#should I tag the title in Spanish? It feels weird not to but it also would also feel like I have to translate my post and tags

[marzipanandminutiae]

The fact that I will never read The Red House by Julián Carax is homophobic

[mxbeezkneez]

Graveyard Companions

Chapter 2: i'm coming back from the dead, and i'll take you home with me

Link to ao3: x

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injury, Cursing

Fandoms: The Addams Family

Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams, Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams/Reader, Gomez Addams/Reader, Morticia Addams/Reader

Tags: Vampire, Vampire Turning, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Blood, Polyamory, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationship, Pre Relationship, Cursing

Summery: “I’m a vampire… a goddamn vampire,” you whisper.You wake up in the living room of a gothic house, and are told you were found unconscious in a graveyard. They claim you are a vampire. As crazy as it is, you can't help but start to trust the couple who found you.

Chapter notes: hi i'm back! i started thinking about the addams family, and well my interest in vampires didn't rlly diminish much... this chapter's pretty long, so i hope you enjoy! i apologize if my french or spanish is bad, i don't speak french, and i only speak a bit of spanish! i actually have like a whole plot n stuff planned, so i'm pretty hyped for this fic! hope u like it! :) (the title is from it's not a fashion statement, it's a fucking death wish by my chemical romance)

You wake up to a loud bang, bolting straight up out of bed. “What the hell?”

You rub your eyes before slipping out of bed. The night before feels very far away, almost unreal, but being in this room confirms your memories. You’re staying in the Addams’ house and are… a vampire. You take a slow breath before grabbing new clothing. You find a pair of black pants to match a dark sweater. While near the dresser, you look out of the room’s window. It’s dark outside, the sky a navy blue sprinkled with stars. The graveyard behind the house is illuminated by the moon shining over it.

You leave your room, deciding to try and find the living room once again. You wander through the halls before finding it. Inside you find Wednesday, the small girl, playing with a younger blond boy. She’s talking to him while holding a headless doll in her arms. You walk farther into the room, stepping on a squeaky board, alerting the children of your presence.

They both turn their heads to stare at you. You nervously chuckle.

Wednesday points at you, “That’s (y/n),” she tells the boy, “I heard father say they’re a vampire.”

“Wow really?” the boy exclaims, “Is it true? Do you drink blood?”

“Um,” you stammer, “Well, I am a vampire, but I haven’t been one very long so- no I haven’t drank any blood. Uh… what’s your name again?”

“I’m Pugsley,” he reaches over and offers his hand.

You shake it, “Well, nice to meet you Pugsley. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re playing the French Revolution,” Wednesday answers flatly.

You chuckle, “Huh. I mean I guess it was an exciting time. Who’s your doll there?” you point to the headless doll in her hands. To be honest, the beheaded doll was very unnerving, but the children themselves seemed nice enough, so you push your nerves to the side.

“Marie Antoinette” she says matter of factly.

“Oh,” you pause, “Explains the lack of head I guess.”

You stand there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Do either of you know where your parents are?” you ask.

“I saw them in the dining room earlier. Uncle Fester was there, but I think he went upstairs to play with his dynomite caps,” Pugsley replies. Uncle Fester? Dynomite caps? There’s too much to unpack there, so instead you decide to find Gomez and Morticia.

“Okay, thanks.”

You head out the door, realizing you have no idea where the dining room is. You go to turn back, but the children are playing animatedly and you don’t want to interrupt, so instead you look for it yourself.

You find the dining room, and sure enough, Gomez and Mortica are seated next to each other at a long table. You walk over and take a seat near them.

“(Y/n)! How’d you sleep?” Gomez greets you.

“Like the dead,” you say flatly. A second later what you’ve said hits you and you blink slowly, “I mean, I slept well, thanks.”

“You did seem rather tired last night,” Morticia remarks, “I’m glad you got some rest.”

“Wait, did I sleep through an entire day?” you ask.

“Yes, though we did tell Lurch not to disturb you,” she answers, “We thought you needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” you take a moment to survey yourself, “I feel okay. I think if anything I feel a little hungry.”

“We can get that squared away! Mama makes the best yak stew.” Gomez springs from his chair and over to a rope hanging from the ceiling. Remembering last night, you brace for a loud noise. Sure enough, once he pulls it, the house shakes as the ringing travels through the house.

“You rang,” Lurch grumbles.

“Yes Lurch, a bowl of yak stew for our guest!” Lurch groans and exits.

“Thank you,” you tell them, “You’ve both been very hospitable, I’m thankful you were the ones that found me.” You feel sincerity in that statement, you were not only grateful for their help, but another part of you has some feeling when you’re near them. You’re not sure what the feeling is, though you can confidently say you didn’t mind the couple, or hell, the weird household in general. Even if it is kooky, you can’t say you’re not charmed by their life.

Lurch comes back with a silver platter that he sets on the table. On it is a bowl of stew that he places in front of you.

“Thanks,” you say, before grabbing the spoon and looking back at the meal. Lurch takes his leave. You’re unsure about eating yak, but you are also hungry and the stew looks fairly appetizing. You take a scoop and put it in your mouth, surprised not only by the flavor of the soup, but also the feeling of chewing. It’s like you can feel your canines rip through the meat faster than before. In the time where you’ve been thinking, it’s completely slipped your mind that you probably have fangs now. That you’ve changed.

“This is- this is actually really good,” you remark.

“I told you, Mama is a culinary genius! Nothing beats her yak stew!” Gomez gleams.

You smile at Gomez. Something about him just makes you want to smile in a soft admission of admiration.

You turn your attention back to the stew, eating it quickly until there is nothing left.

“I’m glad you enjoyed Mama’s cooking,” Morticia smiles, “I’ll have to tell her you enjoyed it. It’s not very often she gets to feed guests.”

“It is very odd, usually most people never come back after eating her food… I can’t imagine why…” Gomez says with a puzzled expression on his face. You chuckle. You notice that you find yourself enjoying the Addams’ company immensely. A part of you feels sad that you will eventually have to leave.

“Ah, c'est la vie (that’s life) ,” Morticia remarks.

“Tish!” Gomez’s head swivels quickly to face her, “That’s French!” he exclaims, grabbing her arm. He begins to kiss it, from her hand to her shoulder, though is interrupted by Morticia, “Darling. We have company. Later,” she says with a sly grin. Gomez raises his head to meet her eyes, a dazed look on his face. “Later.” he remarks, before finding himself back in his seat, “So, Hester, any plans for the night?” he asks casually.

“Um…” you stutter, flustered by the show of passion from the man sitting across from you, “I- I don’t really know… I mean, I’m a vampire now so- does that mean I have to act like one too? I’ve never been in a situation like this, I don’t really know what to do,” you admit, staring at your hands. You look up towards Morticia, “Didn’t you mention you’ve known vampires before? Could you maybe help me?”

“Of course, darling.” Morticia says, “Why don’t we talk in the living room? If you’re alright with it, the children would enjoy listening, they are curious creatures.”

“Yeah, that’s alright. They asked me a question or two when I ran into them earlier. I don’t blame them for being curious,”

“Pugsley’s been very interested in nonhuman creatures lately, ever since that run in with that werewolf he’s been wanting to know more. Wednesday’s been teaching him some things, she’s always had a firm grasp on certain folklore!” Gomez said proudly.

The three of you walked to the living room and sat down, them on the couch, and you in a chair facing them. The children were still in the room, sitting on the floor. You fidget with your hands nervously. “So, do I have superpowers or anything now?” you half-heartedly joke.

“Vampires have very fast healing capabilities,” Wednesday states, “They are very difficult to kill, they must be stabbed with a stake to the heart or decapitated.”

“Very good Wednesday,” Morticia smiles.

“Huh,” you respond, “Alright, that’s not too bad.”

“There are certain weaknesses that should be mentioned, such as sunlight, garlic, crucifixes and running water.” Morticia adds.

“Wait I can’t eat garlic anymore?” you ask, “That kinda sucks, huh.”

“Well technically you can eat anything if you try hard enough,” Gomez says offhandedly.

Morticia cocks an eyebrow at him and sighs, “It’s not so much deadly, it’s more like a food allergy.”

“So I can still eat things with garlic in it?” you double check.

“As long as you aren’t a coward!” Gomez says enthusiastically.

You let out a laugh at Gomez. Wednesday is rolling her eyes, though Morticia just keeps looking at him lovingly. For a moment you forget about the obvious question hanging in the air.

“So…” you start, “I have to drink blood now?” you ask nervously.

“Yes, all vampires must ingest blood to keep themselves alive,” Morticia says, “You’ve got to be hungry by now I imagine,”

“Yeah… but I just ate.” you reply.

“You can still eat food, it just will never fill you. In order not to starve you have to drink blood.” she explains.

You look down at your shaking hands. Everything before now had felt unreal, but this? The seriousness in her voice is making everything too real for you. How could you possibly do that to someone?

“I- I don’t know if I can do that…” you voice shakes, “I mean- how… how could I?”

“Children,” Morticia addresses them, “Why don’t you go play with Uncle Fester while we talk with Hester.”

“Awwww, do we have to?” Pugsley complains.

“A vampire’s eating habits are quite personal Pugsley. I’m afraid so.”

“Alright,” he sighs and follows Wednesday out of the room.

“If you need help procuring someone, you just have to ask. Gomez and I would of course be willing to provide.”

“Provide…?”

“Bodies of course.” Gomez affirms.

“Human bodies,” you repeat, your mind reeling. You had noticed the family was quite odd, even creepy at times, but what they were offering? It sounded too close to murder. You suddenly become very aware of where you are: in a strange house with strangers. Your hands become clammy.

“Is everything alright darling?” you hear Morticia ask. Your throat swells up. You try to force words out, but nothing will leave you lips, leaving you in what is now panic. Finally something spills out, “You can’t kill people for me! You- you can’t!” you sputter out.

“Kill people?” Gomez repeats, “Why we’d bring them alive of course.”

You let out a breath, “Okay, alive. I mean- I just still don’t think I can…”

“Well I suppose there is another option,” Gomez adds.

“What? What is it?” you ask, hopeful.

“Animal blood! It doesn’t work as well, but it’ll do in a pinch.” he explains.

You perk up, “I can do that. That works.” you feel relief.

“Should we make some arrangements? The children could fetch some for tonight.” Morticia asks.

“You have been so kind, really. I would appreciate it, at least for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll work on leaving, I’ve been here long enough.”

“It’s been our pleasure,” Gomez responds, lighting a cigar, “It’s been so long since we’ve had guests.

“Well you certainly are great hosts,” you smile. Despite your situation, you’ve found yourself fairly comfortable here.

“Thank you,” Morticia says, “Now, we ought to ring for Lurch to get some blood. I’m sure the children would love to accompany him.” As she reaches for the bell, you ready yourself for the loud ring. Lurch walks in, “You rang?”

“Yes Lurch, could you gather the children and find some animal blood for our guest here?”

“Yes, Mrs. Addams,” he drawls. He leaves the room in search of the children. A quiet silence falls over the room. Deciding to strike up conversation, you pipe up a question, “So, when did you two meet?”

“Oh, on the best day of my life,” Gomez grins proudly,

“We met at a funeral,” Mortica explains, “It was a lovely day. Grey clouds filled the sky, thunder rolling in the distance.”

“Oh cara mia, I remember it like it was yesterday, our eyes meeting over the coffin,” Gomez starts, “I swear the whole funeral party had to be half as enchanted with you as I had been.” You notice the two of them becoming more enveloped in their memories of each other. You can’t help but smile at how truly in love they are, even if that love meant that you would sit there awkwardly wondering if they were going to just make out in front of you.

“Oh mon cher, you are as charming as you were back then.”

Gomez’s eyes dart up, “Tish! That’s French!” He grabs her arm and starts kissing it.

“Gomez darling,” she warns, “Later.”

He looks up dazed, “Oh yes, our guest. Where were we?” he asks.

“I think you’ve answered my question,” you smile awkwardly.

“Do you have anyone special back home?” Morticia asks politely.

“Well…” you begin to explain“There is this one guy, my roomate, I guess… but I don’t think he likes me like that.” you explain.

“Tiene que estar loco si no le gusta, eres muy guapo. (He must be crazy if he doesn’t like you, you are very handsome.) ” Gomez comments under his breath. You feel your face heat up. He must not know you speak Spanish, judging by how offhandedly he said it. You look over to Morticia who nods ever so slightly, making you even more flustered.

“Uh… gracias, pero… sabes que hablo Español, sí? (Uh… thank you, but… you know I can speak Spanish, yes?) ” you ask. Gomez’s hand, which was placed on Morticia’s knee, now grips it somewhat tightly. Morticia looks over to him in curiosity. His face seems flushed.

“¿Comprendes lo que yo digo? (You understand what I’m saying?) ” he asks tentatively.

“Sí, aprendí a hablar en Español en la escuela. (Yes, I learned to speak in Spanish in school.) ”

“Oh,” a breath leaves his mouth. His eyes keep darting back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell his weight has registered onto the balls of his chair like he is about to leap off his seat, but something is keeping him grounded. You look back at Morticia, who seems about as intrigued as you. A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone sat on edge.

Breaking the awkward scene, Lurch walks in with heavy footsteps holding a platter, “Your blood.”

He sets the platter down on the table, removing the lid. On the platter is a wine glass with a dark red liquid in it. As soon as you see the glass you can smell it, the blood. Rather than smelling rancid, the metallic scent smelled like everything you could ever want. You quickly grab the glass with both hands and hold it up to your lips, gulping down the liquid. The taste of it floods your mouth, though some of it dribbles down to your chin as you frantically consume it. You drink the last drop and set down the glass, looking up.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. You wipe off your chin with the back of your sleeve. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s quite alright,” Morticia affirms, “You’ve just been turned, I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without blood… well I guess there was last night.” You wince at the mention of that encounter. Trying to change the subject, you ask, “What happens if I can’t get blood?”

“Well, either you go to any length to get it out of pure hunger, or if you don’t, you die,” Morticia explains, “So it’s best you feed regularly.”

“So is that why I…” you try to think of a way to phrase it, “Why I don’t feel much restraint when I see blood?”

“Yes, though you’ll get more constraint as it goes on.”

“Oh, okay. By the way, I’m not keeping you up, am I? It has to be pretty late. I mean, I guess I’m already a night owl, so this isn’t too unusual for me, but you two probably should sleep, right?” you ask.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to get some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow if you plan on leaving, we can help you get back?” she asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great. And of course, go get some sleep. I’ll just hang out for a bit.” you say, putting on a small smile.

“Alright, good night then,” Mortica says.

“Goodnight Hester.” Gomez says.

“Goodnight.”

You stay in the living room much longer after they leave, lost in your thoughts. The weight of your new life- or death has started to sink in. Your mind drifts to drinking the blood earlier. The feeling of it had been great, though immediately after your chest felt heavy. You don’t suppose it has anything to do with your newfound changes. No, instead you recognize the feeling as the weight of your guilt.

You can’t help but wonder what kind of creature feeds off the life force of others. You try to reason with yourself by saying it’s like eating animals, yet you can’t accept the notion. This had felt different. Looking back to having Morticia’s blood makes your face flush, but you can’t also help but notice the difference from tonight. While the animal blood was good, and mostly filling, Morticia’s blood, human blood, brought a type of euphoria.

You didn’t need Morticia to spell it out for you. Using animal blood works as a substitute, but you know deep down you are now meant to feed on humans. The realization hits you as you think that. You are no longer human. On this thought your heart aches. What does this make you. Confused? Scared? Yes, those both applied. You feel lost.

You feel anxious thinking about going home tomorrow. Going home means it’s real. It means you have to face your roommate who you’re in love with and somehow not let him know you’re a vampire. You let out a huff. God, how are you supposed to do this? You take a small amount of solace knowing you have the Addam’s help. You’re glad they’ll help you get back home, you don’t think you could do it alone. You know even if you never speak to them again, their impact will be left on you forever.

