module, squashed against the bulkhead from the acceleration.

THE WORLD IS IN DANGER BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, THE WASP IS!

DAMN YOU DR. WOODROW CATHER, IF THATS YOUR REAL NAME!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because we like Wasp here. Wasp should be in more stuff in modern comics. Like and reblog as well but only if you think that the post is likeable and slash or rebloggable.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part three

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

                  Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday!

            Come together

She was so late. Sarah knew she needed the rest, her body and mind both fatigued under the stress of simply being who she is. Of having to constantly be alert for threats to her identity and her life. And so, she’d taken what was meant to be a short nap, an energy boost so she could power through the rest of the evening.

She slept through the alarm. What ultimately woke her up was that prickling sensation one feels when subconsciously realizing they’re resting for too long. Feeling this pinprick at the back of her brain, she slowly opened one eye and then the other. Rolling onto her back, she exhaled loudly before swinging herself up and out of the bed. It’s then that she noticed the time. Immediately, she shot into her closet tossing random sets of outfits onto her bed. She took a quick shower and applied little to no makeup, reminding herself that a natural look is always best. Finally, she returned to her bedroom and made an impulsive decision on what to wear. She’d usually take an ungodly long time to choose an outfit, but she had about ten minutes to walk out the door.

As she spun in the mirror, she suddenly stopped and looked at herself intently. While being satisfied with her unruly curls and soft makeup, she could see the tension in her shoulders, the dread in her eyes. And although she loved musicals and shows, she couldn’t help but want to curl up in her bed instead. And it wasn’t because she was tired.

No, it was fear that sat heavy in her stomach, rooting her to her spot. The ticket to the show had been left for her by the mysterious B.N.

At first, her worry and confusion had been softened by Martha’s idea of a secret admirer, a timid co-worker who was working up the courage to ask her out. But as the weeks went by, Sarah was less convinced. Somebody was watching her, knew her routine, her likes and dislikes. Someone knew where she lived. At work, she was increasingly jumpy and afraid of every corner. Did Vought figure it out? Were they baiting her, waiting for the opportunity to eliminate her and the threat she posed?

It would be the perfect cover-up: a young woman is followed by a stalker, a fact that many other people already knew from the flowers delivered to her office each week. When he finally confronts her, she rejects him, angering him to the point where she’s murdered. This could explain her body being found in some alleyway, or even her disappearance.

Was this ticket going to deliver her to her maker? Would it take her straight to her death? The theater was such a public place, utterly packed with people both inside and outside. But so much could happen on the way there and back.

Realizing she’d begun to shake, she stilled herself and thought of Mallory. She’d been taught better than this. The older woman would probably scoff at her for walking into such an obvious trap, but she couldn’t run from it either. If it was Vought, they’d been toying with her long enough. She’d be careful, alert. Finally, she gathered her coat and purse and walked out.

“Hey, honey,” a voice spoke up from the sidewalk. She froze in the middle of locking the door. Maintaining her grip on its handle, she was unsure on how the next few minutes would unfold, how she would handle the unpredictability of the man standing behind her. But she felt the imperceptible change in her stance as her mind sharpened. She was taught many things, but taking shit isn’t one of them.

“What do you want?” she bit out, turning to face the man she’d never wanted to see again.

“Come on, babe,” he trailed off with a laugh, “it’s been almost a year-- I wanted to see you, maybe y’know, talk. God knows it’s time”

“I want you to leave,” she stared him down. “Now,” she added.

He moved fast up her porch steps, and she was quick to slip the key back in to open the door. She’d stuck one foot into the house when he stopped her, grabbing onto her wrist. He squeezed tight, the frazzled woman containing a wince.

“You need to stop before I hurt you. We’re over, Jason. Over.”

“Come on, you needed a break, and I gave you one.” He inched closer and whispered, an intense look in his eyes, “It may take time, but it always boils down to me and you together.”

She kicked him hard, "It's you and I, you illiterate ass."

He lazily let go, allowing her to back into the house. Before she could slam the door, he’d stuck his foot in. The woman pressed onto the hardwood with all her weight, but there was no stopping his breach. He stood menacing in the entrance, but she didn’t inch back.

Something clicked in her, like a mounting fury. The vase of pretty lilies sitting idly by the entrance. The floral pin in her hair. The ticket. The earrings. She grabbed the vase and threw the water in his face, letting the flowers fall off to the side.

“You,” with a snarl she pointed at him. “How dare you try to weasel your way back into my life! Have you been following me because I swear.”

She snatched the pin out of her hair, letting curls fly in front of her face. The pin quickly followed the water in a general trajectory towards him. Although her aim left much to be desired, she hoped it stabbed him in the eye. She tensed, ready for a fight. Her fingers twitched, and she wished she had a gun to curl them around.

Jason made a move to say something when a sudden force pulled him through the entrance, sending him flying back.

One moment he was there, and the next he'd vanished.

She stopped moving, stopped breathing. But not a moment later, curiosity had her moving towards the porch with tentative steps. A dark shadow stood tall over Jason’s crumpled body on the sidewalk. Dressed in a black armored suit, the figure was heaving deeply. Its strict posture seemed to be shaken by erratic breathing, like an animal's. A long knife’s sharp edge glinted under the moonlight, and she realized what was about to happen.

She threw herself forward, “No, no, don’t.”

Jason’s features were bloody, but his eyes were open, and he was breathing. His arm was folded at an awkward angle under him. The tall, masked figure tensed, and turned around completely, stiffly, until he was fully facing her.

The blood drained from her face. “Black Noir.”

It wasn’t clear whether her words were meant as a statement or a question, but he replied with a slow nod.

His breathing had gone quiet and steady. His eyes were hidden behind the heavy black goggles he wore, but she could’ve sworn he gave her a calculating look. As if he were measuring the weight of her words. He looked down at the crumpled figure, and then slowly back at her. She realized it was a silent question. Was he asking for permission? She hated Jason. He was a terrible person, and it’d taken her time to shake his influence from her life. He was ungrateful and a coward and a mistake.

Now, on the ground he was choking on tears. While he mouthed ‘please’ in her general direction, clasping his hands together, she almost wished she hadn’t intervened. That Black Noir had hurt him. Though his gaze was concealed, she could read anger in his stance. She thought he looked like a modern fury in the night, and she was sure this must be the scariest moment in Jason’s life. As Black Noir waited for her word, she realized that in one silent look, one silent gesture, he’d made her judge, and he her executioner. Looking down at her ex boyfriend’s form, she steeled herself against her heart’s instinct. After those years of suffering, it only wanted to hurt the man on the ground. The tall man standing over him watched her, trying to read the conflict in her eyes. But she was no judge. And she would not make him her executioner, no matter how willing.

Steadying her voice, she spoke softly. “Let him go, it’s not worth it.”

They stood there for a few minutes, as Black Noir processed her words. The urge to finish the filth laid out on the sidewalk was strong, and he had to steel himself against it. He didn’t want to get carried away in front of her, have her witness the monster inside. And if he disobeyed her request, would he alienate her forever? Would she hate him, be disgusted by him?

Finally, he shot down and grabbed onto the other man’s shirt, tugging him upwards. He brought his face up to his mask, reveling in the way the smaller man trembled with fear. He let him go and moved away, taking a protective stance in front of the young woman he’d sworn to protect.

Jason scrambled to his feet and caught a glimpse of his ex behind the shadow who’d come to stand in front of her. Black Noir shifted to hide her from view, but she still saw the disbelief printed onto his features, the wild look of fear in his eyes. He moved backwards, crossing over to the other side of the street. Looking over his shoulder, he sped away, holding onto his side.

Black Noir watched him go, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He centered himself and decided to file the man as unfinished business.

Peering around him, she watched her ex disappear at the corner down the street.

Looking up at the dark shadow standing with his back to her, she stood in slight disbelief herself. She couldn’t help the shock still coursing through her veins. Seeing Jason after a year. Learning that he’d been stalking her for some time. Black Noir appearing. Asking him to spare the life of a man she loathes.

And now that she was alone with what she knew to be Vought’s personal hit-man, was this it?

He moved towards her slowly, and she took equally large steps back. Should she run, slam the door? It’d be useless, she didn’t stand a chance. Years ago, she might have been able to make a stand. Not now, not anymore.

They were in the house and he raised his hands. It confused Sarah. She expected him to finish her off quickly. The potential cover-up would hold: her abusive ex-boyfriend shows up, and as she rejects him things get out of hand. He gets violent and she ends up with her head bashed into a wall or a vase crashed into her skull. She knew what Black Noir was capable of. He’d have to control his strength to make it look like a human had murdered her.

She stood frozen and couldn’t seem to bring her heartbeat to an acceptable rate. She knew he could hear it, and she wondered if he was getting off on her fear. What he did next took her completely by surprise. Black Noir leaned down and began to gather the scattered lilies at her entrance. He picked the fallen flowers up by their long stems, placing them back into their vase.

He could feel her heart beating wildly, like that of a scared rabbit. He focused on the flowers he’d chosen for her, thinking of a way to calm her down. Was she still panicking after the attack, or was she simply afraid of him? She’d seemed fine with him when he’d crossed her in the lost-and-found.

When his thoughts returned to the other man’s appearance, his blood rushed in an unpleasant way. It was the surge of wild energy that coursed through him before a hunt.

He moved towards her, with long, smooth steps. He raised both hands, one steadying her head, the other holding a shimmering piece of metal. Immediately, she flinched, and her breath grew faster. This was it. The fight in her immediately reared its head, and she gathered all her strength to push against him, her hands curled into fists. He tensed and took a step back, exhaling loudly. It disturbed him that she could think he would hurt her. If only she knew to what extents he'd go to protect her. He showed her the piece in his hand: it was the beautiful pin of flowers. They glinted under the light in different shades of blue.

She stammered, “I thought--” He could still kill her with the pin, she reminded herself. All he had to do was jab it hard into her neck, and she was a goner. She breathed in deeply, “Why? Why are you here?”

When Black Noir just looked on, she grew uneasy and began to squirm.

She steadied her voice and squared her shoulders. “You need to leave.”

He looked on and slowly nodded. He wanted to claw at his face, at the terrible being he’d become. She feared him, entirely closed off and ready to run away. He gently lifted the pin to hand it to her.

She shook her head, “You can take it. I don’t want anything of his.”

The big man let his hands drop to his sides and took a step back. He tilted his head to the side. If she could’ve guessed, she would’ve thought he was dejected, disappointed even. He held out a firm hand. She shook her head. He insisted. With hesitation she took it, and he held her fingers delicately, like they were made of thin glass. The gloves were rough against her skin. Her mind wandered to how many men he’d killed or beat senseless. Jason had gotten lucky that night.

Black Noir led her in front of the mirror. She slipped a small dagger out of the hidden pocket she’d sewn into her dress. From behind, he ran his fingers over her hair, slipping the pin into place. She stood tense, not understanding the meaning of his actions. He knew she’d pulled a knife out, keeping it flat against the palm of her hand and out of view. The gesture intrigued him. He tilted his head slightly and wondered how much he still had to learn about Sarah Burns. He stepped away towards the door.

She was utterly confused by his gesture. It felt meaningful, but she couldn’t decipher it. Was he truly just going to leave? He had helped her with Jason, would have killed him even. He’d picked her flowers up off the floor. He’d gently thread the pin back into her unruly locks of hair. “What is going on?”

She whirled around, just as her voice compelled him to face her. She was already confused, and the night had raised her sense of fight or flight. She gripped the small knife tighter.

He didn’t want to add onto the tension he could read in her eyes. He was a shadow who would watch over her from afar, a shadow that should not taint her light. He felt something towards himself he’d never felt before: disgust. Disgust for the being he’d let himself become, or better yet disgust towards the way he’d succumbed to other’s visions of him. He’d been built into something further down the line from evil. Something deeper, something more focused and dangerous. And the issue was he liked it, he let it consume him and run free because he'd come to enjoy it. He felt empowered by it.

In her entrance, standing both inside and outside, he stood conflicted.

“Why?”