You get up off the couch, deciding to go to sleep. You trudge to your room and plop onto the bed with a sigh. Eventually you drift off to sleep.

[scribeofred]

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

 1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1.     118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2.     94 kudos on Reflection

3.     91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

 I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

[cousinmarcustalkswrestling]

A Cousin’s Review - NJPW Wrestle Kingdom 15 Night One

January 4, 2021-

Hiromu Takahashi vs El Phantasmo - Winner faces Taiji Ishimori for Junior Heavyweight Title on Night 2

Hiromu had a spectacular Best of the Super Juniors run that ended with the arguable match of the year against El Desperado. Then he challenged the winner of the Super J Cup to a match. That winner ended up being El Phantasmi, who is basically the junior heavyweight version of Jay White. That’s even more appropriate considering Phantasmo is also in Bullet Club.

 Phantasmo starts off going for straight heat by calling out Jushin Liger so he can put his Super J Cup jacket on him, but Hiromu dropkicks him into the rail then hits him with a big ol senton. Phantasmo flips out of a sunset bomb attempt then kills Hiromu with his own sunset flip powerbomb to the floor. This is my first exposure to El Phantasmo and I gotta say that he’s really creative. He does a cool ropewalk moonsault to the outside and drapes Hiromu across the ropes and gives him a back senton. Hiromu has good comebacks, so Phantasmo plans to cut it off by breaking Hiromu’s fingers. Then he shouts out Bullet Club leadership of the past by attempting Styles Clashes and the One Winged Angel. Hiromu falters a few times, but eventually catches Phantasmo with a snap rana and gets the win.

Hiromu is ELITE right now, like arguably best wrestler in the world. Phantasmo was great and this had great psychology. Great opener.

***3/4

Dangerous Tekkers (CHAMPS) vs Guerrillas of Destiny - Tag Team Titles

The Guerillas won World Tag League to set this up and they beat the Tekkers during the tournament. This was a good fun brawly match. The GOD controlled most of it and isolated Taichi. When Zack was in, he made it more interesting with his outrageous wrestling and counters. GOD set Zack up top for the super powerbomb, but Sabre locks in a Guillotine. Sabre screams at Taichi that this is the Tokyo Dome and instructs him to do a Tower of Doom. GOD eventually use the same iron….thing to crack Taichi with and they win the titles. Good, fun tag match, Would’ve been better with more Zack.

***1/4

Kenta (HOLDER) vs Satoshi Kojima - US Title Challenge Briefcase

Jon Moxley being in the states has basically made the Challenge briefcase the interim US title. Kenta helped the Guerillas screw FinJuice out of the World Tag League tournament, so Juice Robinson challenged Kenta for the briefcase, but then he suffered an orbital bone injury. Instead of Juice’s partner, David Finlay, challenging Kenta, the legendary Kojima was named the replacement. Weird, but whatever. No way in hell that Kojima beats Kenta, but it wasn’t worked like that anyway. Kojima looked solid and got in some signature offense like machine gun chops. Kenta never looks like he’s gonna lose, but its a solid intense match. Kojima DDTs Kenta on the apron at one point. He goes for his lariat, but Kenta kicks his arm away and run through his normal offense. Kenta tried to hit Kojima with the briefcase, but Kojima knocked it away with a lariat. That ain’t enough though because Kenta runs through him and ends it with GTS.

**3/4

Hiroshi Tanahashi vs Great O’Khan

I kinda dreaded this match, but it’s not bad. O’Khan doesn’t have the breakout performance that would justify him being in this spot, but he’s also not as awful and boring as he was against Okada. He has a few interesting moments like when Tana goes to skin the cat, but he just chops Tana’s hands. He also grabs a nice kneebar out of nowhere. Tana sells like only he can and makes his great comeback, but ends up in the iron claw. Khan gets frustrated and grabs a chair, but Tana ends up with the chair. He actually considers using it, but he tosses it to the side and drills Khan with a Dragon Suplex then ends it with two High Fly Flows. Tana plugged him right into the Tana formula and Khan didn’t mess it up, so this is just solid.

**3/4

Kazuchika Okada vs Will Ospreay

I was actually anticipating this match, just because its Wrestle Kingdom and with Ospreay’s heel turn, I figure they would really let loose and go balls to the wall. Color me disappointed. Okada teases just wrestling Will, but eventually starts slugging him. Okada is on fire with a big tope, but Will dropkicks him to the floor and takes over. All through the G1, Will’s matches were hurt because he was still trying to his flippy junior stuff and it didn’t work with his new character. Here, he has basically eliminated all of his babyface offense, but he hasn’t replaced it with anything interesting. Plus this match is 30+ minutes which means we hit a big lull while Will controls.

Things kick up a notch and actually feel like the intense grudge match this should be. After a strikefest, Will gets crazy and suplexes Okada onto a table on the outside. He goes for the Oscutter on the apron, but Okada counters to a Tombstone on the apron, then Okada instantly pulls him in the ring for a rainmaker, but Will kicks out. Will escapes another rainmaker, but ends up in the money clip. He gets to the ropes and after a turnbuckle battle, Will hits a big ol Spanish Fly. Will hits the Oscutter, but it only gets two. Deep into the match, Okada is putting over the intensity of the feud by just slapping and kicking Will. Will ducks another Rainmaker and goes for a Super Oscutter, but gets dropkicked out of the sky. Will escapes the Money Clip again and steals Okada’s moves, hitting the Tombstone, the rainmaker pose, and then the Rainmaker to an astonishing reaction, but Okada kicks out. Ospreay goes to end it with Stormbreaker, but Okada spins out, hits a Michinoku Driver and then the true Rainmaker for the win.

Once they decided to kick it up a notch, this was really fun, but definitely too long and Ospreay still needs to improve as a heel. Good match, but disappointing. Their G1 29 match is still their gold star.

***1/4

Tetsuya Naito (CHAMP) vs Kota Ibushi - Heavyweight and Intercontinental Title

New Japan has caught a lot of flack for how they’ve handled this three way situation between Naito, Ibushi, and Jay White. I haven’t really known what to think, but as soon as this match started, I realized that it worked because I didn’t know who would win and that instantly increases the drama. I also have never seen a match between these two, but I heard they have a reputation for being a little rough (LOL).

 They start with just some solid wrestling until Ibushi ranas Naito to the outside. Ibushi wants the Golden Triangle moonsault, but Naito is able to leap onto the apron, avoid Ibushi’s kicks and give him a German suplex on the floor. Let the violence commence people. Naito goes right after Ibushi’s previously injured neck with neckbreakers on the floor and all types of savagery. Ibushi ends up on the apron and catches Naito charging with an insane snap rana that sends Naito flying off the apron. Thats a suuuuuuuper early candidate for spot of the year.

 Now, the momentum has swung to Ibushi’s favor and he tries a German suplex from the apron to the inside, but Naito escapes by targeting the neck and delivers a crazy super poisonrana. Naito drills Ibushi with a hard Destino, but it only gets two. His next Destino attempt is countered to a Bastard Driver. We get an awesome strikefest and Ibushi powers up into the Golden Powerbomb. I love how furiously Naito tried to punch his way out of that, but he still got drilled. Ibushi immediately transitions from the powerbomb to Kamigoye, but Naito kicks out. Naito avoids the Phoenix splash and gets another Destino, but only for two. Ibushi flips out of a suplex lands a hard kick and another Kamigoye, but Naito kicks out AGAIN!! Naito lands Valentia, but Ibushi spins out of another Destino attempt, lands a brutal V Trigger and immediately hits one final Kamigoye to end it and KOTA IBUSHI IS YOUR MOTHAFUCKING DOUBLE CHAMPION BAYBAY!!

Match was awesomely built, brutal with a crazy hot ending. Better than both of the Wrestle Kingdom main events from last year. Awesome main event and MY BOY IBUSHI DID IT BAY BAY!!

****1/2

OVERALL: My favorite kinda show, all killer no filler. Ok I’m overstating it, because it ain’t all killer, but nothing here was bad, it starts with a banger and ends with an even bangier banger. Okada/Ospreay disappointed me, but it was still good overall. Damn good show.

OVERALL RATING: 3.5 OUTTA 5

[searchingwardrobes]

Here’s my latest book review! If you want to purchase the book, please go here and click on my affiliate link, so I get a little money too :) All opinions, however, are my own. I had a lot to say about this book, so more under the cut!

Tagging @snowbellewells​ @reynoldsreads​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @xhookswenchx​ @welllpthisishappening​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @ekr032-blog-blog​ @singersdd​ @cutieodonoghue​ Who the heck wants to be tagged in these reviews? I can never remember, lol!

I am a huge advocate of “read the book first” when it comes to movie adaptations. Nine times out of ten, the book is better than the movie. So I think that the reverse is true: if you watched the movie first, definitely read the book. I watched a cute Hallmark movie called Once Upon a Prince (no, it wasn’t a Christmas movie!), and when I saw it was based on a book, I decided I needed to read it. After all, one of my favorite authors, Denise Hunter, had two of her books turned into Hallmark movies and neither lived up to the book. Therefore, I had a good feeling about Once Upon a Prince by Rachel Hauck.

My conclusions after reading the book? My assumption was one hundred percent accurate. WAY better than the Hallmark movie.

First of all, what comes immediately to your mind when I mention a Hallmark movie involving a prince? Be honest - cheesy, most likely, but this book was far from cheesy! I don’t know how Hauck managed to make such a believable story out of this premise. Even the fictional country of Brighton felt like it could be real, complete with political conflicts and intrigue. Which brings me to the first major difference between the book and the movie. The movie cut out all of the political parts of the plot, which may sound smart on paper (aren’t politics usually boring?), but in this case I felt it was a huge mistake. The political pressure on Nathanial because of the entail between Brighton and Hessenburg increased the tension and made his inner turmoil more believable.

Also, in the movie Ginny is just your standard “woman with a title that everyone thinks the prince should marry” character. In the book, however, she is somewhat of a straight up villain, and I honestly loved hating her. In the movie, she was forgettable. Here, she is conniving and power hungry, and you honestly worry what she might be capable of. That to me was far more captivating.

The Queen, on the other hand, was awful in the movie but more complex in the book. I could say that about all the characters, but the queen most of all. She grew as a character, and I liked her story arc whereas in the movie I wanted to slap her. She seemed too straight laced and shallow in the movie, but not at all in the book.

The setting of the book (outside of fictional Brighton) was St. Simon’s Island, Georgia, a place I have spent many spring break and summer vacations. The movie was honestly laughable in this regard. It was filmed in Canada, not Georgia, and boy did it show! Hauck, however, does a much better job with the setting. They talk about the heat and humidity (versus the Hallmark movie where they are wearing jackets in the summer and you could see their breath - cringe!), the Spanish moss on the trees, and the biking trails that St. Simons is famous for. She even included two famous landmarks: Christ Church and the lover’s oak in nearby Brunswick. She even mentions Brunswick as the location of the tree and how you have to drive out to it from St. Simon’s - a nice touch that lets me know she did her research. Both these locales play an important part in the romance too.

In the movie, Susanna’s family owns a nursery and Nathaniel gets a job there so he can “learn work ethic.” In the book, her family owns a barbecue place called The Rib Shack by the beach (much more fitting to the setting), and Nathaniel volunteers to help out there after Susanna’s father has a heart attack. I love that Nathaniel is naturally a hard worker and humble. I’m over the poor little rich kid trope where you have to watch them struggle to push a wheelbarrow or something. Plus, Susanna would have had zero patience for a man who couldn’t scrub a toilet, much less fall for him. And it was hilarious when they realized they had the future king of Brighton on his hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom.

Which brings me to a plot point that sometimes bothers people - yes, Nathaniel hides that he is a prince at first. However, this didn’t bother me the way it was portrayed. When they first meet, it would seem weird for him to just blurt out, “oh, I’m royalty,” and they hit it off right away. He loves being able to just be an ordinary guy with Susanna, so you sort of don’t blame him for not bringing it up. Does he wait longer to tell her than he should have? Yes, but you kind of get why.

One thing I loved the most about this book was the spiritual aspect. I’ve read plenty of Christian fiction, but rarely do books include truly supernatural things. This one does. There’s a homeless character named Aurora (not in the movie) who gives prophetic words to Susanna (that come true). Both Susanna and Nathaniel pray with their faces to the ground and talk about feeling God’s presence touch them. At one point, Nathaniel says he feels the brush of an angel’s wing against his face and strength fills him.

There’s one final thing I need to say about this book - it was extremely chaste.

. . . . . SPOILER ALERT - skip to the end to avoid . . . .

There is only one kiss in the whole book and it comes after a proposal like in a Jane Austen novel. Call me shallow, but I like kissing, so normally I would be frustrated with a book like this. However, somehow, Hauk makes the attraction so palpable, that you almost think they have kissed. The only other disappointment was that the name of this series is The Royal Wedding Series, but . . . there’s no wedding. I wish the book hadn’t ended with a proposal and we could have seen more of Nate and Susanna happy and in love.

. . . END OF SPOILER . . .

There are two more books in this series. Book one sets up the plot of book two, and book three features Nathaniel’s brother as the male lead. I definitely plan on reading both!

[iamcinema]

IAC Reviews: #009: Extreme Life & Death: The Blair Witches of Shockumentaries: Part One (2000)

Warning: The following film contains graphic imagrey that’s considered NSFW/NSFL, and should be avoided by those who are faint of heart and don’t like the sight of real death media and violence. While the following review delves into such topics, it contains no stills from the film and is marked as safe. If you wish to view it to judge for yourself, it’s readily available online to view via Archive.org.

________________________________________

After disappearing for 84 years, I’m back in the saddle to bring in something new...or old rather. So, what’s a better way to mark my return than with a genre staple of my morally questionable childhood? We’re back in action with another shockumentary title, and this has been one of the more elusive titles thus far.

Extreme Life & Death: The Blair Witches of Shockumentaries is a three-part series akin to others of its kind; bringing us highlights and reels of death, mayhem, and tragedy caught on film. This includes the usual suspects like vehicular accidents, terrorism, natural disasters, and fantastical human feats and achievements - thus the name, Extreme Life & Death.

There’s very little information about the company, DMP Entertainment, out there as the IMDb pages for these entries are barren with nothing to them beyond their tags to explain what they were. You can find a company called DMP Entertainment online, but whether or not they’re related is hard to tell for sure. However, the cover art for Part Two bears a striking resemblence to the artwork for Death: The Final Journey, an expansive seven part series that touches on the same topic, released by Wayne Enterprises and DMN Productions around the same time. Given the similarities, my guess is that DMP Entertainment and DMN Productions are the same company - and oddly enough, both appear to be currently active with their main focus being on music production. Interesting. So, much like the legend about the Blair Witch herself, it’s tough to find solid answers as to the mystery behind these strange titles. While they may not be the most obscure or even potentially sought after, they do raise a brow as to what the hell you’re in for.

Extreme Life & Death; Part One in One Gif:

Hmm, okay, let’s try to talk about this one because I had a hard time doing so elsewhere. Also, I apologize for the strange choice in a photo since I wasn’t able to find a stand alone VHS scan of the tape for some reason. So, shout out to /u/Str8Jeffin over on the VHS sub for being lucky enough to find this. The comments on it are either those who haven’t heard about either film, or applaud him for finding two rarities in the wild - and yeah, I’ll get to Zombie Bloodbath eventually.

Now, the part I’ve been dreading when it’s come to getting to writing this is figuring out how to. As I said previously, this has been a very weird film to dig for and I wouldn’t have known about it if it wasn’t for the few shockumentary lists on IMDb that even acknowledge it and other oddball titles like Traces of Gore, More Than Smashed Pumpkins, and Snuff R73. Much like some of those titles, this applies to even production credits or cover art to confirm the validity of their existence. I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to do much in terms of potentially reviewing this or not at all, but someone managed to find all three films on a Spanish or Portuguese website and saved them before the site went under. So, if you want to see these, I’ll provide a link at the end for you to get a taste of the action.

Now, onto the first installment...

________________________________________

Judging from just the release dates alone, my guess is that it tried to follow the train of titles of the 1990′s and the dawning of the new millenium; so Traces of Death, The Many Faces of Death, and Death File. There’s a bit of a saying that once you’ve seen one of these films, you’ve seen all of them, and in a way it’s true.

A good portion of shockumentaries are just recycled and repurposed clips and archived footage from other shockumentaries and documentaries, and after one uses something fresh to bring to the table, it’s dead on arrival and bloated up the river by the time it gets in the hands of others to spread around. For some, this can kill the mood and experience if you’re seeing rehashed films you’ve already seen before and you know what to expect. For others, they don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing or wholly disappointing. But, hey, to each their own I suppose. I guess that’s up to you with where you sit on the matter. This also rings true for the topic of narratiors and whether or not they add to the scenes or take away from it, with a sort of set in stone range from traditional documentary style narrations by Dr. Francis B. Gross and Dr. Flellis of the Faces of Death series and the brutal, in your face of Darrin Ramage and Dr. Vincent van Gore of Traces of Death and Faces of Gore, respectively.

I bring this up, particularlly the topic of narrators because you won’t find that here - well, sort of, and it goes hand-in-hand with the old saying.

_________________________________________

Exteme Life & Death: Part One is as simple and bare bones as they come, which is strange to say for a niche subgenre where the raw heart of the matter is just a showcase of death, carnage, destruction, and the like. I say that because others of its kind have more, I guess you can say, substance to them in the form of a soundtrack, narration, or chapters to help steer things along to be more organized. However, these things are noticably abscent from the film if it wasn’t previously supplied with the archived footage.

In a similar manner to how I talked about The Act of Seeing With Ones Own Eyes in my review of Le Poéme, this will either make for a rather boring watch or something more intimate and direct with the viewer because it throws you right into the heart of it with no filler. On the other hand, this can also make the film appear to be more a more cheap, thoughtless, and lazy cash-in with it’s rough, copy-and-paste style of editing. It’s really just a matter of preference for what you’re into, I suppose. While I can understand not providing either for emotion or context as a means to just push the viewer into the chaos of the scenes, I don’t get having the ability to do so out of being cheap or incompetent - which feels to be more of the case, at least in my opinion.

My process for coming to this conclusion comes in the form of many of the scenes provided, which have been recycled from previous shockumentaries of times gone by. While those films provide exposition for their origins, this film uses black and white captions to tell the limited background information instead. For example, one of the more notable scenes comes in the form of firing squad execution footage that was smuggled out of Iraq sometime in the early 1990′s. This scene has been repurposed and reused in other films with exposition, but this time around we just get a similar copy-and-paste style method of explaining what’s going on. Whether or not this cheapens or degrades the experience is up to you, because, then again, there’s the crowd that found the narration and delivery method for the early Traces of Death films to be so boring that Damon Fox was told people would just mute the film and blast their death metal albums over it.

So, enough on this topic. What can one expect if they want to see this?

I feel that the opening sequences tells you what exactly we’re in for as far as quality goes, which is that of a woman walking around a cemetery sobbing as she throws herself onto the tombstones to mourn. It feels rather cheap and forced, which doesn’t really help it that much at all. The editing style feels rather sloppy as the scenes don’t really have much direction for them as far as how they’ve organized things. To go back to Faces of Death, we have general chapters that attempt to string things along in a seamless transition; with natural disasters, animal cruelty, capitol punishment, and human atrocities being served up. Here, it feels like there’s no rhyme or reason for the direction things want to go. So, it’s not out of line to see air show disaster footage one moment and then something unrelated the next with no explanation. The footage in question isn’t particularly graphic either and is relatively on the tame side compared to other films; with some of the more gruesome scenes being that of a city block after a potential bombing, a corpse discovered in the jungles of Nicaragua, and last rites given to a man who was fatally hit by a truck.

_________________________________________

So, with all of that being said, what do I think about this one? Honestly, I don’t know. In a way, it does try to hold up on its own with trying to stand out compared to it’s bloody brothers and sisters, so I can’t say it didn’t at least try. Well, maybe “try” is a bit generous.

I’m not sure.

There’s a part of me that thinks it did it’s job alright, and there’s another that feels like it didn’t want to bother putting in the additional effort to really push things to the limit or reach it’s full potential - plus, the title alone can give you an impression as to what it’s trying to do and whether or not you feel that’s a good thing is up to you. I want to say that if the makers went there to at least give us something a bit extra (as a treat), like music or even a mediocre narrator, this could have been more of a recognized name...even if that in of itself is weird enough. It makes me wonder how many people followed in the steps of early Traces of Death viewers and just flipped on their goregrind albums to add anything at all to the experience.

Now, it’s up for you to decide what to make of this. If there’s enough interest, I can attempt to do reviews for the other two parts, even if it means repeating myself. If you want to get a glimpse of what I was talking about, you can view all three parts over on the Internet Archive that got added back in September 2019. If you’re into shockumentaries, then I’d say to give it a watch at some point, even if it’s just to say you’ve officially seen everything. For those who are new to the subgenre, then I’d say you would be in good hands to start with something like this if Faces of Death is too much for you - even if a good chunk of the franchise is recreated footage. However, if you’re into shockumentaries and this hasn’t swayed any opinion you have, then don’t fret because you won’t lose much sleep if you pass on this one.

RATING: 3/10

[lairofsentinel]

Author Meme

Author Name: AsunderWolf

Fandoms You Write For: Usually I write one multichaptered fic of each fandom I get into in a wild way, and their holes or ending do not satisfy me. I tend to write “fix-it” of “fill-in-the-hidden-scenes” fics. I don’t like AUs. Fandoms: Dreamfall Chapters, World of Darkness [vampires and mages], The Technomancer, Ace Attorney, Divinity Original sin 2, Moebius: Empire Rising [nobody knows this game XD]. I have in my computer a terrible +52 chapter fic of Mass Effect in Spanish [working in science and having Mass Effect to explore the “reality” of exotic matter as the one responsible of biotic powers made me go too out of control. It ended up in a heavy scientific fic that has no real purpose, after all someone will read a fic to enjoy a story, not to learn physics XD].  I also wrote scraps of Skyrim scenes that I was thinking to gather in a big fic, with a main character I hate, as a challenge for me to write something too alien of my style, and... it didn’t go well [the attempt is in my tumblr tag section]. I also have small fics of Dragon Age, but when I was practising English, so they are disastrous [also in the tag section of my tumblr]. I also wrote an original story [a trilogy] of a rock band in Spanish, and a long fic of Sailor Moon, in Spanish too.

Where You Post: Mostly on AO3. I used to publish in Fanfiction.net.

Most Popular One-Shot: The only one I have: Shattered Hope [The Technomancer]. That final scene of the game broke me. 

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Looming Truths [Ace Attorney], even though I'm not sure how much I should trust in the “hit count”.

Favorite Story You Wrote: Looming Truths. It was just so wild and broad in characters and plot and subplots and all the detective-like content. I love when things are so out of control. It’s a love-hate feeling. Also, this story was my first proper English fic, so... it had a lot of work in terms of language. Even though I don't  like at all how it was written. If I could rewrite it again, it would be better for my taste, I think. By now, I'm loving the serie  About Feathers and Claws [Divinity Original Sin 2].

Story You Were Nervous to Post: About Feathers and Claws [Divinity Original Sin 2]. I'm writing a char with a sensitive background, trying to break the tropes that I usually see in fics when it comes to a char like him. I deeply dislike the concept of “once you meet the right person, all your trauma disappears”. Nothing could be further from the truth.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: In general, at the end of the fic. Once I finished the fic itself [or maybe I still have to work in editing it], so I try to recall the main symbols of the fic, or if there is not such a thing, something that will work like a metaphor of what I've written. Sometimes, it's a symbol related to the main characters.

Do You Outline: Yes. Everything. When I start thinking in a fic, I already know how I want to finish it. With what event it will end. The problem is to write it later, but I know how the main plot works. That’s key to keep you writing and not lost in weird “blocks”. I also do a separated outline of subplots that I interweave with the main plot. Everything has to be clear so I do not repeat scenes, information, and the plot develops with each chapter.

Complete: Everything I start publishing is already finished. I just give them a last revision while publishing [if I have not the luxury of a betareader], that's the reason why I don’t publish all the chapters at once.This is my completion-compulsion working, the reason why I will watch terrible bad shows only for the sake of completing them, or read bad things to the end, or play terrible things. Sometimes it’s a true waste of time.

In-Progress: I could say it's About Feathers and Claws [Divinity Original Sin 2]. I’m writing the last chapters of the last part of the serie.

Coming Soon: About Feathers and Claws [Divinity Original Sin 2]. Polishing the last part of the serie: Divine Doom. I’ve set free many problems in this story, and gathering at the end is... truly a pain in the ass.

Do You Accept Prompts: In general, no. I don't like writing short loosen scenes and publish them. I do write them, but they are all gathered in a big archive of my computer where I go every time I need to write a scene of something I've already thought, so I have the scene in a draft version, ready to edition. This is useful considering I tend to write a lot of draft scenes in my commuting [it takes me 4 hours a day], so my tablet has a lot of these scenes that could be considered prompts, but I won’t publish them unless it’s in a big fic.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: It's always the story I'm writing at that moment, in this case, About Feathers and Claws [Divinity Original Sin 2].

I tag @matsuorka, @naromoreau , @a-tear-in-the-veil , @dark-rose89  , if you want to do it, no obligation, of course.

[potter-loves-malfoy]

21 Questions

Thanks for tagging me! @the-cellar-spiral

Rules: answer the 21 questions, then tag 21 people you want to know better.

Nicknames: Gem, mostly my mom calls me cicoş (pronounced gee-joh-sh) for some reason unknown to me, it’s not an actual word, even in Turkish.

Last movie I saw: Mulan literally like 30 minutes ago

Last thing I googled: Turkish keyboard (to type cicoş)

Favorite musician: Can I pick 3? I don’t care I’m doing it. Panic! At The Disco, Troye Sivan and Hayley Kiyoko

Song stuck in my head: I’m so tired... – lauv ft. Troye Sivan, LISTEN TO IT ITS GREAT

Other blogs: I’m @oreosaregay but that's mostly shitposts and reblogs at this point but that's technically my “main” blog 

Do I get asks: yeah, mostly about fics tho! I do kinda wish people sent me more asks about personal shit cuz y’all know I love oversharing

Following: UM A LOT idek at this point (360 apparently)

Amount of sleep: ummm usually around 7 hours? but sometimes it’s like 4 and sometimes its 15 ((HOW AM I ALIVE))

Lucky number: I don’t think I have one? 9 has always been my favourite number for some reason tho??

What I’m wearing: Right now? Um a towel I just got out of the shower whoops

Dream job: I’ve always just really wanted to be a singer or like a Broadway actor or an actor in movie musicals, I do think I’m more suited to musicals than just straight up singing too so there's that

Dream trip: ooooh um Eastern Asia, also Hawaii, the Caribbean, Australia and England (London specifically) not in any particular order. I love travelling and I’ve been a bunch of places, mostly Europe and North America also Russia once, but I always want to see more places!

Favorite food: this Turkish dish called manti, specifically the one that my grandma makes here’s a link that probably explains it better than I can (it’s not Wikipedia woop)

Play any instruments: I played violin when I was younger but have not touched a violin in years but now I just I sing a lot and I guess I was in choir for a long time back in middle/high school.

Languages: Turkish, English, French and Spanish. My Spanish and French need A LOT of practice though

Favorite songs: OH NO 

UM

IDK

Roaring 20s – P!ATD

Dying In LA – P!ATD

Nearly Witches – P!ATD

Lying Is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off – P!ATD (gotta love old panic with the long AF titles)

Literally the entirety of Bloom (the album) – Troye Sivan

HEAVEN – Troye Sivan 

BLUE – Troye Sivan

Revelation – Troye Sivan, Jónsi

Feelings – Hayley Kiyoko

Gravel to Tempo – Hayley Kiyoko

Cliffs Edge – Hayley Kiyoko

Feeding The Fire – Hayley Kiyoko

Maple – Hayley Kiyoko

Shaketramp – Marianas Trench 

Good To You – Marianas Trench 

This Means War – Marianas Trench 

We Should Be Friends – Josh Ramsay

Random fact: I hate pretty much all kinds of cheese. I will literally only eat mozzarella, cream cheese and parmesan, parmesan is weird cuz it’s stinky so I technically should not like it

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: fairy lights, black cigarettes, black flower crowns, black lace, leather, an empty theatre, polaroids, fun coloured hair, matte black lipstick

a lot of black as you can see

Tag: So I’ve seen a bunch of people do this already, if you have IGNORE ME 

@ispyblu @oronka @bangyababy @hamhammoody @ourrsj33  @cubedcoffeecake @randoyoyo and anyone else that wants to do this

Wow i really dont ever talk to people do i 

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 6

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[Tag with all chapters up here.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: you know you’re a complete dick when two novices and a fake priest show at your doorstep to beat the crap out of you. (Art in this chapter is by Dara and @senoraluna!)

***

It didn’t take too long for things to settle into a routine.

Miguel had known no one would question the altar boy spending a lot of time with the parish priest – after all, they assumed he’d taken him under his wing to share teachings and whatnot; just the opposite of what was going on – but he had feared Héctor would say something about it. Along with the fact he was spending a lot of time with Padre Ju-- Father John, because now for some reason he wanted to learn English, it drastically reduced the amount of time they got to spend together.

And instead, he hadn’t said anything. They still met up often to play and sing, and Ernesto joined them – something the congregation had been surprised to find out at first, but hadn’t argued against – but Héctor’s mind seemed to be elsewhere. It was like he hadn’t even noticed how little time Miguel actually spent with him now, and it stung a bit… but it was for the best.

As long as that did mean he was thinking about Imelda, which he wasn’t entirely sure of.

“Are you sure he said nothing about her at all?”

“No, muchacho. If he had, I would have remembered to tell you. You ask something like four times a day,” Ernest muttered, flipping through the pages of the book. Miguel had to admit he was impressed by how good his memory was, how easily he memorized and repeated words he didn’t understand. It had taken Miguel a year as the altar boy to learn everything at heart; Ernesto was already almost there, and it had only been a couple of weeks.

“Not even in confession?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I would have recognized his voice, and plus no one I heard from lately confessed to anything nearly as saucy as wanting to bang a nun.”

Miguel blinked. “… Why would he want to shoot her?” he asked, and Ernesto gave a guffawing laugh.

“Hah! Sorry, kid, I forget-- er. I mean, no one has confessed to anything nearly as saucy as wishing to marry a nun. Though you wouldn’t believe the amount of chicken-stealing that goes on in this town.”

That made Miguel chuckle. “Confession should be a secret.”

“I’m not naming any names. I don’t get to see whoever is confessing, remember?”

“Still!”

“For the record, one of the sisters stole some candy that was meant for you at the orphanage.”

“What??”

“Do what you will with this information. I made her say twenty Hail Mary. If it helps, she felt bad.”

“As she should!” Miguel protested. It was pretty rare for them to get any candy at all; that someone would take it from them was a horrible injustice. Ernesto seemed to notice his scowl, and pushed the almost empty glass of wine over to him on the table. “Come on, have a sip. Won’t tell if you don’t.”

Well, that almost made up for the loss of candy. Miguel took the sip, held back a grimace – the taste was awful, but it wasn’t about that; it was about getting to say he drank it – and looked back down at the book. “At this rate, you’ll be able to say Mass next Sunday. The Easter one for sure!”