Disgust for himself and his inability to answer her simple question surged through him. And yet, he felt rooted to his spot, incapable of leaving. He slowly reached into a side pocket on his chest and extracted a petite, black box. Hanging on its side, was a familiar clean, white tag. The gift was small in his gloved hand, and he handled it with care as he placed it on the cabinet.

She looked at him, the flowers and the box.

She moved her fingers through her hair, careful around the pin she didn’t want to dislodge. Black Noir watched her in silence. In her dress and light makeup, her mascara slightly smudged under the eyes, he just wanted to take her in his arms and disappear. Her eyes were fixed on him as if she were looking into his soul. He looked away. He was a being both brutal and dark: his soul was too dark of a place for her.

“Black Noir. You’re B.N.”

Once he gazed back into her eyes, he found himself unable to look away. Suddenly flushed, and watching him with bated breath, she waited for a reaction.

The man in question thought he should just disappear into the night. It could all end there. He’d find a way to be content with watching over her from afar. Occasional gifts would remind her of him, should she continue to accept them. He’d never be able to stay away, but he could erase himself from her life. One of his greatest abilities was staying invisible, sticking to the shadows.

And yet, he wanted to be worthy of her attention, and he wanted her to want him close.

He nodded and stood straighter if that was even possible.

He could feel the woman’s heart rate speed up again, as she processed the new information. After a moment of speechlessness, she walked towards him. Coming to a stop only a few steps away, they simply looked at each other.

“Are you here to hurt me?”

Even with his military grade eye-ware she could sense the intensity of his gaze on her, reading her every move and gesture. He shook his head no.

He could be lying. He was a spy, sleek and dangerous. He never spoke, and she was sure that he was a professional observer. She was certain he knew how to read people, because that's what he does every day of his life. He never interacts; he observes and takes orders. Was he simply trying to get her attention? Was his following her unrelated to Vought? It shouldn’t, but this somewhat filled her with relief. She might just have a normal stalker, not a hit-man sent to kill her by the organization she was planning to tear to the ground.

Or was he here for information? Maybe they weren’t so sure about her involvement and had sent him to assess the situation.

But this could go both ways. She’d feed him false information, and maybe she would be able to extract information from him. She severely doubted this but giving him the information she wanted to give would allow her to control Vought’s research on her.

Still somewhat confused and flustered, she kept eye contact with him. This would be a dangerous game of cat and mouse, where the cat is a man who could snap her neck in a split second.

She offered him something they probably both needed. “Let me get us a glass of wine and we can talk.”

PART 4  PART 5

Giulia

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy XV Review

Year: 2016

Original Platform: PlayStation 4

Also available on: PC (Steam), XBox One

Version I Played: PlayStation 4

Here we go. The final Final Fantasy review of the main single-player games. I just want to say, first off, we’ve been waiting for this game since 2006. It took them ten damn years to finally release this game. I clearly remember the teaser trailer they released when it was called Final Fantasy XIII Versus, and my next-door neighbor and I were so hyped for this game when we were freaking teenagers. After years of delays, Square Enix revamped it into Final Fantasy XV.

Did it live up to the wait? Well, read and find out.

Synopsis:

Noctis Lucis Caelum is the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Lucis. On his birthday, he sets off with his three best friends and bodyguards (Ignis, Prompto, Gladio) to marry his betrothed, Lunafreya. The marriage is supposed to be a political one, though Noct and Lunafreya had grown up together and become fond of each other. But peace turns to war as the empire of Niflheim betrays Insomnia and invades. Noct, now on the run, has to reclaim his right to the throne by collecting the necessary family heirlooms which will banish the darkness.  

Gameplay:

Open-world Final Fantasy.

That is the big selling point for this game. 

A MASSIVE step up from Final Fantasy XIII’s gameplay, Final Fantasy XV has you roaming around and attacking enemies on the field in real time. The battle system returns to something slightly more conventional by having you cast spells and use items. It seems like this is what Square really intended to do after Final Fantasy XII. Looking back, Final Fantasy XIII feels like some prototype before Final Fantasy XII, so it really becomes apparent that Final Fantasy XIII’s gameplay comes off as a huge mistake.

This game’s major’s strength comes from the player engaging with a massive world. You camp. You take on hunts. You take on a bajillion sidequests. You run across the world. You drive across the world. You can ride a chocobo across the world.

However, the dip in the gameplay comes from how easily accessible these sidequests are. The map tells you exactly where you go 24/7. I started to have an existential crisis around my 50th sidequest in a row. Why am I doing this? What’s the point? I go here to kill a thing, or go there to help someone by giving a potion or taking a picture. You start to realize that a good bulk of sidequests are either hunting daemons or fetching an item. You start to deconstruct the meaning of playing a video game as you think to yourself, “Why do I play video games?” while also thinking “But wait, one more and then I swear I’m done.”.

I get it, not everyone has the time nowadays to figure out a huge game like this. I get it, video games are now marketed to everyone for ease. At the same time, I personally love a good challenge. I mean, I’m the guy who has Dark Souls as one of his favorite video games of all time, so my opinion on the matter might definitely be skewered compared to most. I generally want to feel like I actually figured something out by myself rather than following a tracker on the screen and walking from task to task and then saying, “Okay done. Next.”.

Too much of that and playing a video game starts to feel like a 9 to 5 job to me. This game is great to play during quarantine, but at one point I saw playing this game as feeling like an actual job. Wake up, eat breakfast, time to hunt some daemons.

This is the growing conflict some people have with story-driven games versus open-world games. I see the argument focused too much on words like “linear”, but in reality we should be talking about “automation”. If a video game is too automated, then did you really play a video game? Or did you watch a movie that allows you to control the camera angle? At first, the idea of driving around an open-world Final Fantasy game sounds amazing. Isn’t that what fans always dreamed of? In reality, you don’t really drive around at your leisure. Even when you have the car set to “manual”, you can’t speed up, drive off-road, or pull off a sick drift like in The Fast and the Furious. Your car still automatically stays on the road wherever you’re going. It’s not so much “manual” as it is “I can control where and when to stop and which road to take”. Riding chocobos at your leisure is much more fun, but becomes increasingly impractical as you can just fast-travel to necessary locations in your car.

The sights and sounds of the fictional world of Eos are enough to gloss over these shortcomings though. It IS still fun to roam around and fight monsters and save the day. My bottom line is, “You don’t think about just how mindless the tasks are unless you keep playing for many days straight.”. And I poured hours into this game day after day because of the 2020 pandemic quarantine.

Graphics:

Obviously the best thus far. However, in-game facial expressions on the NPCs are still quite stilted and awkward. This game made me realize that we’ve yet to jump a hurdle when it comes to in-game graphics. The game is so polished but there are still limitations when it comes to giving the characters natural movements, both in body and lips. So an NPC could be shouting “WOW THAT’S AMAZING!” but have a straight face jumping up and down, despite the fact that the character model is the most realistic we’ve created so far in a video game. I was looking back at in-game cutscenes of Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, and found it ironic that they can portray body movements so much better, but that’s the trade-off. Less graphics power to portray realistic bodies, but the graphics power can then be allocated to focus on natural movements. Nowadays, all the graphics power is focused on making things look good, but that hardly leaves room for making things move naturally.

Story:

After the overly-complicated plotline of Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XV feels like a breath of fresh air. On the surface, it’s a straightforward tale of a boy seeking to become a king after his father is brutally murdered by enemy forces. The bromance between the young king and his bodyguards is endearing. Each character feels distinct and genuinely makes you laugh. The setup sounds like prime real estate for an emotionally charged storyline.

Unfortunately, it falls apart somewhere around the last quarter. What should have been a strong and straightforward story turned into a rushed, hasty mess by the final act.

The story started SO strong, they practically had it in the bag, but then it became apparent that many important elements were glossed over - especially when it came to the main villain. I realized that some things required me to read between the lines, or even were only explained in character dossiers in the archive section of the menu. Supposedly, the movie Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV explains more, but do you really expect me to have to watch a separate movie to understand the actual game? The final quarter of the story feels like someone was trying to finish NaNoWriMo, realized they were running out of time, and quickly jumped from scene to scene to reach that 50k word goal. The ten-year time-skip is a joke. The final chapter is sorely disappointing.

The ending was appropriate though, and even beautiful. However, the overall story didn’t have the necessary emotional weight to really make me feel anything. I thought to myself, “I feel like I should be tearing up but instead I feel nothing.”. Even Final Fantasy XII, which lacked a romance, had me swelling up at the end. Final Fantasy XV didn’t make me swell up until literally the last few seconds of the post-credits scene.

People complained about the advertising (Coleman, Cup Noodles) but that didn’t bother me.

What does bother me is the lack of variety in the main cast, and in numerous ways. There were so many interesting side characters that didn’t receive much screen time, or use at all in the story. The strong focus on only the four male leads made it a sausagefest. I was craving more out of Aranea Highwind and Iris Amicitia. They are important but don’t get any screen time at all in the final chapter, nor do we ever hear from them ever again after the time-skip. Aranea Highwind was such a cool character, but once again ends up being wasted potential.

The main cast lacked distinctive styles. When I first saw the main cast, I had a hard time telling them apart. They looked like a k-pop band. Compare the main cast of Final Fantasy XV to literally any other Final Fantasy main cast and you can immediately spot the difference.

The four main leads do have distinct personalities, and I quite loved hearing their comments and banter. It felt realistic, but at times it became ridiculous. I rolled my eyes when Prompto would say things like, “Hashtag sorry not sorry.” That was a bit too on the nose, and came off as Square trying to pander to the current generation.

But what really rubbed me the wrong way is the incredible lack of non-white characters in the entire game. Lestallum feels so wrong to me as a Hispanic. Lestallum is supposed to be modeled after Havana, Cuba.

Its music, its buildings, its activities. It has a tropical climate, and yet every single denizen is pale white. Every. Single. One. I am not exaggerating. It feels so absolutely wrong walking around that city and not seeing anyone with the slightest shade of brown. This isn’t some uncalled-for SJW rant, it’s a simple fact. Tropical climates breed tanner skins. My brain naturally did a double-take when seeing the all-white population, saying, “Hmmm, something’s wrong here.”. For God’s sake, Final Fantasy XII, made over a decade earlier, did a better job at displaying the various nuances in skin tones, and that was on the PlayStation 2! Final Fantasy X, even older, seemed to properly portray tropical beach populations, inspired by the Philippines, with the character Wakka.

I noticed that they really took the time to incorporate elements from virtually every single Final Fantasy game. Aside from the crystals, the modern settings, and other obvious elements, four male leads are reminiscent of Final Fantasy III, the sinister chancellor hearkens back to Kefka from Final Fantasy VI, the enemy Yojimbo resembles Final Fantasy X’s version of Yojimbo, a certain boss battle reminded me of Cid Raines from Final Fantasy XIII.

Also, there’s Dino. Quite possibly the most annoying Final Fantasy NPC ever.

The overly obnoxious Italian stereotype made me want to punch his face, and also took me out of the experience of the fictional world. Every time you spoke with him he's all like "HEY HOW YOU DOIN WELCOME TO OLIVE GARDEN YOU TALKIN TO ME BADA BING BADA BOOM SPICY PIECE OF MEATBALL CAPISCE? AMIRITE??"

Square seemed to treat this game as a milestone in the series, alluding to everything the series ever did. It’s a shame that the story itself wasn’t quite up to snuff to be held in such regard.

Music:           

The game’s major lyrical song is copyrighted, which is a first for a Final Fantasy game. It makes sense why they chose the song “Stand by Me”, both in literal and figurative terms of the story.             

The score to this game is quite fantastic. The series has its first female composer, Yoko Shimomura. I have absolutely no complaints about the music. Nobuo Uematsu didn’t even pop into my head during the entire game. It’s the first time since Uematsu’s departure that I felt immersed in the score. The motifs are distinct and strong. The battle music is vibrant and an orchestral orgasm to listen to.    

Notable Theme:            

“Somnus”  

The main theme of the game. It plays right away in the main menu. I love how it is incorporated into the rest of the score, and my brain kept wanting to hear it to its completion.   

Direct Sequel?           