“Good. I’ve had it with Padre Culo Blanco’s bore fest. There are only so many times you can stand being told you’re going to hell before lunch time,” Ernesto scoffed, then shrugged. “He’s not bothering me, at least.”

“I heard Sister Sofía say that he’s avoiding you. He gets out real quick if he hears you coming.”

“… She mentioned as much to me as well, yes,” was the reply. “Maybe he’s afraid I’ll infect him with my lack of proper Catholicism, but works for me. He seems to have picked Héctor as his victim. I mean, pupil.”

“Héctor says he goes along because he wants to learn English.”

“Why would anyone?”

“Beats me,” Miguel said, then paused a moment before speaking again, unable to keep his concern out of his voice. “What if he told Pa-- Father John, and he’d telling him to stick to his vows?”

“Then it will be a pleasure to undo his holy work,” Ernesto muttered, and Miguel smiled a bit. It had been a real stroke of luck, getting an ally like him. A lot of people agreed that Héctor and Imelda should at least give it a try, but none of them was in the position of authority Ernesto held. “Is there any way you can get him to talk to you? He’s acting weird. I want to know if it’s about Imelda.”

“I’ll offer to lend an ear, since he looks troubled,” Ernesto said, and frowned. “What about this Imelda? I have only seen her from afar. So-- Sister Sofía says she’s been acting odd.

“I’m not sure,” Miguel admitted, unable to keep some disappointment from seeping into his voice. “She’s with the other nuns most of the time, and there are so many of us in the orphanage – I don’t really get to spend much time with her these days.”

“Did you use to?”

“Oh yes, before she became a novice! I played with her brothers. She was a bit stern, but really nice to me. I’m sure she’d be a good mamá,” he added, only to pause and blush when he realized he’d said too much. “I mean-- not that I need-- she’s not that much older than me...” he babbled, and shifted on his chair when Ernesto raised an eyebrow, “I mean… to any kids she and Héctor may have.”

“… You’re hoping they’ll get you out of the orphanage, huh?” Ernesto said quietly, and Miguel nodded. There was a sudden lump in his throat, and he tried to hold back some tears.

“It’s not that important. I really think they would be happy together. They can’t be my parents, you know? More like older siblings. They’re only… maybe twelve years older than me. I don’t need parents. I’ll be out in a few years anyway, and… it’s not that bad, it just isn’t...” Miguel sniffled, and reached up to wipe his eyes. “It’s not that bad,” he added, trying with some success to keep his voice firm. It wasn’t a lie. Most of the time it really wasn’t bad - it was just how things were. But sometimes, when he tried to imagine having what he never got… sometimes it hurt.

There was a pause, then a chuckle, and Ernesto reached to ruffle his hair. “Chin up, niño. We still have time to get them to see the light. I’ll get Héctor out of the clutches of the Holy Church and into the trap of holy matrimony if it’s the last thing I do.”

That caused Miguel to laugh a bit. He was already feeling a bit better. “Heh. Is it really a trap?”

“Oh, yes. A very tight snare, but hey, there are people who walk in it happily. As there are people who willingly take the vows. I’d do neither unless I had a rifle up my-- at my temple, but you know. Judge not, lest you be judged.”

A grin. “Spoken like a real priest.”

“Either you’re a good teacher, or Padre Juan is contagious,” Ernesto quipped with a laugh before finally looking down at the book. “All right, let’s see if I can remember this one...”

***

“… And these are the irregular verbs. You will need to memorize them, but other than that it’s pretty straightforward – far more logical than Spanish.”

For the seventeenth time since lunch, when he’d been subjected to not at all casual comments about Father John’s distaste for secular music - Héctor had to fight an overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “I see,” he said instead, and smiled, teeth clenched. The man’s sermons were bad but God, he somehow managed to be even more condescending while teaching English – and the fact he didn’t seem to be aware of it made it even worse, somehow. “I’ll do my best to memorize them ahead of the next lesson.”

Father John smiled, as always entirely oblivious of how eager his pupil was to be out of there. “You are a very quick learner. I took more time than that to learn any Spanish, despite the fact I had heard it spoken by servants while growing up.”

God, give me patience. If you give me strength, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.

“I see,” Héctor said, his voice a bit tighter than he should have allowed it to be, and Padre Juan seemed to pick that up, because for once he actually had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“I… I meant nothing by it, I simply… I grew up fairly close to the border, and--” he trailed off, suddenly even more uncomfortable. Of course he would be: he’d all but admitted that he’d been born and raised on land stolen from Mexico. Fitting, that.

Despite the annoyance, Héctor couldn’t help but feel somewhat bad for him, so he decided to put him out of his misery with a smile and a quip. “You grew up in northern Mexico, you mean,” he said, and the anxious expression on that round, white face faded in a relieved smile.

“Heh. I suppose,” he said, and hesitated for a moment before reaching into a drawer at his small desk. He pulled out a small book that seemed close to falling apart, and handed it to him. “I kept forgetting to give this to you – it’s my dictionary, so that you can look up any word in English if you wish to. I no longer…” a pause, and he made a face. “I rarely need it now.”

… Well, now that was going to be useful, if he was ever to attempt translating that letter – given that he would be able to get his hands on it in the first place. Maybe he should speak to Sofía about it. “Oh, thank you. This will be… very helpful.”

Unaware of his thoughts, Father John Johnson smiled. “You’re quite welcome. You have a lot of potential – I am sure you’ll lead a congregation down the right path, one day.”

“Oh, I do hope so,” Héctor said, smiling back, but it was with a sudden sense of dread, a weight on his chest telling that maybe, just maybe, he actually did not. “But perhaps Padre Ernesto would benefit as well, you know? I could suggest he joins us here,” he added.

He’d meant it partly as an attempt to change subject, partly as a jest at Padre Ernesto’s expenses – unfair, how he was spared that guy’s company despite being the parish priest – and he wasn’t prepared for the reaction it got him: Padre Juan grew even paler, like he’d causally suggested he should put a rattlesnake down his shirt. He blinked, taken aback.

“Father John? Are you all right?”

The other man blinked, and nodded quickly. A neutral expression was back on his face, as quickly as it had slipped off. “I doubt Father Ernest would take on the offer,” he said, his voice somewhat stiff. “I… my apologies. My head spun for a moment. It might be best for me to rest.”

“Would you like to see a doctor?”

“No, thank you,” Father John replied, and smiled almost like he meant it. “I’ll be fine with a bit of rest. I apologize for the concern I caused.”

Héctor reassured him there was no need to apologize, but he was extremely relieved when he finally walked out of the door, holding the dictionary to his chest and with a rather confused frown.

Inside the room, John Johnson stared at the wooden door for a few moments, lost in thought – those awful, awful thoughts – before he locked it and walked up to the chest of drawers with heavy steps, unbuttoning the cassock. He bared his torso before kneeling and opening the bottom drawer, already uttering a prayer under the silent gaze of the crucifix on the wall.

The familiar weight of the whip in his hand was a cold, cold comfort.

*** 

With all messages placed – under a flower pot for the seamstress, at the Gonzalez crypt for the gravedigger, inside the box of offerings for Imelda or Sister Gisela or whatever the hell she wanted to be called now – his work for the day was done. He should return to his regular duties so that no one would suspect a thing, and he would… but first, there was something else he wanted to take care of.

Looking after a horse was time-consuming, smelly, and definitely an extra chore he did not need. Besides, what use did a parish priest have for such a fine horse? None, that was it. There were others, however, who could put it – Dante, Padre Ernesto called it – to a better use.

He had time; no one would look for him for another couple of hours. No one looked for him unless they needed something from him, after all. Ungrateful bastards, all of them.

Glancing around to ensure no one was there to see him, Gustavo walked silently behind the church and towards the stable.

*** 

He was not in a good state of mind to hold confession; John had no problem acknowledging it.

Beneath the cassock, his back throbbed horribly. He had prayed, he had cleansed himself, and then he’d been torn from his thoughts by a knock at his door and a request to hold confession that day - something on how Father Ernest’s horse had gone missing, and he’d gone looking for it. John could hardly believe the man had put a horse above his holy duty, but perhaps he should stop letting it surprise him. He’d sighed, and taken on the task.

Most confessions concerned minor sins, but this one - this woman - wasn’t seeking to confess as much as she was looking for advice, although what she had in mind had to be a sin.

“You wish to leave your marital home. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I… I must, Padre. For my safety. He was always a… a difficult man, but since his mother died… last night he lost his mind, and… he left marks, and I… I feared he wouldn’t stop until--”

John scoffed, causing her to trail off. Such weakness, such low moral fiber, trying to flee at the first sign of hardship! “Did you not take that man as your husband?”

“I did, but--”

“In sickness and in health, for richer or poorer? You took a sacred oath, binding you for life!”

There was a hiccupping sob. “He also promised to love and honor me, Padre. And he… he does not…” her voice broke, and for a few moments there were only tears.

Father John Johnson was not, contrary to popular belief, made of stone. The woman’s plight did stir something in his chest. He closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath to keep his focus, and reached under his right sleeve. Across his forearm, there was a thin raised scar - the mark of the one and only attempt he had made to shield himself from rightful punishment, twelve years earlier; such insolence from his part, a boy thinking he knew better than a wise man he’d angered thought his failings. He traced it with his fingers, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

“Clearly, your failings caused anger.”

“No, I… I am sure I have many failings, Padre, but this time I had done nothing. He flew into a rage for no reason--”

“The anger of the head of a family is never without reason,” John all but snarled, causing the woman to fall silent. He regretted his harshness, but not his words. It was a simple fact - the head of the family had a duty to discipline. It was right. It was not out of cruelty, it couldn’t be.

It hadn’t been out of cruelty. John couldn’t stand to think otherwise.

He was right. He sought to correct me. “He meant to correct you, certainly,” he finally spoke again, his voice calm. On the other side of the confessional, the woman was weeping. A sign of guilt - he had wept, too - but he couldn’t stay indifferent to it. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “You need to ask God for guidance on how to better yourself.”

“I try,” the woman choked out. “I do, Padre! But nothing I do is enough, and I fear he may… one day, if he doesn’t stop-- I don’t fear death, but we have little children, I can’t leave them behind--”

“It is for the sake of those children that you need to mend what is broken. Your foolish idea to leave the marital home goes against the Bible - urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. And you’d turn your back to that? Taking the children from their father--” he paused, and something in his throat made it hard to force the next words out. “No child should leave their home, unless… unless forced.”

Father, I beg you. I’m trying-- I’ve been praying, I will overcome... I-if this is a test He put on my path, I am sure that with your guidance-- Mother, please, I’m sorry...!

His back burned now as it had burned then. John leaned against the side of the confessional, and the pressure made him feel faint - but it steeled his resolve, cleared his mind of doubt and misplaced pity. Through the haze of pain, his voice rang out firm. “You must endure.”

“I…” her voice faltered, so thin and pained. “It’s so hard, Padre.”

“The Lord puts hurdles in our path. Anyone can do their duty when it’s easy. But each step you take away from your place will take you farther away from God. Think of that, and pray to the Holy Virgin for guidance,” he added. He was meant to give absolution, now, but he did not. After all, that had hardly been a confession; she had asked for advice, had received it, and it was up to her to either follow it or defy God’s will. "Give thanks to the Lord for He is good.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, a shaky whisper - “for His mercy endures forever” - and then then the woman stood, and stepped away. No one else came to kneel at the confessional, but John sat in there for a long time afterwards, eyes shut, pressing his back against the wooden wall.

He needed to confess himself, too; he had gone too long without doing so, and he had sinned in thought; no amount of payer or self-inflicted penance could replace absolution from another priest. He wouldn’t be worthy of saying Mass or even receive the holy bread until he receive it… but there was one priest in that town who may confess him, one priest only, and he couldn’t confess it all to him. Father Ernest would know it was him; his accent would give him away the moment he he let out his voice spoke the unspeakable.

And John found the idea more unbearable than any punishment he could inflict upon himself.

***

In such dark times, it wasn’t so rare for somebody to break down on the steps of the church.

Especially when funerals were held, Imelda had seen it happening with widows and widowers, people burying their sister or brother. She had seen children mourning their parents and, most heartbreaking of all, parents mourning their children. Sometimes they wept quietly, sometimes they sobbed loudly. The woman sitting on the steps leading to the courtyard her children were playing in along with a few orphans - Fernanda Rodríguez, she recognized her as she stepped closer - was definitely trying to be silent, and utterly failing at it.

Thankfully, none of the children noticed - much less Fernanda’s own. Imelda and Sofía quickly ushered her inside, offered her a glass of water, and managed to calm her down enough to explain what had happened. Once she did explain, Imelda was ready to murder two men: her husband for reducing her in that state, and the gringo for telling her she had to endure.

“Let me go, Sofía, I just want to talk--”

“No you don’t,” she cut her off, holding her arm tighter. Her voice was a low hiss. “Sebastián Rodríguez wouldn’t be above trying to wring your neck, too. And Padre Juan--” she made a face. “Well. I’d like to see that, but he’s saying nothing most other priest wouldn’t.”

“No, that’s not true!” Héctor would never. “He--”

“Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord,” Sofía snapped. “For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he--”

Imelda snarled, turning to glare at her. “What’s with the lesson? You agree with none of it.”

“But the Church does. You go confront the gringo, he writes of it to someone higher up, and--” Sofía began, only to suddenly pause… and then let go of her arm. “... Come to think of it, go right ahead. Might be the quickest way to ensure you never get to take the vo--”

“What-- Imeld-- I mean, Sister Gisela? Sister Sofía? What’s happening?”

Héctor’s confused voice caused Sofía to trail off, and Imelda turned. He was in the doorway, standing far closer than they’d been in some time, but Imelda was too furious to care.

“Rodríguez happened!” she spat, venom in her voice. “He decided to beat Fernanda, again! It’s like he tried to strangle her, and the gringo-- when she turned to the confessional for help, he told her to endure - that it was her fault! If he kills her, it will be on his head!”

Héctor blinked again, as though struggling to take in the words - then, slowly, his expression darkened. By the time she paused to draw breath, she was almost taken aback to see a fury that matched her own. Somewhere in the back of her mind, there was a cry of triumph.

Héctor would never!

“... Is Fernanda here?” Héctor asked, slowly. “Her children?”

“She’s in there - we let her have some time alone. Her children are playing outside.”

A nod. “Good,” Héctor muttered, and turned to march down the hallway, fists clenched.

“Héctor, wait!” Sofía called. “Get Padre Ernesto to talk to the gringo, he will have to listen--”

“He can deal with Padre Juan,” Héctor replied, marching out. “I’m paying a visit to Sebastián.”

As both Imelda and Sofía blinked, speechless, they could hear a familiar voice suddenly ringing out. “Oh, here you are! Where are you going in such a rush? About to waste more of your ti--”

“Get the hell out of my way, Gustavo!”

There was a surprised yelp, more steps, and then silence. Sofía turned to Imelda.

“I’m not saying he’s a man to marry,” she said. “But, if he survives, he is a man to marry.”

For once, Imelda had no retort.

***

It was just a horse.

The voice echoing in the back of his mind sounded aggravatingly like his father’s and, even worse, he knew it was telling the truth. Dante was just a horse; after what he had been through and what he had seen, in the barracks and in conflict - after all he’d had to get used to - the fact he had disappeared shouldn’t bother him that much. He may have stuck with him through thick and thin, carried him across a desert, made him laugh when he grew stubborn and had to be bribed with food - but he was just a horse.

And yet, he was his horse; the sight of that empty stable, with no sign of him anywhere, had far more than he liked to admit. Ernesto tried to tell himself that maybe he’d just wandered out, maybe the stable wasn’t shut properly. He really wanted to believe it, because it meant Dante may be back later, and that space aching cold in his chest would cease to be.

Meanwhile, he’d find Gustavo and grill him over what the hell happened, how could he let it happen, how come he couldn’t even close a fucking door right.

At least, that had been the intention - but, the moment Sofía rushed down the stairs to meet him, he coud tell there was something urgent going on. Namely that Brother Héctor had apparently decided to tempt his fate by confronting a guy who, according to her account, was the size of a bull and with a temper to match.

“... He’d break him over his knee, and Imelda won’t be able to keep it from happening!”

“Imeld-- the novice? She went with him?”

“Ran after him, really. Which I sort of hoped she’d do someday, but... not like this.”

“And I’m supposed to put a stop to whatever is about to happen?” Ernesto asked, but of course he already knew the answer, and he didn’t like it. Goddammit, he didn’t want to get into a fight. That hadn’t been part of the plan, never mind the fact there hadn’t really been any plan at all. He didn’t want any sort of trouble, but it seemed to be following him like an orphan dog. And speaking of orphans, hadn’t Miguel told him that damn town was a quiet place?

“Unless you want to hold a funeral or two, yes,” Sister Sofía was saying, as he knew she would.

Ernesto did his utmost to hold back a groan. Miguel wouldn’t like it at all, seeing the two lovebirds have a joint funeral rather than a wedding. Plus, of course he was supposed to get involved, being the parish priest and all. It was a damn mess and of course, of course Padre Juan was to blame. If he didn’t get his face smashed by the village blacksmith first, Ernesto would make sure to have words with that accursed gringo. “Fine. Fine. What’s the guy’s house?”

A nod. “It’s the house with the black gate, at the end of the main road and then on the left - it’s a bit isolated and the only house with a gate like that, you can’t go wrong,” she added. “I’ll stay here with Fernanda and her children.”

“Not coming for moral support?”

“You have my thoughts and prayers.”

“Gracias. That’s absolutely useless.”

“... And possibly something else, if you do come back in one piece.”

“That’s… slightly better.”

“Good. Now go do your holy duty. Or something.”

As he turned to run - another thing he hated doing; he could dance for hours, but running just about killed him - Ernesto thought, bitterly, that he could get there so much faster if only Dante wasn’t missing.

***

Later on, Héctor would laugh about what had happened, about Chicharrón's grumbles that he'd seriously miscalculated Rodríguez's size, and his odds to come out a winner. He'd say that he was right, he'd miscalculated, but of course that wasn't really it and Cheech had to know it, deep down. Héctor had known well that, if a fight broke out, he’d go down and would go down fast.

The thing was, he was too angry to care.

"SEBASTIÁN! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! OPEN THIS DOOR!"

It took some banging, and the door opened, letting out a string of profanities about being awakened at that ungodly hour - namely, eleven in the morning. Sebastián Rodriguez was as tall as Héctor but far wider, with the broad shoulders, deep chest and muscular arms that come with being a blacksmith. He’d been handsome, once, and maybe he still was, but it was hard to see it through the reddened skin, the bloodshot eyes and stubble covering sagging cheeks.

He looked all the world like an angry mastiff, and the thought Fernanda had been told to take her children and just return under his roof, at his mercy, made Héctor’s blood boil.

“Shut up!” he snapped, causing the man’s stream of curses to stop. Sebastián looked very confused for a moment, as though the fact someone - let alone a novice around half his weight - could scream at him had never crossed his mind, as unlikely as the sun rising from the West. Before he had time to process it, Héctor pushed him back, causing him to stumble back inside his living room - an impossible feat if he hadn’t been too stunned to react. “You’ve hit your wife for the last time, cabrón!”

The mention of his wife seemed to finally snap him out of his confusion, and he scowled. "What did that puta go around to say?" he growled. "The lying bruja, can't even keep a clean house. Did she run to the church? And what are you going to do, little priest?" his scowl turned into a very ugly smile, and he jabbed his middle finger painfully against Héctor's chest. "I'll tell you what I'll do. You go back and tell her that unless she wants me to give her a very good reason to cry, she will be back ten minutes ago and start getting my lunch rea--"

SMACK.

Héctor may not look like it, but he knew how to pack a punch: you don't spend your childhood in an orphanage and occasionally in the streets without learning a thing or two. He felt the blow all the way up to his shoulder, but he didn't care: all he could focus on was the grim satisfaction when Sebastián staggered back, holding a hand up to his nose, which was already gushing blood. There would be hell to pay, but oh, was it worth--

Retaliation came fast, faster than it could be expected from a guy that size. It hit him in the face, quite literally, before the sense of triumph had even faded. Suddenly there was blood on his tongue, his head bounced off the wall behind him, and the ground rushed up to meet him.

Héctor gasped, dazed; something small and hard fell out of his mouth along with a mouthful of blood. He tried to stand, but a sudden kick to his stomach sent him sprawling, knocking all air out of his lungs. He gasped, looking up to see Sebastián bringing up a booted foot.

"Pinche cabrón! I'll teach you to mind your own goddamn bus-- aaagh!"

Something flew through the air, hitting him straight on the already bloody nose. He let out a cry of pain, stepping back... and then froze, staring at something past Héctor like he couldn't believe his eyes.

"What the-- has the entire world gone mad?" he blurted out, once again too stunned to do anything but standing there, staring. Héctor groaned, turning to look up... and then froze, the expression on his bloodied face probably not too different from Sebastián’s. Standing above him in her white robes and headdress, a shoe in her hand and a scowl on her face, was Imelda.

No, no, no, what are you doing here? He's dangerous-- he won't hesitate--!

"Bastardo," Imelda spat, her voice so cold it sent chills down Héctor's spine. "You lay a hand on him, or your wife and children, or anyone else ever again, and you'll be very, very sorry.”

Sebastián blinked a couple of times and then, as Héctor had feared, the surprise gave way to something else - fury. His fists clenched, and Héctor made a supreme effort to stand up, if shakily, between the two of them. His ears buzzed, his face hurt, but he steadied himself.

"Imelda, go... go away."

"And let you get yourself turned into a wet spot on the floor?"

"I wasn't about to-- all right, maybe I was, but if you stay--"

"You just rushed here without any sort of plan, didn’t you?"

"Why, do you have one?"

"Well... no."

"See? You need to get out of he--."

"Not leaving you here, I'm no--"

"... Are you two done?" Sebastían asked in a low growl. “What the hell is even happening? Since when is it any of your business what a man does in his own damn house? You both get out of here this instant and send my wife back, or else--”

“Oh, señor Rodríguez! Buenos días. I was just looking for you!”

Both Héctor and Imelda turned to see Padre Ernesto walking in, a charming smile on his face that didn’t falter when he saw the blood on his face. Sebastián reached up to rub his head.

"Has the entire fucking Catholic church decided to meet in my house to tell me how to deal with my goddamn wife?" he blurted out. "Am I hallucinating this? First a novice punches me, then a nun throws a shoe at me, and now the parish priest shows up for a lecture?"

“Technically, she is also a novice,” Padre Ernesto said, still smiling, and reached to put a hand on Héctor’s shoulder. He gripped it more tightly than necessary. “My apologies for the intrusion. I believe it’s best for all of us if we return to the church, you return to… whatever you were doing, and we all forget this unpleasant incident, sí?”

“Fernanda is not coming back here,” Imelda snapped, and Héctor nodded in agreement.

"Not her, nor the children," he said, and glanced at Padre Ernesto. "Padre, please. You haven't seen what he did to her!"

"She's my wife!" Sebastián bellowed. "And I will do what I want with her until she learns!"

Padre Ernesto sighed, and let go of Héctor’s shoulder. "See, all of you said exactly what I feared you'd say," he muttered, turning to Sebastián. "Well, it seems there is only one way to solve this unfortunate mess," he added, getting himself a sneer.

"Oh? And what will you do, priest? Read a passage of the Bible, say a prayer, or--" he began, and never got to finish: Padre Ernesto was almost as tall as him, almost as broad, and moved just as fast. His fist collided with his face with a loud, satisfying crack, and this time the man didn't just stagger back: he fell like a sack of potatoes, howling curses and covering his face.

As he struggled to get back up under Héctor's stunned gaze, Padre Ernesto turned to them. The pleasant smile was still on his lips. "Ime-- Sister Gisela, I suppose? We never met properly."

Imelda raised an eyebrow, and a smile tugged her lips. “We have now. My pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Padre Ernesto replied, his voice so smooth, then he glanced at Héctor. In front of them, Sebastián was lifting himself up to his knees, sounding like a furious bull. “I don’t think the Lord’s message has quite sunk in. I might require your help, amigo.”

Slowly, Héctor smiled and cracked his knuckles. “Oh, my friend- you don’t even need to ask.”

*** 

“You mean, he just… left?”

“Yes. Awful, no? To leave town in such a rush, leaving behind a wife and children. But you know, he had this terrible bout of bad luck and clearly figured a change of air would do him good.”

“Bad… luck?”

“Oh, the worst luck,” Héctor said, turning to glance at Ernesto. “He fell down the stairs.”

“Into a door,” Ernesto added. “And just as he was getting up, he stepped on a rake.”

“Then stumbled back and fell on a chair.”

“And he was hit by a shoe.”

“That’s when he decided it was time to leave but imagine what rotten luck, a gust of wind slammed the front door right on his face.”

“Again.”

“I think it broke his nose.”

“Definitely broke his nose.”

“So he decided to just leave without taking anything.”

“Makes you wonder if he angered God. Can’t argue with His will.”

“We’ll be praying for him.”

“Huh? Oh, yes. Right. Intensely. May the Lord grant him peace and all that.”

“We let him know he’ll always be in our thoughts.”

“And that we’d look after his family very, very closely.”

“In case he returns.”

“He means, until he returns.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Good thing Ceci has offered Fernanda a job so she can keep supporting the kids, eh?”

Among the small crowd gathered outside the church, there were plenty of sceptical looks and some raised brows… but absolutely no protests. It looked like no one had really liked Rodríguez that much. Even so, of course someone just had to speak up.

“... And what happened to you?”

Ernesto and Héctor exchanged a glance. Ernesto probably didn’t look so good - he’d managed to fix his hair, but he was pretty sure his throbbing face would sport bruises for a while - and Héctor looked pretty awful, with an eye swollen shut, a bloodied nose and a split lip. Still, he grinned widely at him, showing off a gap where one of his front teeth had been knocked loose. Ernesto found himself responding with a grin of his own. Yes, he did like that guy.

“Well, it seems that bad luck is contagious. We tripped.”

“But nowhere as badly as poor señor Rodríguez did.”

“Now, can’t you see they need to get their injuries tended to?” Imelda suddenly spoke up. She’d been quiet for a while, having returned first - and without a scratch - to tell Sofía what had happened, and to keep people from knowing she’d been part of that awful string of bad luck. “Move along, let them get inside the church,” she was adding, and her gaze softened when she glanced at Héctor. “... I’ll see you at mass.”

“Of course,” Héctor replied, and Ernesto had to drag him up the steps before someone could notice the dumb, dreamy grin on his face.

*** 

“Oh, Father Ernest. I was wondering where you-- Father Ern-- Brother Hector! What in God’s name has happened to you?”

John’s voice came out as an undignified screech, but he couldn’t help it: he hadn’t expected to walk in the sacristy to find both men holding bloody towels, bruises blooming on their faces. He walked up to them in sudden alarm, entirely forgetting his own aching back, and the annoyance of having been left on his own to deal with confessions faded entirely.

“Were you… were you attacked? Good God, is there anything I can do to help?”

Father Ernest looked at him, and what would have been the most charming smile he’d ever seen, if not for the fact the fury beneath it was suddenly palpable, filling the whole room. It was then that he realized Brother Héctor was staring at him, too, his face an expressionless mask.

“There is something you can do to help, yes,” Father Ernest said, his voice smooth, and stepped forward. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word.”

“What is i--” John began, but he didn’t get to finish the sentence. Next thing he knew, a hand was around his throat and he was slammed against the wall with stunning force, turning his back into a mass of white-hot pain. He let out a strangled cry, unable to draw in enough breath to scream properly, and reached blindly to grasp Father Ernest’s wrist. Though a veil of tears, he could see him staring at him with something not too far away from disgust.

Oh God, oh my God, does he know? How could he…?

John tore his gaze away to glance at Brother Hector, to silently ask for help, but with growing dread he realized that no help would come from him: he looked as disgusted as Father Ernest.

“Listen here and listen close, Padre Juan,” Father Ernest all but snarled, staring at him right in the eyes. “Today’s confession of Fernanda Rodríguez was the last one you’ll ever do in this parish. You should count yourself lucky that we stepped in before she could follow your enlightened advice and go back home to that animal.”

… Wait, was that it? Despite the hand on his throat and the throbbing pain in his back, for  few moments relief was all he could feel… followed by mild surprise, and then anger. He had done nothing but his duty - how dare that man, that insult to Catholics everywhere, get his filthy hands on him and presume he could berate him for doing so? “What… what have you done?”

Father Ernest grinned. “What we had to,” he said. “Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.”

Hearing the words of his oder’s founder from him made John scowl. “This- this is not divine will!”

“So divine will is sending a woman back to a beast? Interesting.”

“I gave advice… aligned with the scriptures,” he wheezed. “If you ever even bothered to read-- a woman who fails to submit to her husband--”

“I don’t care,” Father Ernest growled, causing him to trail off. He was suddenly acutely aware of how close he was, how much stronger; it made his head spin, cold sweat on his brow. “Look what he did to us, cabrón! What do you think he’d have done to a woman the size of sparrow?”

“I-if she’d minded herself, as to not anger him--” John began, voice shaking, but a sudden tightening of the grip on his neck cut him off.

“Well, you mind yourself now, as to not anger me,” Father Ernest sneered. “You are a guest in this parish - my parish. I’m taking it back, and I suggest you remember that or leave. You’ll never even look at the confessionals again. Don’t bother with Mass this Sunday - I’ll take care of it. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

It was far from the first time John was threatened, and he should have reacted with defiance, told him he wasn’t surprised such a poor priest wouldn’t know what the scriptures said about man and wife; he should have threatened to write to the Archidiocesis to inform them of such insolence, and then followed through with it… but right there and then he could only think of how awfully close he was, and he suddenly feared that closeness more than his fury.

No no no no no. Please, no. Let me go.

Unaware of his desperate thoughts, Father Ernest was growling, “Have I, Padre Juan?”

“Y-yes!” John choked out. He was way, way past even thinking of correcting him on his name. It didn’t matter. He just needed out of there, away from him. “I won’t-- please, let me go!”

His broken voice caused the man to pause, looking down at him - and the tears of fear, pain and frustration in his eyes - for just a moment; then he snorted. “I have met cowards, but you beat them all,” he muttered, and let him go. Even more terrifyingly, he gave him a smooth smile the next moment, as though nothing happened. “Well, it’s all sorted, then. Thanks for hearing me out. You’re excused.”

“I--” John hesitated, back pulsing with pain, heart hammering in his chest, and thoughts in turmoil as he struggled to grasp what had just happened. He brought a hand to his neck. “You--”

You have made a mistake, he wanted to say. The Archidiocesis will know. The Archbishop will know. You’ll be sent away, or defrocked, you’ll regret this, you… you...

Words failed him, and he swallowed. His hand grasped the crucifix and he turned to look at Brother Hector, at the dried blood still on that blank face. A childish part of him screamed that it was unfair, it hadn’t been him to raise his hand on that woman. He’d never been violent or cruel, never harsher than required - never harsher to others than he was on himself. He was fair, and the farthest thing for a coward. He did what he had to do to serve God, even if it wasn’t easy.

Anyone can do their duty when it’s easy.

“I didn’t-- I wished harm to no one. The scriptures, I only advised--”

“I said you’re excused,” Father Ernest snapped, and that was it. Without even daring look in his general direction, trying to muster as much dignity as he could, John walked out of the sacristy as quick as possible - back to the safety of his room where his Bible, an old letter and his whip awaited, to help him get a hold of himself again. His back still hurt, but clearly not enough.