Nope. However, there is downloadable content that fills in the gap of events within the game. Supposedly, Final Fantasy XV is loosely connected to Final Fantasy XIII and Final Fantasy Type-O, all sharing common themes and possibly set in the same universe. You can also watch the prequel movie, Kingsglaive: Final Fantasy XV.

Did it Live up to the Hype?           

Eh.           

Yes, and no.            

It was cool to play around, but the rest is a flaccid attempt at being a notable entry in the series “for fans and first-timers”, as the words proudly display every time you load the game. It’s not the worst in the series, but certainly not the best. It’s somewhere in the mid-to-low tier.

[caramujotan]

disco elysium text-form #thots:

i finished my first run last friday because i went stupid and played the game for nearly 24h straight. i could literally not drop it. i called it a 10/10 when i was about 2h away from finishing it, finished it and kept that score. it’s a real good game and you can stop here with my endorsement but if you want some more in-depth spoiler-free thoughts on it you can read the rest of this post. it’s big.

due to the content of the game, i talk about mental health topics, suicide, drug use and - obviously - cops 🐷

in a way calling this by numbers feels reductive (scalding hot review take, i know). a 10/10 score doesn’t reflect the awe i felt when gilding through the end-game. it doesn’t say a thing about how viscerally my body reacted to a few pixels and lines of text. it can’t tell you that i spent 2h in bed trying to sleep but couldn’t keep my brain off of it and got up at 8AM to finish it; or how much i’ve been replaying the game in my head, curious about how certain quests or events would have gone if i’d tried a different approach or character build.

i have this funky little medical condition that goes with my autism that makes it difficult for me to identify and process most emotions that i feel. but i can tell you how my body reacted. this game went into my gut. it felt like a leaded fist burrowed through my throat into the pit of my stomach and shredded my insides. it got me fucked up, is what i’m saying.

obviously i can’t go into what caused me to react like that without spoiling the shit out of this game, and since i wish i could gently lobotomize myself in order to experience it again for the first time, i heavily recommend you go through it knowing as little as possible. what i can do, however, is talk about the technical elements of it.

the art is beautiful. the art direction is top-notch and it was definitely of the things that drew me to this game first. the oil painting aesthetic is sublime - gritty and ethereal in equal parts whenever each purpose is called for. finding out that the art team was spearheaded by painting majors from russian fine-art schools made perfect sense - it shows, and the game made peak use of it. the philosophy behind their visual approach is woven into the fabric of the game itself - it’s a perfect compliment to the writing and storytelling, and i’d struggle to imagine this game without it. it permeates and elevates every environment, every interaction, every character build choice - from the character portraits, to the UI, to certain skills and game events. real art cop hours all my homies kin the art cop.

the music by british sea power is subsided and haunting and gives the game that british/european post-industrial melancholic flavor. i’m no music critic sadly. it fits the mood and it stands out beautifully in a few key scenes, but that’s as much as i can say.

the biggest turn off for me was in the voice acting. if you’re interested in playing this game i’m going to assume with 75% certainty you’re in your early 20s to 30s and are politically located to the left side of liberal at a minimum - so i’ll just come out and say it plainly: every second NPC (especially in the late game) is voiced by a leftist podcaster. i’m sure this is a plus for some, and it’s not the kind of thing you’d immediately notice anyway unless you’re a quote unquote dirtbag leftist with terminal irony poisoning twitter brainrot. most of them do competent work, but the sound mixing and general performance is weaker in comparison to the NPCs voiced by actual voice actors. 

it’s not that bad, but it’s there - and the fact that this is probably my biggest complaint about the game should say enough of my opinion on it. either way i was cringing with recognition every time it happened and it took me out on more than one occasion because i kept hearing felix chapotraphouse in one of the game’s big tense climatic scenes.

‘but caramujo!’ you say ‘this doesn’t tell me what this game is about’. hold on, i’m about to blow the ‘i can’t do literary analysis unless things are explained to me in clear cut absolute terms’ gang out of a career and spell the themes of this game out for you in detail:

it’s about loss, and renewal - both personal and interpersonal. it’s about rising from the ruins of something that’s been in motion long before you were even thought of, having little power over it, and soldiering on. it’s about heartbreak and the end of a relationship and how that can warp your mind and infect everything around you. and you won’t get better right away - the end game doesn’t wrap everything up with a little bow and lets you cause systematic upheaval. you can’t revolutionize your way out of this one. shit will, for the time being, continue to suck. 

it’s about waking up in a body that’s fucked up with a heart that aches in a world that’s been torn apart - and still making the decision to try to make it better - because you’re alive, and your heart beats, and there’s other beings in the world that are tethered to you and we all owe it to ourselves to make it better. communism hasn’t worked, baby - but so hasn’t love - and we’re not gonna give up on that. that’s what it’s all about.

it should be pretty clear right now that i did my first run as a bisexual/questioning communist feminist hobo who kinned karl marx. but i can assure you there’s other ways to play this game, and there’s more to it than that because of it. 

the quests (both side quests and a main story) are varied and had me laughing and dropping into existential despair on different occasions. other than trying to be the biggest communism builder, this game is also about:

- having a heart attack because a chair is too uncomfortable, but it’s OK because your buddy cop holds you in his arms like in the buddy cop movies. 

- doing copious amounts of drugs and turning on, tuning in and dropping out, maaaaan. 

- going on an x-files monster of the week episode to track down a curse that’s dooming the local businesses.

- shilling for the free market to come fix it all with its beatific invisible hand while standing in a town so fucked over by economic embargoes and poverty that the local union leader is a corrupt toad with a plan to revitalize the region by gathering the work force into a nationalized worker owned drug enterprise of the legal and illegal varieties - and it still comes off as one of the more levelheaded economic decisions one could make in that situation. 

- trying not to fucking kill yourself even though you have to live with that thought every single day. 

- winning the trust of a 12 year old crackhead with a deadbeat dad by becoming a positive masculine role model. 

- turning into a fascist you so can get buffs from drinking alcohol, and therefore becoming a raging alcoholic and having to walk up to important story events carrying half a liquor store in your inventory so you don’t have a mental breakdown or kill yourself from lack of morale whenever someone calls you out on your ethnonationalist bullshit.

it’s also - and i cannot stress this enough - about making sure you can find a tape to sing karaoke and make kim kitsuragi smile. it slaps. it’s real good writing.

i don’t know what else can say. pretty sure the game is on sale on steam now. anyway please play this absolute masterpiece and stan studio za/um for clear skin. ACAB.

[misssilencewritewell]

Overall review of wizards. Spoiler warning. This is just my opinion. If you enjoyed it, I’m happy for you. I think it was far too rushed.

Five episodes in we finally started to get introduced to interesting characters. But the pace never slowed down long enough to understand their role, their personalities, purpose, etc. It was a quick flash of ‘Oh that’s cool-and they’re gone...but I wanted to see more and understand...’ The quick glimpse of Angor Rot (my boy 😭) Why did he fish Morgana from the river? He hates humans...I’m confused??? He has magic. Did he learn from the evil magic squad?

The graphics are incredible. It looks amazing but I feel like for me to have a connection to this part of the story it had to have been longer. Another ten episodes of us getting to know Douxie in Arcadia would’ve been nice. When you dump as much information and new things on viewers it’s just too much for us to handle. I was so distracted by going “the heck is happening��� to ever bond with Douxie. This makes me sad because I was enamored with him in Trollhunters. Also, he went from super suave bad boy to derpy bard boy. Not necessarily bad...but personally, I enjoyed his confidence in Trollhunters. Straight up hit a gum gum with a guitar. Not a magic one...just a regular guitar. Chad move. But this...felt weird. I personally think it would’ve been a much better plot twist had he been Mordred. Would’ve given him a darker edge, a vendetta, an interesting character arc. His goal to be to avenge his mother Morgana and kill Merlin/Trollhunters. Instead we find out that he’s basically a edgy, awkward bard. Which isn’t bad but not enough character development for me to be excited about any apparent growth or newly discovered powers.

Steve Palchuk (while I love his character) was unnecessary to this plot. I would’ve preferred Eli. His brains would have been helpful and I think his comedic relief would’ve fit better than Steves. Steve’s jokes just didn’t seem to land. The comedy relief was not timed right. Again, I absolutely loved Trollhunters and 3 Below...but there was never a moment to stop and catch your breath to know the world and characters which made it difficult to enjoy.

I still don’t fully understand how magic works. Douxie taught Claire for a minute and that was it and now he’s her teacher? Morgana and Merlin walk to the other side and say that sorcery dies with them but Claire and Douxie are left. Magic is...emotion? Kinda? Idk they never explained. 🤷‍♀️

Arthur’s character was...confusing to say the least. He misses his love and hates “dark” creatures because they killed her. But he comes back from the dead...to atone for his sins...by being evil? That didn’t make sense to me. Same with Morgana coming back and him being like sup sis! Know I tried to kill you but we are blood family! His super quick switch to asking for trolls help and loving his sister again was unexplained and made 0 sense. Just make him a dislikeable character and leave it at that. Sometimes it’s better to keep things simple. Over complicated plots can be messy and unenjoyable.

Morgana going from villain to hero was expected but executed poorly. She would flip like a switch and I just couldn’t sympathize with her as much as I did when she was a villain. I enjoyed her passion while being dark. Her redemption arc could’ve been handled so much better. Her having a romantic thing with Merlin and Merlin betraying her becoming the true villain while she is thirsty for revenge would’ve been top tier world building. We got butt jokes from Steve instead.

Strickler and Nomura. I want to see them. Especially back then? Oh they would be so evil and dark and I LIVE FOR IT. Especially since we love them now. It’d be cool to be reminded of their past. Back to the Jim smelling of human without being a changeling. Could’ve seen more on that and an interaction with him. They’d be fascinated I’m sure. Morgana created changelings but that could’ve easily been explained that she was working behind Arthur’s back the whole time. Working with Gunmar and creating changelings to infiltrate the castle while pretending to be submissive in court to Arthur and Merlin. It would explain why Changelings value cunning even more so and it would’ve been more believable than her talking to Claire one time and saying “yes! I’ll just tell my bro he crazy and needs to stop! Thank you kindly foreign hand maiden with dark magic!” Like there’s no reason for Morgana to trust her. Use her...sure. She would want Claire power, but Morgana’s character was far too rushed to make sense. I miss it when she was just a villain.

Also...Jim gets stabbed by a blade and they don’t call his mom? They don’t let her know her son could be dying? She’s a doctor. She doesn’t know much about the dark Magicks but she’s so smart and Strickler is her boyfriend. She should’ve been told. She should’ve shown up. I love her character and she adds a lot to the dynamic. Steve was the focal point far too often.

Bular. (Inhaled deeply). I missed him so much. It was cool to see Gunmar and Bular again. Bular I feel could’ve been interesting to build more too and I’m grateful for what we received. He obviously was more impressionable than his father. Morgana saved him and he immediately vouched for her while touching his fathers shoulder saying softly “she spared my life.” Like...Bular is an excellent character because even when fighting Jim in his final moments, Jim talks to him about dad issues and you can see Bular think about it and ultimately decide his fate. Just...ugh yes I missed the angry tall charcoal man.

Confusing part though...Gunmar and Bular declare that forest their own. Jim and Deya are there and watch as they scare off Arthur. You’re telling me they just let them go??? When they’re trying to recruit trolls for the war? They just go welp...see ya. Nah. There should’ve been dialogue there. The strange troll that smells of human but isn’t an impure. Cue the changelings. Could’ve been an awesome Segway into the life of the gum gums because honestly...Arthur was a douche and I sided with the Gum gums. Like yeah they eat people but Arthur was so...weird and uncomfortable to watch that I’d rather see the Gum gums who make no qualms over what they want or who they are.

The...giant dragon that’s the familiars dad. No reason for him at all. An attempt at a quirky dad character that landed flat. He went from oh lemme get you a cup of tea to DONT ChALlenge Me BoY I KnOw KaRAte!!! And I was like...ummmmm excuse me??? And then he went on to give a lesson on grief and show pictures of his son and I was like Soooooo we aren’t burning Douxie to a crisp? We are just going to throw in a quick ill timed lesson on grief?