And once that was taken care of and his mind clearer, he’d think of his next move. He may not be wanted in that town, he may be hated by the clergy for some petty reason, but so was Christ and He did not turn back from his duty, so neither would he. He refused to leave a town in such desperate need for his help, in the hands of a priest who hardly deserved to be called such.

Father Ernest was not fit for his role, and he would need to go before he doomed the entire parish and corrupted even Brother Hector, the young man who showed so much promise. John had to protect him from such influence, and he would.

He had no power to remove a parish priest, of course, but someone else could. They would, once they knew what madness was going on in Santa Cecilia.

He just needed a pen, and paper.

***

[Back to Part 5]

[On to Part 7]

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01 E06

This is a bit of a weird episode, in that it feels like not much happened. Because Skam España switched a few things around, it seems like episode 6 shouldn’t be the episode in which to hang out with the characters for a while before shit goes down. But one thing that got me hooked to Skam almost straight away was the way you got to “hang out” with the characters even in small, drama-free moments, and this episode has a couple of clips I really like.

CLIP 1: Monday blues

Es que le metiste un corte (You were razor sharp with him): “Meter un corte” is really hard to translate. It basically means to be really cutting with someone when they aren’t expecting it, in a way that shuts the conversation for good. Which Amira did, over and over, but the dude wasn’t getting the hint.

I do think Nora feels a little bad for the guy, but only because Nora is extremely empathetic with everyone in the world, to the point where it’s surprising when she’s not empathetic.

Viri is a great liar. We will come to find out much of what she says in this scene is a lie, but she has no tells. This is why I think the Selena Gomez shoe line thing was Viri teasing the girls, because she broke character almost immediately. If Viri wanted the girls to believe it, we can see here that she would’ve managed.  

Nora’s shirt says, “No means no.” ‘No es no’ was first a slogan for an awareness campaign, promoted by several Spanish city halls, which aimed to curtail sexual abuse and rape during local festivals, such as Sanfermines. There’s also an Axel, Soledad song. And it has of course been slapped on all sorts of merchandise. Like shirts!

The sides of the mirror are tagged with graffiti, by the way.

And also, Eva and Nora are late for first period! They end up skipping it entirely.

CLIP 2: Lucas has feels; Eva’s are stronger

Eva and Lucas are listening to Molly Svrcina’s Fallen Angel. I think the point of the song was lost in how incredibly random the song is. This is a song Lucas recommends Eva listen to. It’s about Lucas, not Eva. Lucas is trying to give a hint to Eva about himself, but Eva’s too focused on the Jorge drama.

While this clip dropped during recess, Eva skipped school. Not sure if Lucas did as well, though.

It’s Viri who shares a birthday with Paris Jackson, as I already wrote in the post for last episode.

Alejandro Reina does a nice bit of acting with his eyes at the 5:22 mark. Lol, Lucas is so fucking tired of the Eva/Jorge drama carousel.    

Y tú me caes de puta madre (“And I think you’re fucking great”): Lucas is not just saying that he thinks Eva’s great. He’s saying he really fucking likes Eva (as a friend, that is!).

Es que sigo enfadada (“‘Cause I’m still upset”): This is a sentiment that will be expressed often this week by Eva, Jorge and Lucas. I’ve seen subs that translate it “enfadada” as “angry” and it’s not wrong, but I feel Eva and Jorge are both more upset than angry during this week. Your mileage may vary, though!

CLIP 3: Ship wars

Cullera: Cullera is a beach city in the Valencia region that has been taken over by tourists (or guiris, if you will!). There are some nice sights, but people visit for the beaches. Many Spanish familes own some sort of apartment by the beach, but Cullera is a step up from the usual, which is Torremolinos. A hint about Inés’ parents’ economic status! Cullera means “spoon” in Valencian language, by the way.

Easter break: The 2019 Easter break runs from the 12th of April to the 22th. Coincidentally, there are some rumors that s2 will premiere after Easter break 2019.

Tú no te líes, que el viaje importante es el de Mallorca, ¿eh? (Okay, but don’t lose sight of the important trip, the Majorca trip, huh?): A closer translation would be: “Don’t get sidetracked, the important trip is the Majorca trip, okay?” Which is actually a shorter line, so we should maybe change that, lol.

Que parezcamos ahí dos lapas como estas parejitas que están por ahí (For us to look like two barnacles like those couples you see everywhere): The literal translation would be, “for us to look like two barnacles like those couples that are around,” but that sounded like shade towards Eva and Jorge, who are also broken up this week. It’s not meant as shade, and in fact Eva has no reaction to it, so I reworked it.

Viri’s economic background is hinted through her confusion with job titles. In Spanish, she doesn’t remember if Alejandro’s father is a “director” (which could be translated as director, manager, and even principal, but also CEO) and “directivo” (executive or CEO). I settled for initials salad.

There is a bit of dialogue at the end that was cut from the episode version. The girls present their final arguments in the Viriandro vs Aleviri debate… which ironically, foreshadowed the Norandro vs Alenora shipname wars. It appears as if most of the fandom has settled on Norandro, at last.

Viri: It’s that, it’s like a Greek god.

Cris: What are you, Voldemort or something?

Viri: It’s like, it’s funny because it’s like a Greek god, like Viriandro is a Greek god sort of name. Yeah, it’s super neat.

Cris: It’s a gladiator name, dude!

Almost totally off topic linguistics note: The girls use the English loanword “ship” in the fandom sense. The verb had obviously crossed language lines in fandom spaces years ago, but it became part of mainstream Spanish culture (yes, really) when Operación Triunfo became big last year, and everyone was shipping couples from the show. The interesting part is that Spanish speakers came up with two declensions for the Spanish form of the verb: “yo lo shippeo” (I ship it) and “yo lo shippo” (again, I ship it). People who had been in fandom longer leaned towards “shippeo” (and so do I!), so I find it aesthetically pleasing that the girls favor that declension.  

CLIP 4: Eva shoots his shot. It doesn’t go well.

I was certain Jorge’s secret would have to do with one or both his parents being unemployed, so at the time I made note of the fact that one of the apartments he walks by is up for sale. It’s the reddish orange sign at the 10:06 mark.

The song that plays at the end of the clip is Zahara’s El Frío, but it has been edited. These are the lyrics that have made it to the clip: “I didn’t expect that the one who started all the fires would also be the one to put them out. How did you let the cold inside you, it has destroyed everything.”

CLIP 5: Speederman

This has to be a change from my high school years. I did the Cooper test in 3º ESO (the equivalent of 9th grade in the US) and never had to do it again through high school. 

More info on the Cooper test, in case you care. Not only was I not tested on a standard 400 m tartan track, but we were also not trained to perform it properly. Ah, high school PE!

Venom premiered in Spain the 5th of October. This clip dropped the 19th of October.

Yes, that is actually how we pronounce Spiderman in Spain.

I love that Nora is into Viri saying she loves anything that has to do with saving the world. Nora is so earnest, lol.

¿O qué vas a hacer, tía? ¿Quedarte en casa llorando? (“Or what do you have in mind, dude? Staying at home, crying?”): Another translation could be, “Or what are you going to do, dude? Stay at home and cry?” but I went with the line in the subs because I thought it flowed better.

Cómo jode que te dejen, ¿eh? (It sucks to be dumped, doesn’t it?): “Sucks” is a lot less charged than “joder,” which is the word Inés actually uses. I guess you’d have to say “fucking sucks” to get the intensity across. You’ll have to make do with Inés’ line delivery.

CLIP 6: Ride of the Valkyries

As it turns out, Alba Planas is also a fan of og Skam, so I’m going to pretend Eva’s string of sorries is also an homage to Tarjei’s delivery.

This scene was shot right outside of Cine Paz. 

Pero no me seáis pavas (“But don’t be silly”): Viri says “pavas,” which is hard to translate. Essentially, Viri’s afraid the girls are going to embarrass her in front of Alejandro, either unintentionally or (not unlikely given this group) intentionally. I.e. they’re not going to behave maturely in front of him.

Madre mía (Good heavens): Okay, so I already talked in the post for episode 5 about the way Amira uses interjections that aren’t swear words, and this is an example of it. “Madre mía” literally means “mother of mine” and it’s basically meaningless as an interjection. What matters is the tone you add to it. In this case, Amira’s impatient that the girls are getting distracted chatting about whatever, instead of going into the theater. I don’t love “good heavens” as it has Christian connotations. On the other hand, “geez” feels too short for how impatient Amira sounds.

It took me a while to realize this, but this clip actually has an og equivalent. This would be the clip where Vilde notices William and Sara hooking up, and looks devastated. Skam España chooses to go about it in a totally different way, with the girls backing Viri up as they walk in.

CLIP 7: Tout le monde veut devenir un cat

Sí, hija, sí (“Yeah, girl, yeah”): Jorge actually calls Eva “daughter,” lol. Much like with tío and tía, we might call anyone “son” or “daughter.” I’ve even caught myself using it on my own parents! If I have the right info, this is also common in Latin American countries, except they use “mijo” and “mija,” instead. “Hijo” or “hija” is more affectionate than “tío” or “tía,” although, much like with “madre mía,” it’s used to express a variety of emotions. Here, Jorge is dismayed that his chocolate romance went awry.

Pretty sure those are knockoff peanut M&Ms. Most likely from the Spanish grocery chain Mercadona.

The song that plays at the end of the clip and through the credits is Bely Basarte’s Mariposas. You can find a translation here. 

Tomás Aguilera, who plays Jorge, has managed to be almost impossible to find online. However, his instagram bio makes reference to the French version of the Aristocats song Everybody wants to be a cat. It’s adorable.

Social media:

The girls talk about the Zaorejas random again, Cris notes that he looked young enough as to be in ESO, or MSE, Mandatory Secondary Education. MSE runs through the equivalents of 7th to 10th grade in the US. 

[teacupwriter]

writing process tag

thanks so much for tagging me @katiehahnbooks!! I loved reading your answers, btw. This looks like fun and I need a bit of a pick-me-up tonight, so here goes. :)

1.  What are your favorite genres and/or styles to write in?

I tend toward historical fiction and action/adventure, sometimes with fantasy elements and usually (but not always) featuring romance. I’m not a super ‘realistic’ writer so all of my stuff takes on a cartoon/comic-world quality. Probably a side effect of all the comics and Disney I consumed growing up, but I’m going with it.

2. What was the last writing project you finished and felt successful with?

Mm. Kind of a tricky question at the moment. I recently wrote and posted a Tintin fanfiction one-shot series that I felt pretty happy with at the time, but it didn’t get a great reception. So, mixed results. I think I learned that I should stick to my more natural writing mode. (As in, long drawn-out 30+ chapter stories.)

3. If you have a WIP how do you feel it’s going? What stage are you in?

I have several fanfiction WIPs (read: too many) and one original WIP. I feel it’s going at about the rate I can expect considering my current school workload. I have a title, and the core cast of characters, and a very, very rough idea of the plot, but I’m still in the research/outlining stage. Right now I’m researching the involvement of British Secret Intelligence in the Spanish Civil War (yes, England was all up in Spain’s business and, no, they were not supporting the democratic side) because my female MC’s love interest is a female British spy. Anyway, I love live for research so I may be in this stage for a while...

4. What is your favorite place to write?

Anywhere it’s quiet. Although ever since I got noise-cancelling headphones (best purchase of my life, worth every penny) that can pretty much be anywhere! I am easily distracted by other people though, so unless I’m really in The Zone I prefer to be alone.

5. Do you prefer to write long hand or type? Or some other method?

I prefer to type. I use copy and paste quite a lot when writing, and I keep a spare document open to dump discarded paragraphs/descriptions in case I feel like coming back to them. But I do brainstorming and middle-of-the-night idea scribbling by hand. Last summer when I had a job with a 1-hour both ways commute, I would record myself talking out loud about my story while stuck in traffic.

6. Do you remember your first character? If so can we meet them?

Hah, okay. I could start with my LOTR hobbit OC, Jessica, whom I invented while running around with my younger brother LARPing as Merry and Pippin (we were like 8 and 10 years old, we had no idea what we were doing had a name, of course.) I would play one side of a conversation as Merry and then hop a foot away to play the other side as Jessica. (Who was also his love interest. Of course.) Or I guess I could talk about Fudgie the anthropomorphic stuffed dog who was the star of the first story I wrote at 7 years old, which detailed his voyage across the Pacific Ocean in a bathtub. Or... my Tintin fanfiction OC I created when I was 14, who was, well, not the pinnacle of originality by any means. But I have fond memories of her, and all of them, honestly. Love your ridiculous old characters. #end cringe culture 2018

7. Where do you get your inspiration?

So many places! Sometimes the architecture of an old building, or a dual-ownership home where the top half is painted a different color from the bottom half. (Which I actually saw once in Cambridge, MA. Like, imagine an enemies-to-lovers, ‘we’re stuck renting the same house because it’s a great location but we disagree on everything’ rom com!) Super mainstream action movies tend to inspire me, for some weird reason. (My favorite - the Jason Bourne movies.) I’m inspired by museums, paintings and illustrations, historical photography and comic books... lots of random stuff.

8. Do you outline a story before writing it, or does it all live in your head until the first draft gets put down?

I outline. I outline quite a bit. But I do believe that there is such a thing as too much outlining. You don’t want to entirely snuff out the element of unpredictability. You have to trust that the story might know better than you do, and let it take you unexpected places.

9. Where do you go/what do you do when you’re feeling stuck?

That’s usually when I hand write, or open up a separate word document and just start rambling. Eventually I land on the problem, and once I know the problem, I get an idea of how to fix it. Usually. If that doesn’t work, I’ll just take a break and ignore the whole thing for a while.

10. What got you started writing/doing art? (Because I always love origin stories)

The first time I put a story on paper was for a creative writing assignment in the 2nd grade. (Earlier I mentioned Fudgie the anthropomorphic stuffed dog? Yeah, this was his debut.) The page requirement was 5 and I wrote 20 before my teacher actually stopped me, explained that it was time to turn it in, and even though I wasn’t finished, I could use three magic words: “to be continued...” I never did finish it, but I think I can forgive 7-year-old me. I was probably too busy playing with my Calico Critters.

Okay, I’m tagging @kittensartsbooks, @cabaretofwords, @patomac, @gooseandcaboose, @thewriterexfriends, and @natsacespace. Please tag me if you do this, I’d love to read all your answers!! (But no pressure of course.) ♥︎

[justanotherprowrestlingblog]

Greatest Royal Rumble: Review

Friday 27 April, from the King Abdullah International Stadium in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

Triple H vs John Cena:[***]

The show kicks off with a match you wouldn't expect as an opener and  it was an actually good overall match: not their best match ever but actually watchable. They worked a smart match where they kept working the crowd as they were chanting for both but Triple H made sure he would get them to boo him which at the end he did. Cena picks up a rebound victory after he lost at WrestleMania as expected and now goes back being a part timer unless WWE needs him for something, while Hunter goes back doing behind the scene stuff. Solid opening.

Cruiserweight Championship: Kalisto vs Cedric Alexender:[***1/2]

This is weird to say but actually the cruiser did a better job than on the mania Kick-off and i wasn't expecting anything from this match. While the crowd did not give a fuck about the match, which it really sucks, i feel both guys delivered a really good and fun match that almost made us believe Kalisto could pick up a win but at the end of the day Alexander  won with his lumbar check outta nowhere and it looked as cool as kalisto's springboard spanish fly. I would have loved the crowd to go more behind the cruiserweights, but still it was really a little surprising match, because as i said before, on paper it looked like a filler but it was actually one of the best matches of the night. Alexander now can fully move on with Murphy and they'll probably square off at Backlash.