The fight between Krel, Claire and the gang vs evil Jack Frost, eye ball raven, and evil Arthur electric boogaloo. Instead of showing the fight they did a recap. That fight would’ve been so awesome to watch and instead we got a recap of them getting their booties kicked. It’s an effective time saver but lazy story telling.

The fawn earth bender woman is important because she was part of the secret magic club and decided she didn’t want to kill people anymore...or something. As if her club ever lied to her about what they were about to do. Like Oh we are killing people? I thought you were joking for millions of years.

They all need her back to do...something evil that I can’t remember which I assume the movie will be about. I want more lore on evil Jack Frost and eyeball raven. They just were like “Congrats Morgana! We are the cool super old magic squad. We are the dopest thing in this show and we won’t say anything about ourselves besides a vague description in under 3 secs that leave our viewers confused and disappointed because they want more.”

Like seriously. They were the best part. Their intro was on a flying castle and I kinda hate that their intro was Merlin yelling “Oh no! Them!” Like we are supposed to know what and who they are. Build up is so important for an aundieces understanding. Like who they are? What they want? What they are? I spent the first half of the show mostly confused and the last half moderately confused and bewildered.

In conclusion, not my fave. It lacked the charm and quirkiness of 3 below and the depth and character development of Trollhunters to deliver a mediocre segway to a film. I really want this film to do well...but they will be on a time crunch and I was not impressed with how they handled this one in ten episodes. Fingers crossed the movie does better.

[fae-fucker]

Review: Death Wind by Tara Grayce

Essie should be planning her happily ever after, not planning a war. Although they once were enemies, the humans of Escarland and the elves of Tarenhiel have allied to fight the trolls from the far north. But alliances are tricky things even in the best of times, and with Farrendel, the elves’ foremost warrior and Essie’s husband, captured by the trolls, the circumstances appear dire indeed. But Essie won’t give up, and she will make her two peoples work together to fight this war if it’s the last thing she does. One way or another, she will get Farrendel back, no matter what it takes.

Gonna be honest, didn't expect much given my lukewarm reaction to the previous two books, but this one? This one actually held my attention for genuine reasons rather than just being a light read. Because the plot involves a lot of conflict (arguably the biggest conflict possible, war), the pacing is steady, and two of the three POV characters are mostly suffering and/or being tortured, there's actually tension for once. It's a welcome change, and proves that the author is very much capable of writing it but just chooses not to in favor of boring and conflict-free family interactions.

With Melantha introduced as a POV character, we're offered a pretty buckwild concept for this series: a character that makes mistakes and has to live with the consequences. I actually found myself liking Melantha, not because I thought she was a compelling character (she wasn't) or because I felt bad for her (I didn't), but because she had what Essie didn't: flaws. There's even a point in the book where Melantha thinks about how much she dislikes Essie because Essie is so sugary perfect and everything Melantha wishes she could be, and I think it's supposed to show us how bitter and insecure Melantha is? Except she's 100% correct, Essie is literally too perfect to be a real person and I just sat there going "yeah, you're right, and don't feel bad for being shitty because literally nobody can actually be like Essie."

However, Melantha suffers from Stupid Bitch Syndrome, which doesn't exactly make for a good protagonist/POV character. She's not intended to be dumb, the book expects us to think she was simply misguided and bitter and not, like, a complete idiot who should've known better. But her instant remorse feels less like character development and more like her suddenly realizing she’s actually a huge idiot who fell for the enemy’s nonsense, which she is. She's supposed to be an older elf, a grown woman, yet she makes such an obvious mistake and immediately regrets it and folds like a wet blanket the moment shit hits the fan. It's honestly a bit pathetic. The only reason I preferred her over Essie was because she introduced some much-needed depth to the character roster, but that depth was still about the size of a teacup, compared to Farrendel's thimble and Essie's singular water molecule. Her relationship with the troll prince was actually ... interesting? It was all mostly unspoken, which I think made it stronger than the overly telegraphed thing Essie and Farrendel have going on, and I’m sure it’ll be flattened out and become boring in the next book, so enjoy this potential before it’s wasted.

Farrendel spends the entire book being tortured and thinking about how he's being tortured. I can't blame him, but it doesn't make for good reading. I honestly think his POV could've been left out altogether and it wouldn't have changed much. Melantha is already there with him letting the reader know he’s suffering, we don’t need two POVs telling us the same thing. Oh uh, except for the part where he ... puts his magic in a soul-bond pocket. I'd mark this as spoilers but it's literally on the cover. I guess if his POV was removed then we'd never know how Essie learned to blast his power in battle at that one convenient moment, but it barely affects the plot afterward so um, yeah. I'm having a hard time justifying his POV at all. I'm still not over that part btw, how Farrendel just ... makes a "mental fist" (no, really), grabs his magic in one and his soul bond with Essie in the other and just puts them together like he's connecting two cables to an adapter. And he knew to do this ... how? It's not like we've seen him experiment with his magic before, in fact he's been shown to hate it and only use it when necessary, but apparently this tortured and exhausted man has the presence of mind to try something as vague and theoretical as ... putting his magic in a soul pocket. He spends a few pages going “I wonder if I can do this” and then it works on the first try. He does consider whether it’ll hurt Essie and decides not to try it, but as I said, he does it soon after anyway so like ... I don’t think it’s supposed to be funny or show how little of a shit he gives about Essie, but that’s sort of the implication and I thought it was funny as hell. 

Anyway, the magic pocket is about as much worldbuilding/lore as we get from this series entry, aside from the trolls having their own political intricacies and tensions, which I’m assuming the next book will expand upon. The writing itself in this book was pretty bad at times. The repetition of certain words and names was really glaring in some parts and felt amateurish. Take a shot every time the word “magic” appears and you’ll be in the grave before the book ends. Prince Rharreth and King Charvod are almost always referred to with their full titles and names for some reason? A few editing rounds would’ve helped this a lot, methinks.

The plot is mostly moved along in Essie’s POV, which is slightly less insufferable than usual because she’s the one observing the movement of the two armies and there are actually action scenes in there that, while don’t exactly made me worried about her (there’s no way this perfect idiot will ever die), still provided some tension. But it’s honestly not much, the “war” lasted two entire weeks (and that’s including the strategy, logistics, and mobilizing) and with how fast the armies travel and how little resistance they face (and how Deus Ex Farrendel-d the final battle was, the guy is apparently full of godlike destructive power despite being starved and tortured, go off king), it all felt very unrealistic and easy. Like, we have two armies marching in the middle of a mountain chain during magical snow storms, all while being regularly assaulted by the defending army, and they still get there no problem, without a single mention of soldiers struggling not to die of exposure. Aight. I guess these elves and humans are just very resistant to the cold, for some reason.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the reason it goes over so fast in-universe is because the author wanted Farrendel to be horribly tortured throughout his captivity, but also knew that if that lasts too long, the damage will be too severe to easily resolve in the next book. But instead of easing off the hardcore torture, because then we’d lose out on that drama and those High Stakes, she decided to speed up the whole war thing, because hey, who cares about that, anyway? We just want Farrendel back, right? Riiiight? Better hurry up guys! Don’t want Farrendel to be too tortured to fix with some strawberry-flavored medicine and vague counseling in the next book!

So yeah, the plot moves on speedily, but at what cost? Mainly depth. Again. And once again, Essie suffers the most from being a bland caricature of a person and dragging the whole thing down. The author’s GR bio says she writes “spunky and tough” leading ladies, and I guess having no other things in your brain except sparkly kitten gifs is a certain kind of toughness in an “immovable object” sort of way, but “spunk” implies a of counter-culture edge that sweet widdle Essie simply does not have.

There was one small section where Essie felt bad over how the human and elven warriors were going to die, how many mothers and sisters and daughters would suffer just so she didn’t have to, but then we don’t find out the death count, the casualties are never even mentioned, and Essie moves on from this without even a single thought questioning the morality of a monarchy or her own position of power. Now, I get that that’s not the focus of this series, but it just adds to how Essie’s worries are always surface-level and never justified by the plot, how she never has to do any introspection and is never allowed to not always be annoyingly positive. Whenever she even begins to think something negative, she instantly, almost compulsively changes trajectory and just decides not to worry about it, and then it never comes up again anyway. This would’ve been like, an interesting take on toxic positivity and how Essie represses her own emotions, but no, the book never goes there, she’s just that perfect and wee and optimistic, even during a war and when her husband’s being tortured to near-death. It’s kind of insulting to read, honestly.

Oh yeah, that’s another thing that annoyed me. Even when she loses Farrendel, she takes it surprisingly well and focuses mostly on keeping a positive attitude for his sake, so he doesn’t feel her sadness through their “heart bond.” I never really felt her loss, her love for him, when she so easily could just decide not to feel bad “for his sake.” I want her to feel bad, I want her to miss him and to ache at his absence and to fear for what they’re doing to him. But no. That would just upset him more and hurt him more. So Essie doesn’t get to experience any negative feelings because it might upset her husband. Essie doesn’t get angry and determined to fight, she just keeps being her cheery little Stepford Wife self because being nice will keep everyone’s spirits up and make them hope and fight harder to preserve that hope!! :)

It just comes off as really flat and moralistic yet dishonest at the same time, because nobody would fucking react like this IRL. Essie might be a good person in-universe, but she drags the entire series down just by being perfect, cheery, and never, ever challenged or even allowed to challenge anything herself. Essie isn’t allowed to have any negative feelings because it might affect her husband, and yet we’re supposed to find this empowering somehow? We’re supposed to believe she’s spunky and confident and a sweet little firecracker of a redhead?

Eugh.

At least Melantha is an idiot, I guess. One whole female character gets to have a flaw, and she’s the almost-villain who needs to be fixed with love.

Idk man. The sexism in this series is like a constant undercurrent that grows stronger with each installment as our “understanding” of this world expands. All of Essie’s brothers, including the king, are at the front lines because they are manly men “have to” be there, while the women who aren’t Essie or Jalissa stay behind to be mothers and caretakers. It’s never expanded upon and just sort of accepted as part of both human and elven society and the narrative treats it like this obvious thing that even Essie doesn’t really bother noting how unfair and/or weird it is. There’s not even a single comment on it. Essie is in the war not because she can fight but because Farrendel needs her, and Jalissa is there because ... Um. Because ... she. Uh. She needs to be there when they confront Melantha? She’s Farrendel’s sister? Idk. Jalissa’s main point in this series so far seems to be the ship tease between her and Edmund that feels awkward and one-sided as fuck.

So yeah. The pacing and plot flowed along really well, but the characters and the writing and worldbuilding are all just really undercooked, which, at three books into the series, feels more glaring than ever.

But hey, at least it was a quick read!

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – fifty-nine🔖

Reassurances did little for Satan to forgive his own blunders. You were at his side, attentive to the slightest changes of his expressions, intent on making him realise that he had not been at fault for what happened. The Purgatory Hall members did not comment on what they saw, and instead ushered everyone to their living room, asking for their preference of refreshments. Mammon seemed shaken by his brother’s outburst and was strangely quiet until Solomon sat next to him and enticed him to form a pact.

“An equivalent exchange for a moment of my time, don’t you think so?” The sorcerer smiled, any emotions or thoughts unreadable on his face. Mammon frowned, then looked at you as if he were betrayed; the sorcerer did not mention any catch on his agreements last night, attributing his generosity to drunkenness. You should have known better to believe him.

“Oh, you couldn’t take a joke, Avatar of Greed~ At least I tried~”

“Didn’t sound like a joke to me.”

You mouthed a sorry to Mammon, hearing him shout something about notebooks before your attention returned to Satan. Perhaps due to his outburst earlier, everyone’s eyes were focused on him, notes on their hand along with looks of expectation—no one was willing to speak first even if they wanted the study session to start. Lucifer’s warning was received in varying degrees: from indifference to outright opposition. You even heard Asmo say something about how unfair their firstborn was, expecting everyone to study together when he couldn’t even go. Then, you turned your attention to someone across from you.