Raw Tag Team Championship:  Woken Matt Hardy&Bray Wyatt vs The Bar:[**]

I personally lost interest in this match after the Shake Up not because i thougth it was gonna be a bad  match but because the result was very predictable: with it being the Raw Tag team titles, the title couldn't change brand like the IC or US title could and so it was clear that Bray and Matt would have won the match and the belts. The match itself was ok and there is not much to say about it. It will be very interesting to see how long will the team of Wyatt and Hardy last on Raw and also what's gonna happen to the Bar on tuesday nights because of how the tag team division on SD is quite stacked at the moment.

Us Championship: Jinder Mahal vs Jeff Hardy: [*]

Good god what an horrible match it was. It was really painful to watch even tho it leasted only 6 minutes and in this six minutes jinder even sold air after Jeff Hardy did not hit him with his twist of fate. Slow, boring, predictable, easy finish. It was really bad and even i wouldn't advise you to watch it even if you have the whole time in the world to fully watch this show.

Smackdown Tag Team Championship: Usos vs Bludgeon Brothers: [**]

This match had the same effects on me as the other tag team match did: it was ok but there isnt much to say about it. It also feels again like they could have done much better, and in the past they already did, but they were limited to do this and couldn't do much about it. Bludgeon Brother looks even more dominating after this win as they are going towards a possible showdown with Sanity, which at the moment are the only real threat to the BB title reign.

Fatal 4 way Ladder Match for the IC Championship: Seth Rollins vs Samoa Joe vs The Miz vs Finn Balor: [***3/4]

This match is easily the best match of the whole event. It wasn't a ladder match for the ages but in this event it is enough to be the match of the night. It lacked same drama as to be fair Rollins winning was very predictable, unless you had Miz retaining, but then you had him to win again next sunday with Finn and maybe it wasn't to much for WWE to book and we know how heels get booked. It was a cool match but it kinda lacked some spots to remember but it's ok since they have another PPV next week and they don't need to go all out and risk their body for a “special event”. The finish was actually smart because protected the loser and made Rollins look smart, as babyface usually aren't booked as smart guys and for once it's cool and also it sets up Balor nicely as the next challenger after Rollins gets rid of Miz who is gonna get his head kicked by Bryan

WWE Championship: Shinsuke Nakamura vs AJ Styles: [***]

So i came into this match with the mindset that they were gonna do a better match than mania but even this time, the match didn't lived up the hype. It was a little bit better than the mania one but the mania one had a better finish. I was really enjoying the match because they were telling a story that was well fitting with the whole build  up and it was showing why they went with Nakamura turning heel, which for me is really a great idea, but the finish killed the momentum for me. And now they set a rematch for Backlash and i hope this match will have a stipulation with no count-outs (it would make sense since how this one ended) and also with no DQ's (it would also made sense why Nakamura going always for the low blow), unless this time they want to have Styles losing by DQ because he low blowed Nakamura and set up another match for the next event, which if i'm not wrong, it's gonna be MITB. Let's see what's gonna happen on SD live and also what will happen on Backlash, hoping finally for a really great match between Styles and Nakamura

Casket Match: Undertaker vs Rusev: [*1/2]

Good lord. I was expecting a bad match but it was even worse than i thought. It was really really slow and Undertaker look really bad as he isn't even at 30%. They tried to deliver an Ok match but it felt too long and pretty much useless and never in a milion year Rusev would have won. Also i hope English didn't got seriously injuried because that tombstone piledriver looked really nasty. What's gonna happen next for the Dead Man? Hopefully he won't show up untill summerslam because he need really a long rest if he is gonna wrestle again.

Steel Cage for the Universal Championship: Roman Reigns vs Brock Lesnar: [*]

Well...another really really bad match between those two and to be fair in some aspects this one is even worse then their match at wrestlemania. It was just a really disconnected finisher matches just like those on older wwe videogames where both wrestler started with 3 or 5 finsihers. And then a real trainwreck of a finish as Roman speared brock through the cage and his feet touched the ground first but Brock still won. If this was a football game (soccer for my american readers), it would be a great spot pro VAR (video assisting referee), but since it's not, it just a really bad botch and WWE had to find a way to justify it to not ruin the plans. Now, whats gonna happen next? Roman will complain, beat Joe and probably get one more match and maybe beat Lesnar for title, but still it feels like they are waiting and waiting and waiting too much to move on with a new Universal champ.

First ever 50 men royal rumble:[***]

Let's finally talk about the reason we had this event: many people loved it, many people didn't liked it and then there's me standing in the middle between them. It was a good rumble, not great but still watchable and in some aspects really enjoyable and i'm not talking about Titus O'neil sliding under the ring (best royal rumble moment ever). The thing i hated about this match is how they used the surprise, because it makes no sense that a guy that has yet to make his debut on WWE nxt TV, gets a chance to perform in the biggest rumble ever. Or why in the fucking hell should we care about a sumo wrestler, than the majority of us didn't knew nothing about, being in the squared circle. Why instead not using more 205 live guys or even some returning legends(better than hornswoggle) or even some people that actually wrestled previous in the night or wrestle regularly on NXT. Braun wins and makes the new record for most eliminations in a single rumble as Bryan makes the new record for being the wrestler that was in the match for the most time. Also Cass eliminating Bryan makes sense for their match on Backlash. So i'd say it was a good experiment even tho if they doing it again, i hope next time they'll pick the spots in the match more wisely and a great spot also for Botchamania, because between Lashley, Cass, Dawson eliminating himself and Titus doing a Shockmaster is full of stuff for Botchamania

Overall: so what to say about the greatest royal rumble ever? For me it's an ok event that had some good matches, some ok stuff and some shocklingly bad stuff. If you're short on time, just watch the cruiserweight match, HHH vs Cena and the ladder match, if not you can watch also the rumble and Nakamura vs Styles. The rest is not worthy unless you have 6 hours of spare time. The event felt important even tho the result didn't felt as important, but still an Ok experiment if they are gonna do another similar event, even with the time zone being different (praise the gods for giving me an event that ended at 11PM and not at 5AM...i live in italy so usually WWE PPVs start at 2AM for us) in the future. [6]

[brianna-lei]

Butterfly Soup asks #14

I accidentally wrote an essay about Diya and Akarsha’s parents! Also, how the squad acts when sick, and more

Diya and Akarsha’s parents have their flaws, but they’re not as bad as Min and Noelle’s. 

Like Diya mentioned at the beginning of the game, she doesn’t talk to her parents much because when she does, they’re prone to turning it into a lecture/criticism of her. For instance, if Akarsha were to come up in conversation, they’d go “Akarsha is so outgoing! You should try being more like that”. 

Obviously her parents mean well and think they’re doing their jobs as parents, but the little stuff adds up and contributes to her social anxiety (on top of Diya already being hard of hearing). Diya constantly worries about embarrassing herself in front of people/being seen as weird because her parents make it sound like she’s almost always doing something wrong. I actually teared up a bit typing this bc I relate too hard LMAO Because of this Diya doesn’t say much to them, so a lot of their car rides and meals together are in almost complete silence. A car ride with Diya’s mom was actually in an early draft of the game, but was cut because despite being enlightening re: Diya’s personality, it was really boring

Her parents do have some good traits, though! Despite being homophobic, they’re relatively progressive (for asian parents) on gender roles. They support her interests -- seeing how much Diya loves sports, they’ve always let her participate even when they’re more male-dominated ones like baseball. As long as Diya keeps her grades up and doesn’t cut her hair short like Min, they pretty much let her do what she wants. They’re open-minded enough that they will change their minds on things, given enough time.

Akarsha’s parents are big weirdos just like her. Her dad especially has a real sense of humor and is always saying things like “I’m a genius...I have a great idea for an invention. [horrible bad idea invention here, like a phone that gives an electric shock to telemarketers]“ For the most part they get along. 

Her parents really pressure her to know what kind of career she’ll pursue, though. Akarsha feels really lost about it, like she doesn’t have things together like she should. They also often brag to other parents that she’s so smart/successful, so Akarsha worries she’s not actually smart after all and will end up as a failure 

Noelle can speak Mandarin, she had to attend Chinese school every Saturday for several years. The writing system infuriates her because it’s so inefficient 

Akarsha is only fluent in English. Her parents were worried about her fitting in as a kid and mostly spoke to her in English. By the time they realized this was a mistake it was too late. She knows a bit of Spanish from classes at school

I like this question so I’m publishing it  Noelle (as seen in the game) recognizes that she’s sick, takes cold medication, but then tries to power through school until she physically can’t. She normally wears a surgical mask to prevent contaminating others, but I couldn’t put it in the game because blocking the lower half of her face made her look less expressive 

When Diya feels even slightly sick she immediately tries to sleep it off. And when she really is sick she sleeps all day. She heard once that sleeping is good when you’re sick and really took it to heart.  

Min drinks one glass of orange juice, is convinced it cured her, and insists that she’s not that sick. She doesn’t cover her mouth when she coughs/sneezes...my terrible snotty child

Akarsha acts like she is on her deathbed and tries to milk it for sympathy/excuses for what she’s done. She blows her nose with a loud honking noise and looks as pitiful as possible. 

Liz is trans! 

Yep, but she doesn’t know it yet! She still thinks she’s straight by default...my silly child...

I haven’t decided for sure yet, but I’m thinking about properly revealing their names in the sequel

I had a ton of trouble naming it! Its working title was Queen of Diamonds. I liked it for the puns (diamond/diyamin, etc.), but had to change it because

The tag was already filled with random stuff like Marina and the Diamonds

It was really easy to get wrong, like people would misremember it as “Queen of Hearts”, “Queen of Diamond”, etc.

It made it sound like Diya and Min were more important than Noelle and Akarsha

After realizing I had to change it, I went through this crisis where I couldn’t think of any good names. I’m glad I finally did settle on Butterfly Soup, though -- it’s a bit weird and gross, but I think it fits

I took most of the photos myself, but a few of them are stock photos. 

Yes, the background used was from the Great Mall! 

It’s been really entertaining seeing people who went to my high school having an out of body experience playing my game

Good...

tbh I don’t think she would, double denim doesn’t seem like her aesthetic

Her windbreaker is based on this, but I’ve never been able to find a site that sells them. I think they’ve all been discontinued for a long time now :( 

Yeah, there are many...While I think it does capture the cringey memey feeling of high school well, I’ll probably put fewer direct memes in the sequel 

[themanicgalaxy]

SPN 2X4 Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things

yeah that’s a promising title isn’t it

TORTURED EMO ROCK THE CURE FOR BROKEN HEART HA

yeah get friend zoned bitch

ok so something something boyfriend, she crashes her car

that crash looked super realistic though, did they actually crash a car

“making awkward small talk” ah so Dean never learned to make friends, I see

AW he leaves John’s dog tags with Mary’s grave

listen I hate John, but I can appreciate that sentiment at least

also who is this uncle they’ve never met

OOO SPOOKY TREE AND DEAD SPOT THAT’S COOL

also Dean looks good in blue

and I do like how we know she’s dead, but we don’t know exactly what happened, keeps the suspense

Sam just wants his brother to stop repressing his emotions, something he won’t do on pain of literal death

ah the Grief theme, that’s how it ties into our scrappy protagonists

Sam please stop psychoanalyzing your brother, from personal experience, it fucking hurts when you get it wrong

Matt what the fuck did you do

This actress does not look like she’s in college

ah and she kills him

again, what the fuck did he do

Dean you are a horrible fucking liar

I do very much appreciate how he saw something in a reflection and thought it was a ghost, that’s a nice touch

SAM IS WATCHING TELENOVELAS HAHAHA

ah he took the psychoanalysis personally as a slight about not doing his job

yeah that can happen

they’re grief counselors...now...that’s a terrible...terrible idea

AH and he was cheating on her, yeah that makes sense

Dean: yeah we can burn a corpse

Sam: ???????

Does...no one see them

and of course the coffin’s empty

what did her friend do?? WHAT???

WHY ARE THEY MAKING OUT??? 

Ah yes necromancy

and then Dean absolutely loses his shit...yeah ok I expected this

I mean is he losing it? yes? but

Yknow what idk where I was going with that

Ah there goes the self sacrificial bullshit, here we are

zombie monica? Is that her name? is....so scary

This whole thing about how he brought her back so she could be his girlfriend is....really really fucked up actually

AH her name is Angela 

the fact that I couldn’t remember it...oof

Dean’s intuition about people(but terrible at talking to them)...hm

“we’ve come to hug” Dean

Dean do you even know what a grief counselor is 

I do like the weird radio thing(unless that happened in valorant)

I think it’s quite funny that Dean could only allude to sex

that scene was so weirdly animated/shot why did they do it like that

“When someone’s gone, they should stay gone” considering how many times these fuckers have died, that’s so funny

I mean not yet but

this relationship has so many red flags, in SO MANY places oh my GOD

I mean, zombie, but manipulative zombie, but

I don’t even know what to say

WOW just...just kill Neal why don’t you 

My god Angela

She’s remarkably efficient

Dean how many times are you going to shoot her

are you sure this isn’t personal buddy

“She had pretty crappy taste in guys...you must be her type” ha

I just checked, and netflix keeps spanish dub available hahahahah

FINALLY they’re talking thank god

AH and Dean blames himself I forgot about that aspect

AH and he thinks he should stay dead, and that it would be better

he’s the “what’s dead should stay dead”

“what can you say to make that right”

FUCK IM CRYING

AHH I WANNA GIVE HIM A HUG OH THAT  S U CK S TO LIVE WITH

wrap up: 

1. SOLID wrap-up to the first few episodes with the grief plot line, also OW MY FEELINGS

2. I love Dean

3. I HATE JOHN

4. overall mystery writing is getting better i feel?

idk man, I’m too tired to analyze

[ellehletoile]

20 Followers I’d like to know

Tagged by @kayejwrotes THANK U SO MUCH!

1) Name/nickname: Elleh 2) Gender: female 3) Star sign: Aries 4) Height: 175 cm. Might have grown, dunno. 5) Hogwarts House: this is gonna murder me, but i have no idea. 6) Favourite animal: i would say crow, but i love animals in general because they are all amazing. 7) Hours of sleep: 8 hours, more or less. 8) Dogs or cats: THERE’S NO CHOICE. 9) Number of blankets: Two to three. 10) Dream trip: A year long trip just travelling wherever i wanna go. like, waking up and feeling Cambodia and going to Cambodia, and so on.  11) Dream job: Yo, writer. That’s totally my dream job, I think.  12) Time: 22:27 13) Birthday: 1st of April. I’m a super joke.  14) Favorite Bands: Linkin Park, Scorpion, Marina & The Diamonds, The Doors… like I have so many i’m just lazy lol 15) Favorite Solo Artists: Ludovico Einaudi? I mean, he doesn’t sing per se but that man is like my dream musician. Also Sia, Kishi Bashi. 16) Song Stuck In My Head: “Si Esto Es Fe” from a spanish movie/play called “La Llamada” 17) Last Movie I Watched: didn’t finish it, but “Han Gong-Ju” 18) Last Show I Watched: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (as in ep, if it’s whole thing, then The Handmaid’s Tale) 19) When Did I Create My Blog: Lol, when dinosaurs still walked the Earth, probably. 20) What Do I Post/Reblog: In this blog I basically reblog stuff, from art (a TON of art), to movies or shows or animes I like or anything I find relevant or interesting.  21) Last Thing I Googled: “Princesa Han Gong ju” because spain likes to change its movies titles 22) Other Blogs: @negare-boshi is ma writing blog 23) Do I Get Asks: Not really, nope.  24) Why I Choose My URL: 'cause it’s been my internet nickname since what feels eons 25) Following: some 600?? but there are blogs there that have died long ago so i should make some cleaning 26) Followers: In this blog I have about 240. 27) Lucky Number: I love 8, but I’m not sure if it brings me luck. 28) Instruments:  tried electric bass and acoustic guitar and failed at both 29) What Am I Wearing: T-shirt and sweatshorts 30) Favorite Food: i never know how to answer this. i think it depends on my mood? like there’s not a single thing i would eat whatever whenever. 31) Nationality: Andorran (lol i’m not sure if it’s called like that in english it sounds weird af) 32) Favorite Song: "House of the Rising Sun” The Animals. That song was a changing moment.  33) Last Book Read: “Tell Me It’s Real” from T. J. Klune. (i’ve been reading romantic novels for like two weeks non stop i think my mouth is candyland). 34) Top Three Fictional Universes I’d Like To Join: FullMetal Alchemist’s, Harry Potter’s, probably Marvel’s

And I tag (not 20 people probably, sorry) @itsalwaysmiyukikazuya @cheetahleopard @captainkuroo-san @allykat023 @slothesaurus (just if u wanna!!)