“Simeon says he has an ice pack, Levi.” You tested. You weren’t sure if you were forgiven yet. He had defended you and seemed worried about you last night, but you would honestly do the same for him if you had ever switched roles. Just because you are fighting doesn’t mean that you stopped being friends. Thankfully, he did not ignore you this time, and instead let out a soft hm, as he stood up. No words, but there was acknowledgement at least.

Sigh.

Now…how do you deal with this situation?

The air was too thick and awkward. Satan was spent. Was it a good idea to continue today’s group study? But everyone didn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving either. You waited and waited, the sound of quill pens hitting paper almost deafening. They might as well just study alone!

“What the—how am I supposeta understand this? Yer handwriting’s chicken scratch!”

.

.

.

.

.

Well. At least Mammon and Solomon were having a more productive time. You squeezed Satan’s hand from under the table, catching him off guard. “Something the matter?” His eyebrows were knotted and he looked so solemn while reading paragraphs of human realm info dump.

“So, got any ideas on how to start?”

His tense expression relaxed. “You were worried.”

“Of course.”

“Not scared?”

You blinked at him. “Scared?”

He leaned his head to your side, unbothered by the public display of affection. For an unlabelled relationship, he never gave you the time to doubt his sincerity towards you. “You were the last person I ever…” He paused, making circular motions on your palm. “I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

You booped his nose and laughed, causing him to pout. “I would have avoided you if I were.”

Simeon and Luke’s arrival did wonders on the large study table. The food caused Beelzebub to perk up, and Belphie was happily admiring the pretty “galaxy drink” (fully awake) that Luke had concocted for the refreshments. Asmo was making knowing glances at yours and Satan’s side, causing you to straighten yourself up from your seat and making your not-yet-demon boyfriend laugh at your delayed reaction.  Levi also came back, nursing his black eye with an ice bag, wincing at the pain. Mammon and Solomon were still arguing, making you turn over to them in curiosity.

“What do you mean ya have no notes? Smart people always have notes!”

“Smart people don’t need notes~”

“And smart people can write!”

“Something wrong?” You decided to look over to see what’s going on in their table while everyone was having a snack break.

“Oi, human! This guy’s a total hack!” He pointed at Solomon, who only smiled vaguely at you. “He ain’t no wise King! Can’t even write a darn proper sentence!”

You noticed Solomon’s bandaged hand… “You’re injured.”

“Oh, it’s nothing life threatening. It’ll heal right away.”

…then turned to Mammon who immediately shook his head and sputtered out a multitude of denials. “I-I didn’t do nothin’! His hand’s been broken since we got here!”

“It’s true.” He confirmed, looking over at you with a nod. “I had a tussle with a sorcerer last night.”

“At the mage party?”

“Mhm.”

“With the hot mages?”

“Mhm.”

“While you’re really drunk?”

He tilted his head and snorted a laugh. “I’m still seeing stars right now.”

You sometimes forget that this man was also human like you. After throwing up and drinking a recovery potion, Asmo had been fine—back to his affectionate and cheerful self. Solomon was different. Being a powerful mage didn’t equate to being invulnerable.

“Are you okay? Did I make things difficult for you?”

You saw his eyes widen, as if having someone worry about him was something rare or even impossible to happen. You haven’t seen this expression on his face before—was it timidity? It felt…fragile. He almost looked like a child.

“Difficult?” He parroted. “It’s just a broken hand. Inconvenient, yes. But this doesn’t concern you.”

Any semblance of that fragile child you have seen in him for a fraction of a second disappeared completely, replaced by his usual, whimsical expressions. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, of course. I appreciate your concern.” He looked over at the other table and said,

“But isn’t Satan starting his tutoring sessions over there already?”

…before going back to teaching Mammon about magic spells.

It almost felt like he was pushing you away, but you thought the idea too ridiculous and dismissed it. He had always been like that.

You sat back on your seat and listened to Satan’s crash course on seductive speechcraft. It was certainly a lot more concise and interesting than Lucifer’s complex reviewers—okay, interesting was an understatement. He hadn’t even started with his seductions yet and you were already seduced.

“Focus on the lesson, please.” He playfully bonked your head with Lucifer’s rolled up reviewers. “Or do you want to get detention?”

“But this is a study group.”

“Oh, I am not shy with inflicting punishments myself. Especially to wayward students.” Or so he says feigning annoyance, but when everyone else wasn’t looking, he had the audacity to kiss your cheek and say, “Feeling feverish? It is the rainy season.” You caught Levi rolling his eyes on your peripheral, probably thinking of something along the lines of stupid normies.

So much for stealth, Avatar of Wrath.

There were many more instances, like a squeeze on your hand below the table, or an endearingly cheesy poetry thinly masked as a love confession on Literature 63: Classics All Over Three Realms. There was a hilarious recount of Emison Beckstein’s novel, but instead of the usual characters, everyone else turned into various breeds of cats to keep the lecture interesting. Simeon ate up the whole DevilPoint presentation, clapping his hands and even crying a bit at how well-thought out it was. It was almost strange to see Luke being the more muted one in their angelic duo. Belphie was strangely active once it was time for Astronomy 18, answering Satan’s questions at lightning speed that it was almost impossible to butt in.

“You’ve read your reference books. I’m impressed.” Satan said smiling.

“I haven’t touched a book willingly for at least 600 years.”  Belphie drawled out, unsmiling.

Meanwhile on the other table, you heard Mammon groan in frustration as he got the answer wrong for the nth time.

“Whaddya mean it goes like this and that? It doesn’t make a lick of sense!”

“Oh? But it’s so simple!” Solomon then began to explain the answer in words you can barely comprehend. You looked at the sorcerer, then at Belphegor and concluded: geniuses are scary.

Your eyes chose to settle back onto Satan, finding his intelligence not as inhuman (irony at its finest) nor as unattainable as the two abnormals. “I like your brain the best,” you didn’t realise you said that out loud, making Satan burst into laughter.

“I would prefer it if you would like me enough to pay attention. Or is my body part your only reason to like me?”

You threw a french fry at Asmo when he suddenly waggled his eyebrows. “Luke is listening, so get your head out of the gutter!” Your action prompted everyone else to do the same, throwing and shoving food into the former Jewel of Heaven’s mouth, a complete caricature of what he once was.

“Listen to what?” Luke blinked, looking up from his notes. Simeon gracefully evaded the smaller angel’s questioning with a random fact about stars. Beel didn’t really understand what was going on, but seeing as his brothers had chimed in, he shoved a few more French fries at the distraught Asmo’s mouth, an outcry letting out of his poor victim’s mouth (something about empty calories yet he swallowed every single piece anyway).

“Sataaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, they’re being so mean~!” He said Satan but embraced another(read:you), squeezing himself in between the two of you and smooshing both of your cheeks.

“You smell like booze, Asmo.”

“Oh, darling! Why must you hurt me so? :( ~”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, stroking his head in comfort. “You’re fine, Asmo. You’ll get past this. You always do.”

Satan’s smile was deathly cold. While he insisted that it was fine for Asmo to sit in between both of you, you knew better. He’s probably going to ask to be spoiled later. The thought alone was something to look forward to, and made the gruelling endeavour of studying for the sake of not getting into trouble with Lucifer a little less tedious. And the troublemaker who dragged everyone into the mess in the first place seemed to be trying his best as well, at least according to Solomon who remarked (rather impressed) about Mammon’s astounding mathematical abilities once the session for the day concluded.

Once Satan got the hang of pacing his lessons, everyone observed a drastic improvement on their mock test scores. Levi a.k.a on-the-verge-of-getting-the-rope-for-his-numerous-attempts-to-skive-athan (who you have long reconciled with after a teary marathon of Ghibli films with Beel and Belphie), almost received his second black eye when he unconsciously reached in for a kiss from his unamused younger brother. Satan was crushed into a hug by a grateful Beel anyway, whose sincere thank you, had been more well-received compared to Leviathan’s smooches (causing the third-born to sulk). The said incident had been implored to never be mentioned by both parties ever again.  

Of course, due to your busy days working as the exchange student representative (as well as Satan’s duties as student council treasurer), your vague relationship remained a status quo. You’re definitely NOT “just friends”. No platonic friends would ever kiss each other as much as both of you do. It couldn’t be brushed off as something out of friendly affection either, as you recalled every affection you shared under the sheets as anything but friendly. You almost got in trouble for your public displays of affection a few times when Lucifer had time to attend the study sessions. Almost as if Satan wished to be caught—he was usually better with being discreet at the times when Lucifer wasn’t around. When you ask him this, you never get an answer though, so you attributed his silence as affirmations.

💌💌💌

“What are we sneaking around for?” You asked him, genuinely confused as he led you to Lucifer’s garden. He’s entering this place…willingly? Is this really Satan? He laughed when he mimicked your thoughts, much like J*seph Joestar’s running gag in Part 2—only, this was mother effing Satan; he was no ridiculously buff anime character but a respectable member of the illustrious Seven Princes of Hell™.  He immediately denied your sensible (ha!) claims of him taking interest in your Chinese cartoons, and instead refocused your attention to a small patch of land he told you to enter.

“Lucifer doesn’t know about this spot.”

“In his own garden?”

His close-eyed smile had been lovely. “He’s been too busy to know. Anyway, I have something to show you.” He urged you to enter the small hole of trimmed grass hidden by Lord Diavolo’s statue—an enchantment, you’ve begun to know as he had undone numerous barriers protecting a space that appeared a lot bigger than the Alice in Wonderland-esque “door”.

“Your room?”

He moaned out in approval from afar, obscured by a stack of tomes on his table. It did seem like he was trying to retrieve something from his balcony. “I installed this portal just recently. Makes the trip to Purgatory Hall more convenient.” After the incident with the broken blackboard, you had been holding the studying sessions in Purgatory Hall instead. The atmosphere there had been too familiar to really consider on changing locations, and Simeon and the others did not seem to mind. “Actually, can you come here instead? It’s pretty dark in there.”

Dark? Well of course. Devildom is in eternal darkness. But you held your urge to banter.

You were surprised to see light in a small corner of Satan’s balcony—an artificial sun, albeit small, illuminating a familiar flower on a plastic pot.

“That’s…”

Satan smiled sheepishly as he urged you to scoot over to him. “Mhm. I did say I’ll give you another gift.”

“This…this is too much!” Growing a carnation? In such a harsh environment? “Isn’t it hard to…make it survive here?” Your question was answered by a quick peck on your lips. His beautiful emerald eyes narrowed at you, lips curving up into a smile that made your heart skip a beat. How much does he love you to do this?

“I didn’t do this to make you cry, kitten.” A nickname he only approved of if you were the one it addresses to. He wiped your tears with his fingers, kissing the corner of your eyes. “Look closely. Such a lovely little thing, trying their best to live their life in an unfamiliar environment. Doesn’t it remind you of someone?”

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“UuuuuuUUuuuuuuU!!!!”

“Hey—! What did I just sa—!”

You tackled him to the ground, smothering him with your hugs and kisses. “I loveuuuu Sachaaaan—” You sniffled, soothed by the gentle strokes he made on your back. Despite his protests, he continued holding you anyway, offering loving words you knew he meant from the bottom of his heart.

“I love you too. More than anything in this world.” You wondered what number that kiss was in your ever growing kisses with him; how does he see you in those alluring green eyes of his? Was his heart also beating out of his chest?

“I don’t want to leave…” you couldn’t help but say, which he replied with a forehead kiss to signify his agreement as he sat you on his lap, back leaning on the wall.

“Then don’t.”

“Sataaaaaan.”

“It’s only a suggestion.” He laughs. “A tempting one, isn’t it?”

You finally stopped crying. Only an evidence of it was left on your tear-stained face. “What will happen to us?

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…sorry, that question is unfair.”

“We’ll…”

“Think of something?” You finished his sentence for him, causing him to laugh quietly at your side. “Once Mammon passes his exams—oh, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t do anything this time.”

“Huh.”

“Well, Solomon is going out of his way to help despite his injury. And…” He hesitated, yet spoke out his thoughts anyway. He didn’t want any secrets, and you felt the same. “...it seems like Lucifer did not approve of such arrangements.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why so?”

“It’s just suppositions but, Solomon might be involved in whatever Lucifer is busy with.”

You suddenly felt very guilty. “Doesn’t that mean that I did something really bad?” Did you intrude upon his already busy life?

“Well, he was the one who accepted.” Satan, however, reassured you.

“Still…”

“I did say it was a supposition. I might be wrong.”

You hoped so. You couldn’t really know. In fact, you didn’t know much about the sorcerer at all.

“Speaking of suppositions…” ah. He’s pouting again. “You mentioned about a love letter. A secret admirer…”

“Someone I NEVER knew and never made himself known.” You emphasised, kissing the creases on his brows away. “Satan, I haven’t thought about him until you brought him up.”

“Which means his letter is still out there—in your room, rotting away in its leafy carcass.”

“Paper. It’s paper. Say it like how everyone does.”

He made a tch sound, making you promise to retrieve it and have it read once he’s finished with his tutoring.

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What you didn’t expect was his impromptu proofreading when you handed it out to him. You never really managed to finish reading it—pages and pages of flowery words and lovelorn promises. Your heart skipped a beat with several of its passages, and were surprised by how…this enigma seemed to know you despite not knowing him at all.

“Clearly this is a stalker.”

And so, your romantic fantasies were thereby thwarted by your cynical demon, You saw him roll his eyes as he begrudgingly admitted the author’s skill with his word weaving, amazed by his vocabulary and prose. “Carnations too. Had he seen my gift and imitated me?”

“It must be a coincidence.”

That, he readily admitted to be the likely possibility. He hated how you made sense; gives him less reasons to ask to be comforted (read: spoiled) by you. “He could be dangerous.” And so, he turned to Freud and his idea of rationalisation. He wished it could have been projection—reaction formation if you wanted him to be more civilised; he can make compromises. Any excuse to inflict harm on the said man, really.

“If he was, then I never found myself to be in one. Much more when you’re there protecting me.”

“I do all the work for him, do I not?” You chuckled and kissed his still pouting lips.

“If you hate it so much, you can throw it away.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, considering the thought. “Or, I can one-up my competition and write a better letter. Letters. I can write one every day starting now.”

Your eyes widened, remembering the embarrassing bouquet he gave you. Oh. Oh. No! You weren’t having that again!

“No more grand displays, sir! I object!”

“No more? I haven’t even started yet.”

You shook your head repeatedly, complaining to him about the aftermath of his previous one. You couldn’t believe the utter audacity of his words.

“You call that a grand display? You have some low standards, kitten. I am inclined to change it.”

“No!”

He caged you in his arms this time, forcing you to meet his eyes. Darn it. Why was he so handsome?

“What would I do to make you say yes?”

Any embarrassment was thrown aside; replaced by evil, evil thoughts. You smirked.

“I want you to be my boyfriend. For real. No secret relationships. Full-blown, embarrassing declarations of love by the school grounds.”

“Deal.”

“Ha! I knew—Wait what?!”

He only answered with a smirk on his annoyingly attractive face, making you realise the answer for yourself.

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Well fuck. You just got played. The letter? Good as gone. Burnt, burnt, burnt to ashes, too eager for its own end to await for the vermilion bonfire on the school grounds to claim it.

Instead, it had been you who was being threatened to be consumed. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be pressured into this. Everything had gone according to his plan—he really is a show-off! And you thought he was the “normal” one in their family!

Oh shit.

Exams were coming up after the festival.

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You’re going to get looks while taking your exams, won’t you? You definitely will!

Try as you will to make it known to him that you were not pleased with your agreements, he only laughed at you, planting kisses on your face. When you asked him if he was treating you like how he treats catty (pun intended) felines, he did not answer; but all it took was a glance at his impish lips to know (internally) he said yes.

💌💌💌

You couldn’t concentrate. Not with knowing what will happen on the festival dance. Not with that big ass bonfire standing there, reminding you of your stupidity. Not with your almost-boyfriend reminding you of how excited he was to dance with you tonight! It was a miracle you were able to carry out your final duties as a festival organiser without letting so much as a stumble out from the many opportunities where you could have screwed everything up for everyone—at least your body had the decency to not do that. You wish you could say the same for Satan. Oh, you loved him so much but sometimes, he can be so…so infuriating. What was more infuriating was that he knows deep down, that you were looking forward for this too.

Was his grand gestures as grand (read: embarrassing) as you anticipated? Immensely grand. Immensely showy. Immensely devilish and so very him. You were blindfolded on your way, a smiling Asmo surprisingly cooperative and tight-lipped when you asked him questions about his contributions to his brother’s grand grand schemes.

You only heard a muted orchestra in the background as you neared your destination. Asmo didn’t let you go, and instead led you up a small flight of stairs—one, two, three…five steps. This must be the makeshift stage near the bonfire where Lord Diavolo would be sitting for the rest of the event. You could hear his voice now, a cheerful baritone that hinted of his own cooperation (and perhaps outright enthusiasm) when he greeted you, marvelling at the unique charms of human world school festivals where he took his most recent project’s inspiration from.

“You can open your eyes now, sweetie.” Asmo whispered on your ear as you felt a bright light on you, eyes squinting at its sheer intensity. A spotlight? But before you could ask anything, Satan’s voice boomed in the speakers. Your still squinting eyes, adjusting to the light searched for its source but only saw the fascinated crowd below you.

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“You asked for grand gestures and I delivered,” You didn’t! Not unironically! But your protests were deafened by the noise around you. Clamours and cheers, your name mixed in the cacophony of sounds shouted by voices familiar and dear to you. You saw some of them in the crowd, but your favourite blond was not among them. You strained your ears and listened to his voice once more.

“A famous human playwright named Shakespeare once said that the robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief. I didn’t give much thought to his words, thinking it meant something shallow or too humanly inclined for me to understand, but…” he called your name, a sweet and gentle tone permeating his love for you.

“But now, dearest? I feel like I do.”

His words were like a trigger, muting the voices from below—they formed groups around the bonfire, partner after partner, hand in hand, dancing to the beat of human realm music in harmonious cadence.

“My lovely thief, may I steal you away tonight? For the rest of your life?

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Save the last dance for me, won’t you?”

Wait. Isn’t that—

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬʸᴵᴺᴳ... ᵐᵉʳʳʸ⁻��ᵒ⁻ʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʲᵒᵉ ʰᶦˢᵃᶦˢʰᶦ: ʰᵒʷˡ'ˢ ᵐᵒᵛᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃˢᵗˡᵉ ᴼˢᵀ 1:05  ───|────── 2:53 |◁              II             ▷|

“Howl’s Moving Castle?”

Anime music? In a school festival? This must be Levi’s doing!

“Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to dance?”

“Levi?” Speak of the demon!

“No, Sophie—of course it’s me! Geez. How did I get dragged into this….”

His black eye was still there, but it was healing. Blushing to the tip of his ears, he fumbled as he searched for your hands and clumsily held them as he led you down the stage.

“M-Moses!”

“Not a name I thought I would hear in Devildom, but I see your point.”

Your point exactly? Exactly as you might be thinking right now. The crowd parted to make way for you, until Levi settled you in an empty spot and shakily threaded your fingers. “J-just so you know, Satan forced me into this! I have an event to grind, y’know! You should be grateful!”

“I am. Thank you, bestie~”

You heard him scoff, yet he took the lead effortlessly anyway, matching the strides of the other dancers around you. “You only call me that to tease me.”

“You know it’s out of friendly affection.”

“Yet you dodged and got me this black eye—“

“What, you want us to get it together?” He snorted, his amber eyes narrowing as he caught you after you dipped. “You better make it up to me soon. I’ve listed so many of your felonies and they’re only increasing as we speak.”

“Oh?” You glanced at him sideways and prepared to spin. “What are friends for?”

Dancing with Levi had been lovely. It was easy to talk to him, especially after how you’ve already made up.

“Hey,” he called to you, sounding hesitant.

“Yeah?”

With bitten lips, the words he caught in his throat collected, and with a sigh to lessen its impact—its filter, he finally spoke. “Are you happy?”

That made you think and look back at your memories in Devildom. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows of course, and you would argue that there might even be hostility there at both parties especially your first encounters with them. But now?...

“I couldn’t be any happier!” You smiled at him. “I’m so glad I came here! I’m so glad I met all of you!”

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“I’m glad.” Somehow, the way he smiled back at you felt faraway. “I’m going to lose a best friend when you’re gone.”

…until he voiced out his thoughts and you finally understood. He was so silly, wasn’t he?

As his turn came to an end, and with it, seeing Beel approaching, you kissed his cheek and answered,

“No one can ever take your place, Levi. You will always be my best friend too!”

You might have imagined it, but it looked like Levi was about to cry when you left.

💌💌💌

“Congrats.” Greeted Beel as he linked your arms together.

“…Satan bribed you, didn’t he?”

Beel pondered for a bit as he spun you, catching your back with his palm and threading your fingers once you repositioned. “He cooks really well. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay! You’re right though. You should ask him to make as much meals as you want to take advantage of the situation.” Now, Beelzebub might be the demon amongst both of you (at least biologically speaking), but you were far, far more devilish and equally vengeful. “Do you want recommendations? I know some exquisite human realm cuisine you could ask him to make for you!”

The way Beel’s mouth watered as he asked you to make good of your promise after the festival affirmed that you have successfully turned the tides against your almost-boyfriend. Wordlessly, he guided you to your next partner, a rather sleepy looking Belphegor who was trying his best to keep himself awake.

“Just a little more, Belphie!” You encouraged him, taking the lead for him instead.

“Sleep…”

You laughed and shook your head as you tried your best to keep him awake.

You got to hand it to Levi for choosing good anime music. To an unsuspecting normie, it sounded like it belonged to a ballroom. In fact, it was wayyyy too effective as Belphie complained about it sounding too much like a lullaby. “Ah…congrats by the way.”

“Thanks..

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Belphie, your face is too close—“ Ah, he’s almost going to pass out! You snapped a finger in front of him and he repositioned.

“…aren’t you going to say something to me?”

You blinked your eyes and tilted your head. “No?” And you saw Belphie frown as you answered. Almost melancholy. He shook his head.

“Nevermind. What’s important is you’re here, and you’re happy.”

Try as you should to understand what he meant, you could not. Not even once he led you to Barbatos, your next partner.

“Congratulations.” He offered his heartfelt felicitations, and you couldn’t help but blush in embarrassment.

“Why did Lord Diavolo agree to such a…grand (you hated that word now) scheme?”

Barbatos hummed, filled with his usual grace and composure. “Milord is generous and wise. And you,” He halted his words for a short while to hold you by the waist. “You are more than a student to this school. You’re family to those brothers, so family you shall be treated.”

That answer was very him, you supposed--showing not a hint of his emotions or inner thoughts. His dedication to his work was impressive.

“Shall we?” He offered his gloved hand to you as his turn ended. And when you accepted, you were treated to a small, yet rare smile from him. Simeon awaited you on your next turn, a serene smile on his lips as well that you felt obliged to return (albeit more awkwardly).

“Congratulations!”

Bright. Bright! Too powerful!

“You have provided me such excellent material for TSL’s next volume. Thank you, kindly~!” Were you just imagining it, or was he teasing you right now? The way he led you was flawless, feeling his grace down to his fingertips.

“Are you really going to use Satan’s cheesy grand gestures in your next volume?” You blinked your eyes, suddenly reminded of the fact that you’re friends with a very successful author. The fact that you’re not starstruck right now was almost unimaginable.

“The Lord of Masks and his unexpectedly romantic side is very very tempting to explore.” He reasoned, holding you by the shoulder. “The current arc needs a bit more light-hearted scenes, methinks.”

Thankfully, you were able to talk him out of doing it before he surrendered you to Mammon.

“Grats…” He was frowning when he intertwined your hands with his, an exasperated sigh as he begrudgingly took the lead. “Your boyfriend’s scary, y’know? I almost didn’t make it out alive!”

“Make what of?” You asked, curious. “Did something happen, Mammon?”

“!!!”

When he didn’t talk, you repeated your question.