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Salt and Sugar Fandom: Overwatch | (Marvel?) Characters: Reaper, Soldier 76, Tracer, Jesse McCree, Sombra, Widowmaker Tag(s)? Talon is full of controlling dicks, weird sci-fi science, making sense of Sombra’s abilities, Jack’s not Overwatch (yet), Reaper and his rage issues, dad!76, dad!reaper, kind of sort of crossover, unsure if or how to continue, fumbled and probably incorrect mexican spanish (feel free to yell at me about it), also r76 hints, also McCree’s accent sucks Summary: Winston really should’ve performed a routine check up on Tracer’s Chronal Accelerator. Maybe then this wouldn’t have happened.

Reaper crouched low behind the crumbling wall with a huffed growl. He tightened his grip onto his guns and glanced out from the cover, only to jerk back in time to dodge a shot from Jack’s pulse riffle.

“Tell me you’ve gotten the data, Sombra,” Reaper snarled behind gritted teeth. He debated the chance to slip into smoke and shadow, to swarm Jack like a wraith until the man chocked on him, on the black that made up Reaper; made up all that he was now. Behind his mask Reaper tracked to Widow nestled onto a rooftop where she worked to keep both Oxten and McCree busy and off of his back since Jack seemed so dead focused on him. He couldn’t tell where Sombra was, didn’t even need to really because what worth was hunting down the girl unless she wanted to be seen?

“Hold your horses, papi, I’m working on it,” Sombra snarked back.

Reaper snarled to himself a slew of curses and peeked out behind his cover again. He jerked back and growled when the shot grazed at the sides of his mask. Smoke wafted out from under it and curled alongside his fingers and ankles at the sudden rush of rage.

“Well hurry up,” Reaper growled. “Widow can’t hold off Oxten and McCree for too long and Jack’s getting a little too close for comfort here.”

“Well why don’t you just take care of him then?”

“If I had the time, mija,” Reaper huffed. He wanted to enjoy his discussion with Jack, not waste it on some sort of mess for Talon like this.

Sombra snorted. “Dios mío just kiss him and make up already,” she mumbled.

“Sombra.”

Sombra mumbled something back in Spanish and Reaper fought down the urge to just wraith himself to her location and shove soap down her mouth. Obviously the girl hung around seasoned killers far too often given the state of her mouth. The irony did not escape Reaper at all, and he shifted to peer out again and try to track Jack when Sombra cheered.

“Got it!” she yelled over the connection and Reaper sighed. He could faintly hear Widow mutter something in French that neither of them could make out as he started to let himself lose shape.

“Meet up at the extraction point,” Reaper commanded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sombra yawned. “You think they’ll let us get in some proper down time after all of this?”

Reaper rolled his eyes, already most incorporeal as he shifted, near ready to fling himself across the battlefield. He didn’t bother to give Sombra a reply. There was a loud explosion as he started to move and a high pitched whine that crossed over his earbud. Reaper quite suddenly slammed back into corporeality.

“Sombra?!” Reaper jerked his head in the direction of the approximation of the explosion, but all he got on the other end of the radio was cursing. “Sombra!”

“What in the hell is that?” Sombra wheezed. “Reaper, look to Widow!”

Reaper jerked his head back to where Widow tangled with McCree and Oxten and paled. He climbed to his feet, already on the move to shift to Widows side, when the wine of Jack’s pulse riffle against his lower back stopped him cold.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jack growled. The air began to spark with electricity and a sudden second explosion drew the man’s attention. Even then Reaper found himself frozen still with the gun against his back. He could tell when Jack saw just what he saw when the barrel of the weapon slipped back a little. He watched the man suck in a sharp breath, then together they moved forward. Jack yelled out, “LENA!” as Reaper dropped into shadow and mist and flung himself up to Widow.

Jack jumped, scrambled, and climbed up to the rooftop and over to McCree, hands raised up against the sudden veritable vortex that seemed to be bursting out of Oxten’s chest. Somehow, despite the fact that they very well should have been able to hear the noise on the ground, no one could hear her screaming until they reached the rooftop. Reaper glanced and saw McCree inching towards Oxten, hands also held up. He couldn’t hear what the boy was saying. Instead he focused on Widow.

The second explosion that rocked the rooftop had knocked Widow promptly unconscious. Reaper reached her side just as Sombra did, the Latina woman knelt next to Widow with her gloved hand alight and screens built out of nanites rocketed under her fingertips. It took only a glance from Reaper to see that Sombra hacked into the few nanites in Widow’s system that were constantly monitored by Talon. He wondered if they were even aware that the girl could slip into those cracks and happily did so, then decided that it honestly didn’t matter.

“Lena!” Jack roared and Reaper glanced over to them, noticed the way that the pulsing vortex from Oxten’s chest beat faster. The sense of impending doom ratcheted up.

“What do we do, Reaper?” Sombra asked, and Reaper shifted back to see her blue eyes wide. He didn’t doubt that Sombra could feel the itch along her skin just like Reaper could feel it through his whole body. There wasn’t much of a chance, not with the increased frequency of pulses, to get away. Still Reaper reached down and pulled Widow up. His lower half already twisted into smoke for faster movement and a tendril snapped out to grab Sombra who yelped in surprise.

“We need to move,” Reaper growled. “Now.” If they wanted to survive whatever was to come their way from whatever happened to the chronal accelerator that Winston built for Oxten then they needed to move.

Sombra twisted to her feet but didn’t bother to get out of the shadowed grip Reaper held on her arm, aware that if push came to shove he could move much faster than she could and that grip might just save her life. Before they could race off however the vortex reached a critical point and the world exploded into a wash of color, static, high winds, and arcs of electricity. Oxten’s screaming reached a fever pitch, twisted into the high whine of an electrical charge, and then silence burst around them until their ears rang.

Reaper pulled Sombra close, the explosion rocketed him and the two girls he gripped tightly. He wrapped himself as best he could around them, shielded them from flying debris in a vacuum of sound. He could see Jack faintly being tossed aside like a ragdoll, McCree in his grasp, before sound exploded back around them. Oxten’s screaming cut in and then cut off sharply and Reaper felt himself collide into the rough trunk of a tree which snapped from the force. He slammed into a second and collapsed down to the ground, groaning, Widow still unconscious and Sombra awake, although given the way she trembled slightly probably shaken.

Carefully Reaper let go of his tight grip on the two girls. He let Widow slip to the ground and Sombra pushed herself up beside Reaper who leaned against the tree and wheezed.

“Reaper?” Sombra questioned.

“Ribs,” Reaper grunted and let his eyes slip shut and focused on his other senses. They didn’t have any healers between the three of them, and Reaper honestly didn’t feel like hunting down something to ease the ache right now anyway.

The only other options of course were to kill one of the two Overwatch fools with his shotguns, but Reaper decided to ignore that and just breath out heavily and attempted to ignore the burn along his chest, or the way his sides flaked off into mist at regular intervals. Sombra licked her lips and looked a bit worried at Reaper and then glanced around the trees that surrounded them.

“¡Nombre!” she breathed out, and one hand grasped at Reaper much to the older man’s consternation. “¿Donde estamos?” She couldn’t immediately see Oxten, McCree, or Jack but that didn’t mean that the two Overwatch members and Jack weren’t in the obvious forest with them. Sombra glanced to Reaper and rapidly questioned in Spanish, “Did you know she could do this?”

“No,” Reaper growled, and opened his eyes again. He’d already figured what most probably happened—at least in regards to their sudden shift in location. More then likely the damn monkey figured once he’d created the chronal accelerator he didn’t need to keep a close on eye it, like everything else Overwatch ended up inventing somewhere down the line.

Sombra carefully got to her feet, her gun forming into her hand with a twitch of her fingers and a small thought to the nanites that she could control with her whims. With Reaper wounded, Widow out, that left Sombra as the main line of defense and she didn’t like it when there wasn’t something for her to hack easily enough nearby. Reaper wheezed again faintly and Sombra bit her lip. She debated giving it all up; asking Overwatch to help them, at least given the situation. They could happily go back to blowing each other up after they were out of the forest and healed up for all Sombra cared.

“Don’t,” Reaper snarled. Sombra sighed, canted her hip, and rolled his eyes.

“Spoilsport,” she said back and then stiffened straight when she felt the telltale sign of electronics ping on the edge of her senses. Reaper heard someone stumble about and with a twist of ink and shadows held one shotgun up and at the ready. Jack fumbled into the broken tree, stared at the three Talon agents, and shook his head.

“Great. You’re here as well,” he sighed, pressed a hand heavily against the trunk beside the one Reaper crashed through, and waved his hand back toward the direction he came from. “Over here!”

Reaper moved to get to his feet, snarling, hissing, and spitting under his breath because obvious Jack planned to call over his companions and to hell if he would let himself be shot down like a mad dog. Sombra reached out and grasped him by the arm, form tense and shifted to be in front of Widow who still hadn’t woken. Reaper worried for a moment that the girl suffered from some sort of concussion. She did smack pretty hard into the roof, and he thought he saw her headpiece cracked.

“Easy,” Jack sighed. “We’re in no condition to fight either.”

Sombra relaxed a bit, and Reaper wanted to snap at her to not listen to this pandejo dammit, but he kept his words to himself. He bit them down with a wheeze and a glare at Jack and instead spat out a grumbled, “Fucking Overwatch.”

McCree and Oxten stumbled over next. Oxten, Reaper noted, looked pale and shaky. The chronal accelerator at her chest wasn’t off, but it was dim and flickered and the color itself seemed to be several shades wrong. For a moment Reaper wished he’d gone into science, maybe he could figure a way to stop the damn thing from blowing them all up since the idiotic monkey never bothered to work on his own invention after making it, and then he shoved those thoughts under the rug. Honestly he much preferred to kill things than stare at a computer screen all day anyway.

McCree, though, Reaper noted how the boy stood stiff. He watched how the kid glanced between Jack and himself, wary, untrusting. Reaper wanted to huff. This had been the first mission either had run into each other on the field, and while Reaper could admit the kid had grown rather well from his days at Blackwatch he did feel some disappointment. He could already name over a dozen ways the whole firefight could’ve gone in McCree’s direction a whole lot better if he’d did this or that right.

Finally McCree sighed explosively. He slumped down and scrubbed a hand over the hair on his face and put his gaze squarely onto Reaper.

“Fuck this is one helluva mighty mess ye’ve gotten us all inta,” McCree glanced to Oxten, and then shook his head. “Also pretty sure ghosts’r supposed t’ stay dead.”

“And buried,” Reaper drawled. “McCree.”

“Reyes,” McCree said back, lips pressed thin. Oxten glanced over to Reaper with wide eyes, and the pale pallor to her skin seemed to get worse.

“Great, wonderful, family reunion done and over with,” Jack pushed himself up, “do any of you know where we are?”

Sombra rolled her eyes, put her gun away, and turned. Reaper and Jack could hear the muttered Spanish easily enough although both deigned to ignore it.

“I don’t know, Jack,” Reaper chose to say instead. “Why don’t you ask your little science experiment?”

“Hey!” Oxten protested weakly, swayed, and McCree reached out to steady her.

“That’s uncalled fer,” McCree uttered with narrowed eyes.

Jack shifted forward, as if to defend Oxten as well, and Reaper rolled his eyes. Typical boy scout. He shifted a bit himself, an attempt to mostly relieve some of the pressure on his ribs. Reaper debated something else to say to Jack, or maybe to the two members of Overwatch in front of him. It wasn’t often that he could dig into them with some hard discovered truths and not get shot for it. In the end Reaper decided to keep his mouth shut and just focus on staying in one shape.

Reaper didn’t miss the way Jack cocked his head in his direction at his silence. He didn’t miss the way Jack looked him up and down as he leaned against the tree, or the way Jack’s visor seemed to focus on his chest. The old bastard knew him well enough that Reaper didn’t even need to wonder what the man might be thinking about. He turned his head to the side and resolved not to think about Jack, his Overwatch not-kids, or the fact that they weren’t attempting to kill each other. If Talon even knew….Reaper sighed explosively.

“Sombra?” he questioned.

“Un momento, papi,” Sombra mumbled. Reaper doubted she even realized she slipped papi into that sentence given the lack of burning sarcasm.

Jack shifted. “What is she doing?”

“Finding a satellite and getting a GPS location, if you would shut up,” Sombra growled. Her fingers moved as if typing on some sort of keyboard and her eyes almost glowed purple from the data that she had streaming directly across her eyes instead of in a nanite created screen.

Reaper shifted, stood up a bit straighter even though it hurt and ghosted a bit closer to Sombra out of worry. Jack picked up on it, obviously, as did McCree.

“What is it?” McCree questioned. He shifted Oxten’s position against his side so that he could reach for his measly six shooter easier.

“It shouldn’t be this hard for her to find a satellite, should it,” Jack said. He kept his voice low, loud enough for Reaper and McCree to hear him at the least.

“No,” Reaper growled, and something felt lodged into his throat. Just where had Oxten taken them?

“Hah!” Sombra jumped and did a little dance. “Got it.” She flicked her fingers and screens popped up around them with a map and a small blinking dot. Her eyes were already back to their regular blue. “We’re in, hm, New York?” she cocked her hip and blinked curiously.

“Obviously,” Reaper grumbled and drifted forward. He glanced at the information Sombra grabbed and scowled beneath his mask when he caught the date. “Sombra…”

“What?” Sombra asked, her tone a bit testy.

“Is this data all correct?” Reaper glanced over to her. She’d knelt over Widow after dropping the screens up for them to peruse.

“Of course, what do you expect?” she waved her hand and focused on the information she could glean about Widow’s condition.

Jack shifted up next to Reaper and nudged him with his shoulder. “What do you see, Gabe.”

Reaper snapped his head over to Jack, then grit his teeth and motioned toward the screen. “The date.” Jack glanced at the date and then leaned in closer in surprise when he saw what Reaper saw.

“That’s….”

“Oh it’s not just the date,” Sombra pipped up. She kept everything utterly chipper, but Reaper could hear the tenseness. “It’s everything.” The whole group looked to Sombra now as she explained. “See I tried to grab a Talon satellite first—they’re everywhere—but nothing. So I went with Overwatch—they’re everywhere too—again nothing. So I expanded my search beyond to every conceivable option and still—nothing. Nothing that I recognized. So finally I grabbed a stray satellite nearby—Stark something or other—and pulled the data from that. Do you know what I found?”

Sombra hummed at what she could see in Widow’s nanites and dismissed the data before she turned around and smiled at the group.

“No Omnics,” Sombra said lightly. “We’re not anywhere near where we should be. Or when we should be. Fairly certain there never was a group called the ‘Avengers’ either.” Her smile turned wicked, almost nasty. “Congratulations Lena, I can call you Lena right? You just pulled us into a different world.”

Reaper stared at Sombra, then at the screens that she provided with the information she just casually dropped on the group. He raised one hand to his mask and growled between grit teeth. His body wavered in response to the sudden burst of rage and then stilled when he just felt tired.

“I’m going to kill that monkey,” Reaper snarled.

“I’m beginning to understand the sentiment,” Jack grumbled.