“Gah! Don’t look at me with those, googly human eyes of yours!”

“What. Did. He. Do?”

When he didn’t answer you again, you threatened to step on his foot (empty threats, but it was worth a try) so he finally relented (emphasis on the finally). “I might have…tried…to steal the flower on the pot. I’msorryIcan’thelpit!”

He was shocked to hear you laugh instead of being angry with him. Smiling, you shook your head.

“It wasn’t stolen if you’re caught, right?”

Mammon’s confused look was rather adorable.

“…hey, human?”

“Hey, Mammon.” You parroted.

He chuckled and spun you around. “You’re weird.”

He only laughed at you once more when you agreed.

💌💌💌

“Darling~!! It’s our turn now!”

You giggled and accepted his hand. “Hello, Asmo! It’s nice to see you again!”

His playful way of leading you washed the fatigue off of you. It was exhausting to switch partners every one or two spins and dips. And you were happy that Asmo noticed. “Sooooo, how are you enjoying your day?”

“Unsurprised, but still embarrassed. Probably a little hurt you kept this from me.”

Asmo feigned concern, catching your larky tone. “I’m soooo sorry, darling! But Satan insisted! And, you’re happy he did this deep down, aren’t you? Don’t try lying to me now! Love and lust are connected, however blurred~”

“Tch.”

“Fufu~ See, see! I was right!♡” Sometimes, you hated how right he was. And pretty. What’s worse is that he knows it.

“You’re terrifyingly perceptive.” Asmo hummed in agreement as he supported your back to dip.

“Of course!~ I’m amazing, aren’t I? Praise me more!”

“You’re amazing, Asmo~”

“Oh, darling, I love you!!!”

You laughed as you accepted his hug, a fish out of water compared to the synchronised movements around you.

“I love you too, Asmo.”

The artificial sunset reminded you of the real ones in the human world. The large bonfire at the centre of the school grounds continued to flicker as the music played, and Mephisto's voice echoed in the speakers, cueing everyone to switch partners. Satan was dancing with a succubus, being an excellent escort, and you couldn't help the bubble of pride in your chest as he reassured his nervous partner who stepped on his foot a few several times. Isn’t my boyfriend amazing? You couldn’t help but think, a voice from inside you asking several questions back: Why weren't you jealous? Because you didn't have any reason to be. You felt safe. Secure in his company. You knew he would never hurt you, not on purpose. You trusted him. You loved him.

"He's good at dancing, isn't he?"

Your eyes focused back at your own partner, laughing at his awkward way of holding your hand.

"I don't have a deadly disease, Solomon." You joked, threading your fingers together and feeling the heat of his hand. He pulled away instinctively, eyes looking elsewhere. Oh darn. You keep on forgetting he's injured.

"Did I hurt you?"

His silence was jarring, but not as jarring as the look of shock in his eyes.

“Does it hurt that much?” Your racked your brain over that healing spell you learned in class. It was Latin something. Or was it Gaelic? Oh shit. You were bad at rune magic—

“Never. Not at all.” Ah, he’s back. You couldn’t help but think, focusing on the bags under his eyes, his usual yet somewhat tired smile. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

You thought you imagined it at first: a surprising, fragile side to him. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was something else. But he was back, and he was squeezing your hand and it hurt. You felt that weird vulnerability again when he apologised to you, before promptly disappearing when he teased you about your sweaty palms, never to return.

“You’re not going to heal it?” You asked, pertaining to his broken hand. “Not before finals?” He has more than enough magical capacity to do so. As if reading your thoughts, he flippantly replied.

“Mammon’s reactions are amusing.”

“I knew you had an ulterior motive!”

Your eyes couldn’t help but wander back to Satan—smiling and having fun. You were relieved to see him enjoying himself, but he was so far away all the same. You could see however, your next partner. Amongst the crowd was the ever elegant Lucifer, leading a demoness who seemed to be enjoying his company.

“…thank you.”

But before you could reply back to him, the sorcerer had already given you to your next partner (Lucifer), making an exaggerated curtsy as he left.

“We finally meet. Shall we?” Lucifer offered his gloved hand and you accepted with a smile. Satan was closer now, almost a turn away, and you caught yourself stealing glances at him as much as he was. You saw him mouth, Lucifer’s glaring at you with a laugh, and you fearfully turned back to the firstborn, and confirmed that yes. He was glaring, and yes. You have missed a spin.

“I was against Satan’s ridiculous gambades. In fact, I find that my negligence caused a lot of discomforts.”

Gulp.

“If this is about Solomon—I,”

His eyes widened at your Freudian slip, holding you in a cuddle dip. You felt him sigh from the nape of your neck, the hoarseness in his voice, you attributed to fatigue. “So you knew.”

You didn’t want to face him. This was supposed to be a light-hearted dance, so why does it feel like you’re being grilled?

“You should have consulted me first, then again…you do not know the underlying reasons of my anger, do you?”

By the time you had to switch back to your original position, you felt yourself creasing your brows. “I don’t. Won’t you tell me?”

He didn’t answer, satisfying your curiosity with thoughtful silence.

“…I’m sorry for keeping things from you.”

You tilted your head, not really knowing what he meant. “Things?”

“You’ll know soon enough. Speaking of…”

A spin. A turn, and he continued. “Come to Barbatos’ Estate after this. You can bring Satan or any other of my brothers whom you trust. Of course, you can also go alone.”

That was…really strange. It certainly snapped you out of that fairytale-like feeling you’re having.

.

.

.

.

“…hello, gorgeous.”

…Only for it to come back at full strength once your weary heart finally found its match.

“If I become the centre of gossip after this, you have to take responsibility.” You pouted as you accepted his hand, threading your fingers together as you moved to the music.

“I only listened to your suggestions.” His close-eyed smile widened as you missed his foot. You hissed at him and it only earned you a sneaky kiss at the back of your hand as you made a turn.

“So, my dearest; on a scale of flawless to perfect, how do I fare as a boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Your first day on the job and you’re already up there, aren’t you?”

“The highs of a love realised.” He bantered.  “A luxury a few can afford.”

You missed his foot again and frowned. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know.”

When did the music stop playing? When did everyone disperse? The bonfire illuminated only he and you, casting shadows on vermilion. His forehead touched yours, looking down to meet your eyes. There was a smile there, not his usual ones—almost warm. “After this and it’s almost over.”

“Oh…”

He kissed your forehead to silence the dark thoughts looming inside there, squeezing your hand to know he wasn’t going away. Not ever.

“My heart will always be with you.” He called your name. “You are just a teleport away anyway. And we can call each other every day.”

“But what if I want to kiss you?”

He kissed you just then, feather soft before pulling away. “Would you like to make a deposit? For a rainy day, of course.”

You blushed, stunned at the sudden gesture. “I’ll use it all in one go,”

A kiss again, this time longer than the other. You stopped moving already and it took you a while to notice. You were too drunk on the moment to notice anything else, in fact.

“Wouldn’t that be a problem? I’m almost tempted to keep you here.”

“Don’t say that…” you bit your lip. “And I’m almost tempted to stay.”

You hated the thought of being away from him. Most especially now that…you had something. A label. An officiation of sorts—validating your feelings for each other.

“Won’t you trust me?”

He said to you, four simple words that you couldn’t help but simmer over as your happy yet fleeting days with him are almost coming to an end.

Lucifer

Have you made your decision?

And then there’s that—a thought you had set aside in favour of not letting your wonderful day to be spoiled. However you wish to evade responsibility however, you could not. You asked Satan’s words back at you again:

Do you trust him?

💌[ Tell Satan. ]

💌[ Go alone. ]

💌masterlist

[ MEMORIA 10: ~To Deceive, To Protect~ unlocked. ]

[ MEMORIA 10: ~To Deceive, To Protect~ unlocked. ]

💌 Read now

💌Read now (first draft version/private blog)

[ A new option has opened in Mammon’s Route: ~Smile at him~ ]

💌Read now

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Oracle Obscured and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many readers will know you already and if they don’t I encourage them to look your works up including Teaching Miss Granger and How I learned to love teachers’ meetings

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Hmmm ... that’s kind of a weird answer for me. I wanted to choose a name that didn’t immediately indicate whether I was male or female. I’d noticed a certain freedom afforded to authors of indistinguishable gender. With no societal construct about the “nature” of the creator, the story stood on its own, without prejudice or conditioned expectations.

I brainstormed about six or seven names and then picked the one that appealed to me most. I’ve always felt drawn to the idea of oracles (those who see beyond). And I definitely felt obscured in that department. (Hell, at the time, my whole life felt obscured.)

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

I don’t know if I do. I guess if I had to pick, I’d say Hermione, as I have a tendency to be an obsessive perfectionist when it comes to work/studying. I like to be organized and plan things out. And I can be quite demanding and harsh with myself when I feel like I’m not measuring up to my own insane ideals.

But I took that openpsychometrics.org statistical quiz a while back, where you answer like a bazillion comparison questions (I did the longer version), and my highest HP match was Remus Lupin (83%). Yeah, I can see that.

Luna is my favorite character, but I don’t know if I identify with her more than anyone else.

Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general)

It used to be horror/suspense, but ... I don’t know ... I’m just not as into it anymore. Maybe it’s because the real world is horrifying enough without adding fictional monsters to the mix.

Now I mostly read classics.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

To Kill a Mockingbird.

At what age did you start writing?

Just writing stories in general? Maybe second grade. It wasn’t a passion or anything, just something I was pretty good at. I only really did it at school, though, not so much at home. I read A LOT growing up, so I naturally imagined that I might be an author one day. I tried to write a book when I was about 13 or 14, but less than one chapter in, I decided it was too hard. (I was NOT a Hermione growing up. Planning and perseverance were not my style.)

I took a massive break from thinking after high school (the smorgasbord of medications I was on didn’t like me using my brain too much, and my plans for college went out the window when my depression become unmanageable). I didn’t really start writing again until I was about twenty-seven. That was when I found fanfiction. I consider that when I really started writing.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I found fanfiction while looking for erotica. Needless to say I discovered the motherlode, and I was hooked. Over the years, I’d written bits and pieces of my own sexy scenarios (which is what you do when you grow up without the internet and you have to depend on your imagination for all your kink requirements), but I’d never really thought about taking someone else’s “story world” and using it as my setting. For a little over a year I read/devoured all the HP fanfiction I could, and then I realized I could take all the fantasies in my head and play them out with my favorite characters.

The first story I wrote was a funny/smutty Ginny/Draco thing, and it was HORRIBLE. The story and the sex were fine, but the writing was a nightmare. I submitted it to The Restricted Section, which was the only site I knew at the time, and they vetted their stories, so I had to get approved. They wrote me back saying it needed work and I should get a beta. So I went on the forum and found one (which was rather brave of me now that I think back). The person who helped me must’ve had the patience of a saint, because he/she(?) never said a damn thing about all the mistakes and shitty-ness. Suggestions and corrections were made, and I changed some of the pronouns to names so it wouldn’t sound so repetitive. The next time I submitted it, they accepted, and I got a decent response for a first-time writer (like three or four nice reviews). No one seemed to hate it, and the reviewers said the sex was hot, so I tried again, hoping to do better.

That’s when I wrote the first chapter of Teaching Miss Granger. It started out as just a oneshot. And it got a much better response. I wanted to write more, but I became extremely depressed and lethargic, and I didn’t really do anything for the next six or seven years. (I mean nothing. Unless you consider watching every episode of Law & Order CI and SVU ten times over to be an accomplishment.)

I came back to it years later, intending to add a few chapters to TMG where they have sex, but ... it just sort of evolved into the monster that it is. I worked on it pretty much every day for about a year. I’d never stuck with ANYTHING that long in my entire life.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

I would say love or “the power of love” is probably my favorite theme. But that includes synonyms for love as well. (Like wholeness, which is the theme of Quartet.)

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

None. I like other fandoms, but I don’t write for them, and I don’t usually read their fanfiction.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

I’ve never really thought about changing cannon. I mean, I change it to suit my fictional purposes (like Snape lives etc.), but I wouldn’t want to change canon for real. The deaths in HP serve a purpose, and while I find many of those deaths heartbreaking, that’s kind of the point. Hatred is bleak and destructive, and good people don’t survive wars simply because they’re good; bad things happen to good people all the time. As for changing something about the individual characters, I can’t get behind that either. The reasons people do things are multifaceted and complex and they’re colored by a lifetime of experiences I will never know or understand, so I don’t feel I can really judge. I can’t say I understand all the choices I’ve made in my own life, and there’ve been plenty of times where I had no choice at all. I can’t hold others to more rigorous standards than I myself can meet. We all have our shortcomings. (And that’s cool. Without them, there would be no growth or diversity.)

Do I have a favorite piece of fanon? Hmmm ... probably Head Boy and Head girl rooming together or having private rooms.

Oh! And uniforms.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I used to listen to really quiet classical music while wearing headphones. Every little sound in the house distracts me, and I have to block it out. But lately I’ve just been running this old box fan that drowns out the noise.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Crap, I don’t know if I can choose. (Plus I feel like I’ve forgotten a lot of what I’ve read.)

My friend Desert Sea is my fav Hermione/Severus writer. Out of her stories, the ones I like best are In Their Hands and At the Headmaster’s Discretion.

After a brief search of my accounts, I’ll go with:

Do Not Go Gentle by senlinyu

Another Dream by dragoon811

The Last Twenty-Four Hours of Severus Snape by CryingCinderella

Pretty much everything by Aurette

Pet Project by Caeria

Post Tenebras, Lux by Loten

All the SS/HG stuff from snapeslittleblackbuttons

There’s a Teddy Radiator story that I like a lot, but I can’t remember the name of it. (Or what it’s about.) (Yes, very helpful, I know.)

And in a category all it’s own is Farmer Granger and the Most Glorious Cock by MyWitch. (Seriously, I read this like once a month and it makes me laugh every time.)

I read a lot of Drarry too. Drarry stories I love:

Everything by bixgrl1, but especially Balance Imperfect and In Evidence of Magical Theory

Everything by lq_traintracks (even the non-Drarry stuff). The writing is amazing.

I love all the advent stories by Saras_girl.

I like all the Drarry stories I’ve read by Faithwood.

I really like RZZMG’s writing. (No particular story or pairing.)

And I just rediscovered a story I found in 2007 (the first m/m fic I ever read). It’s a Snarry, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it was excellent. Snape: the Home Fries Nazi by pir8fancier

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I enjoy a bit of both. My oneshots are all pantsed. TMG was totally pantsed. But Getting Personal and Quartet were both plotted and planned. For GP I did sort of a chapter by chapter synopsis before starting my rough draft, and for Q I went into even more detail—EVERYTHING was planned out ahead of time. The only thing that changed during the first draft was I ended up combining some of the chapters.

How does plotting affect my writing process compared to pantsing? It streamlines it. In a oneshot there’s not much to streamline; the basic story (or general idea) is all you really need. There’s not enough story to get muddled. But when I’m writing something longer, with multiple chapters, I find it’s better to know where the story is going. How deeply I go into that planning can vary. Sometimes there’s just a basic outline of the major plot points and then I fly by the seat of my pants from there. Sometimes I write out a very rough synopsis (sort of like a short and loose first draft) and then start writing as if it’s my second draft. Things inevitably get changed once I really start writing, so the planning isn’t set in stone by any means, but when I plan, the story goes in the general direction I intend without veering too far off course and there aren’t any plot holes. After I wrote TMG (with no planning) I saw that there was A LOT I could have cut or combined without affecting anything important. I learned a little more with each story I wrote, and when I got to Q, there was a lot of complicated ideas that I wanted to incorporate, and there were so many characters (and character arcs) going on that I had to plan extensively to make sure everything fit together. If I hadn’t worked it out ahead of time, it would’ve been like throwing a heap of puzzle pieces on the table but not being given a reference picture to know what it was I was working toward.

What is your writing genre of choice?

I have no idea. Plotty sex? Erotic dramady? Some of it is just straight up PWP, but I usually like to have something meaningful in there too.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Usually the answer is whatever I’ve most recently written, as it’s the most likely to represent my current “best.” In terms of writing, I’ll go with A Brush with Magic, but Quartet is probably my best storytelling. A lot went into that (symbolism, planning, obsessive re-writes) and it holds a good deal of personal meaning to me. So, I guess I’ll go with Q due to the time and effort involved.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

The unexpected always crops up (even with all my planning), and it’s the unexpected that makes the magic.

While I had many insights into my own nature while writing Quartet, in the end I think it taught me to trust/listen to myself more.

Later, however, it brought me a very different message. While writing it, I felt a lot of tension and anxiety; I wanted to “do it right” and present my story in the best light. But after some time away, I realized I’d been so worried because I felt as if that story represented me, as if it defined me. And the pressure of being judged worthy or unworthy had been eating me alive.

But I don’t feel that way anymore. Now it’s like I wrote all my stories in another lifetime. While they all might be a snapshot of a fraction of my mind, nothing I create ever says a damn thing about who or what I truly am. Since letting go of that, I’ve found a sense of freedom around writing. I still like to express things as clearly and beautifully as I can, but it’s more a celebration of words than a search for acceptance.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

Quartet was extremely personal to me when I wrote it, and in a lot of ways I think that made it easier to write. When I have to go strictly by imagination, I feel as if I’m missing some depth of understanding (like I’m getting the surface-level stuff, but missing the nuance). When I write from experience, it has an entirely different quality. Richer. More intimate. It’s work to write what I don’t know, but it’s easy to write the truth.

Posting, however, is an entirely different story. Other people don’t always want the truth, and if you feel like your story is an extension of you, it can hurt to have any part of it rejected.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

I think everything I’ve ever read or seen has influenced me. In terms of writing, I guess I’d say I’m inspired by beauty in all its forms. When I first started reading fanfiction, I just searched for the kinks I liked; it was all about the sex (with bonus points for having a decent plot). Then one day I read an extremely well-written PWP (I don’t remember what), and the way the author described the sex was so unlike anything I had ever read, it totally blew my mind. It was art. Exquisite art. And before that, I didn’t know sex could be art. That author didn’t just recount the characters’ actions, they painted a word masterpiece—they turned porn into poetry. THAT was what I wanted in my life. And I didn’t know it until that moment.

Books/authors that stick with me:

The Harry Potter series (obviously).

Shel Silverstein (Love the poetry, but The Giving Tree is one of my favorite books of all time.)

Dr. Seuss (Always.)

Judy Blume (I still have my copy of Are You There God it’s Me Margaret from when I was, like, 10. Tiger Eyes is my favorite of hers.)

R.L. Stine (I got hooked prior to the creation of the Goosebumps series, but I had EVERY Fear Street Book he wrote when I was in middle school.)

Weekend by Christopher Pike (This was the first YA thriller I ever read. *Sigh* memories. I still have my original copy, and I still read it every once in a while. The characters and plot are great.)

Stephen King (Carrie is my fav.)

Anne Rice (I’ve read all the vampire and witch books, but The Witching Hour is the only one I’ve read multiple times. Blackwood Farm is my next favorite.)

To Kill a Mockingbird

Charles Dickens (David Copperfield is my fav.)

Jane Austen (I can’t pick between Pride & Prejudice and Sense & Sensibility.)

Thomas Harris (Brilliant writing, and Hannibal might be one of the most intriguing anti-heros ever.)

Stieg Larsson (Another brilliant writer with a brilliant character.)

The Giver by Lois Lowry (I haven’t read the rest of the trilogy. And I haven’t seen the movie. I refuse to besmirch my childhood love with Hollywood’s interpretation.)

Bridge to Terabithia (This book devastated me as a child.)

Gillian Flynn (Sharp Objects is my fav.)

Liane Moriarty (I like all of her books, especially Big Little Lies. The way she plays with the timeline is masterful.)

Frank Herbert’s Dune. (I grew up on this. It’s my dad’s all-time favorite book. And, yes, we’re looking forward to the new movie.)

Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid’s Tale is horrifyingly wonderful. And Atwood herself is fascinating. Watch her Masterclass if you get the chance.)

Steinbeck’s East of Eden (This might be my second favorite book.)

The Lucifer Effect by Phillip Zimbardo (This isn’t fiction, but it was the first book that really affected the way I see the world.)

Eisler’s The Chalice and the Blade (Also not fiction. If you’re interested in the divine feminine and a more egalitarian society, this is the book for you.)

Loving What Is by Byron Katie (The only self-help book that’s ever actually helped me.)

Daphne Du Maurier (I love Rebecca, but she also has a story called “The Blue Lenses” that isn’t really intended to be scary, but it freaked me the fuck out.)

The Secret History by Donna Tartt (Gorgeous writing, and the plot left me seriously disturbed.)

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey (Gah! I love this. The writing and the story and the characters and EVERYTHING!)

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury (I Bradbury’s writing style, but the plot of F451 is pure horror for any book hoarder lover.)

The Lord of the Flies by William Golding (This might be my third favorite book ever. No, wait, I might like it better than East of Eden. I can’t choose!)

The Diary of Anne Frank (How in the hell could anyone read this and not be affected by it?)

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

No. This is my own private world, and I like it that way.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very. I write what I want to read. There are certain adjustments I make when I write for other people as opposed to what I do when writing strictly for myself, but nothing major. I refuse to write things I have no interest in, and I don’t write to make people happy. I write to please myself. (But it’s nice when what pleases me pleases others. It’s wonderful to share that connection.)

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I like hearing from my readers. I don’t have a lot of time to interact, but I like talking to my audience and listening to their insights. I try to reply to all the comments I get on AO3 (it’s just too hard on FFN). And when I have free time (which isn’t often) I check my FB groups to see what’s going on. To me, the interaction kind of completes the creative cycle; it helps me set the story free and allow it to be. It really belongs to the reader once I’ve published, and it’s nice to see the ripples creativity creates.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Unless it’s absolutely necessary, stop using the word “was.” Completely changed my writing.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

It doesn’t really happen that much, as I usually know where I’m going with my story, but there can be glitches between scenes or times when I can’t find the words for something (like ending a chapter). When that happens, I usually just leave it and come back later—I can’t force it if it won’t come.

If I really need to get it done for some reason, I read what I have over and over, adding a little bit more each time, trying out words that “sound right” and building what I need bit by bit. What I come up with isn’t always right or what I want, but at least I have something to work with. Sometimes seeing what’s wrong makes what you want more obvious.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Yeah, just about everything Sex, depression, anxiety, personal growth, likes/dislikes, insights, interests, philosophy, all my little neuroses. Every once in a while I’ll even include some dialogue from real life.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I’m juggling about five long stories right now (plus a couple oneshots). And I haven’t worked on any of them in ages. I don’t know what’s going on with me; I’m just not in the mood. I don’t want to say what they are, as I might never finish them. (Two are Drarry and three are Sevmione. One is a compilation of oneshots. Four of them are completely planned out and just need to be written. The unplanned Drarry was always just meant to be for myself and I doubt I’ll ever release it.)

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Yes. Enjoy the whole writing/creative process as much as possible. Try not to beat yourself up, and don’t try to force yourself to be better. You will naturally get better the more you write. Change is inevitable; allow it to happen. Read books about writing, and read good writers. Notice what brings you the most pleasure when you read and tap into that same pleasure when you write. Play with words and ideas just for fun. Watch and see what appears. There is no perfect.

If you’re writing about sex (because I get asked about that a lot), write what turns YOU on. Don’t try to be sexy. Don’t try to write what you think other people want to hear. Don’t worry about what other people think (at least in the first draft). If they don’t like it they can go read something else. But if YOU like it, it will shine through in your writing, and that will have a bigger impact on your reader than any activity you describe. Also, the physicality is only a fraction of the sexual experience. Don’t turn your sex scenes into a play-by-play. You’re not really writing about what the characters are doing so much as how what they’re doing affects them. It’s a personal experience, and the more personal you make it (the more honest and vulnerable you are as a writer) the more satisfying the story will be for your reader. Wise words! Thank-you so much for speaking with us today Oracle Obscured.