#so comic accuracy doesn’t mean much to me (yet)

[jeonstellate]

my first exposure to doctor doom is through a spider-man comic, so y’all already know where my brain immediately went

[sesamestreep]

New Taylor Swift prompts! 16, Matt/Foggy

16. I’ve missed you all this time (from this prompt list) I don't know what this is, but it's technically set in the 60s, even though I did not make that explicitly clear anywhere in the text and it serves no purpose beyond just...vibes. I mostly just wanted to write silly new year’s fic, don’t worry about historical accuracy or world-building, everyone be cool! happy 2024, you silly and sultry geese! on ao3 here 🥂✨

Matt can still hear the noise of the party, barely dampened even when he's several rooms removed. He’d be able to hear it from the lobby of the building, truth be told, but here he can still make out conversations without having to focus that hard. He tries to direct his senses somewhere else—somewhere with less overlapping chatter and clinking glasses and shuffling feet over plush carpets—and breathe deep, so that maybe he can regain some equilibrium and hopefully go back to the party in a few minutes and act normal. It’s almost midnight, after all, and who goes to a New Year’s Eve party just to ditch out before midnight?

“Matthew Augustus Murdock,” a voice calls out from the far end of the paneled hallway.

“Not my middle name,” Matt says, smiling, “as you already know.”

“But wouldn’t it be better if it was?” Foggy asks, as he slides down to sit next to Matt. 

“Yes, I imagine I’d have lived a much easier and more successful life, if only my middle name was…what was it again?”

“Albert,” Foggy says, “or something. Who cares?”

“Good point,” Matt says, pressing his shoulder into Foggy’s happily. “How’d you find me?”

“I used the one and only superpower God graced me with: I’m like a homing pigeon for you specifically. I always know where to find you. It’s eerie, frankly, and damned useless, but—“

“Not to me,” Matt interjects, too readily. “I mean, for what it’s worth.”

Foggy nods, his overly long hair that he keeps meaning to get cut rasping over his shirt's stiff collar as he does. “That’s a good point.”

“I make those occasionally.”

“Occasionally,” Foggy repeats in a comically shrill, tiny voice, like he’s doing an impression of a cartoon mouse, for whatever reason. He’s a little drunk, clearly, which Matt could tell from the way he’s talking and the way he’s moving and the way he smells and, well, that’s probably enough evidence. 

“If I’m ever in trouble, I know who to call,” Matt says, which is maybe too honest, but Foggy doesn’t have to know that.

“You wouldn’t even have to call, Matt,” Foggy replies, solemnly grasping his shoulder. “If you’re ever in trouble, I’ll know and I’ll come running.”

“I would pay real money to see you actually run anywhere.”

“You’d have to, my man. I imagine it would take a massive breakthrough in science for you to see anything at all, and those things tend to cost a pretty penny,” Foggy says, grandly. “And also, on a much more serious note, go fuck yourself.”

Matt laughs and collapses against Foggy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just know how much you hate running.”

“Which means you’ve entirely missed the inherent capital-R romanticism of me offering to do it for you! Classic Murdock. Absolute philistine behavior. I should expect it by now.”

“Your gallantry is wasted on me,” Matt agrees, still doing that thing of being too honest.

“I know,” Foggy sighs, theatrically, “and yet, here I am.”

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“Missed you, came looking. Same as ever.”

“Aw,” Matt says, leaning into his side even more. “You’re right, I really don’t deserve you.”

“I never said that. You said that,” Foggy says, poking him. “But anyway, I lied and the real answer to your question is that I got tired of girls coming up to me and asking where my handsome friend had got to.”

Matt knows two things with a decent degree of certainty: Foggy hadn’t been lying when he gave his first answer (Matt would have heard it in his heartbeat and likely noticed any other number of tells that Foggy has when he does lie, besides) and that no one would have had to ask him to go looking for Matt after he disappeared. His joke about homing pigeon-like tendencies is more truthful than either of them would like to acknowledge. When Matt goes missing—as he very frequently does at these types of things—Foggy always comes to find him. Matt’s been doing this since way before he met Foggy—having overly heightened senses does not make crowded social functions more manageable in general—but he can probably admit that he does it more now that he knows someone will come looking for him.

He also knows that girls like Foggy a lot more than Foggy thinks they do. He’s always talking about how girls seek him out to get in with Matt, but Matt doesn’t really believe that. There have been a few girls, here and there, certainly enough that Foggy’s right to be a little paranoid about it, who have turned their sights from Foggy to Matt, which on top of being unkind is just bad business sense. Anyone with a brain in their head would see that Foggy’s the better option of the two of them. And Matt’s got plenty of flaws, but he’d certainly never take up with anyone who hurt his best friend, so it doesn’t work out the way anyone hopes it will, anyway, when they do. Still, he's sure Foggy could have found a nice girl to keep him entertained until Matt got back to the party, if he put his mind to it, and that maybe he'd just been looking for an excuse to duck out himself when someone asked about Matt.

“This is where I got to,” Matt says, with a slightly pathetic shrug.

“Who says I meant you?” Foggy asks, absently. “I have other friends that are handsomer than you!”

“Not only do you not have a single handsomer friend in all the world,” Matt says, belatedly unsure if ‘handsomer’ is even a word, but otherwise too confident to turn back, “you don’t even have another friend at this party.”

“I’m exceedingly charming, Matthew,” Foggy over-enunciates. “Everyone at this party is my new best friend.”

Matt loops his arm through Foggy’s and leans his head back against the wall. “Sounds like I’ve got a lot of competition.”

“You’re not having fun?” Foggy asks, the change of topic so sudden and his tone so unexpectedly serious that Matt has a brief moment of confusion that he means with this joke they’ve got going. It takes a second to realize he means at the party in general.

“It’s fancy.”

“Too fancy, you mean…”

“You know I don’t go in for all this stuff,” Matt says, shrugging. 

“Like I do, you mean?” Foggy asks, lightly, even though Matt can feel him warming with embarrassment. 

“Like I used to,” Matt clarifies, and trusts his meaning to be clear.

“Right,” Foggy says, and the tone in his voice is the one he uses exclusively when he refers to Matt’s ex-girlfriend from junior year who almost caused him to drop out. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

“You can head back. Really, I don’t mind. I just need a few more minutes.”

“No, you’re right. It’s…a bit stuffy, isn’t it?” Foggy muses. “I mean, I didn’t even know people still had apartments like this, outside of, well, the Rockefellers.” 

The apartment belongs to the parents of one of their friends from law school and the only reason they have free rein over the place is because the parents are vacationing in Aspen with friends. Even without being able to see it, Matt can tell it’s a swanky place. The rug he’s currently sitting on is so plush that he can basically sink his entire hand into it. Every table he passed on his way to this hiding place smelled so strongly of Pine-Sol that there has to be a maid on staff, if not a team of them. He’s fairly certain this random hallway he discovered is actually a back passage to the kitchens, so the servants don’t have to be seen coming and going. He's not sure if he asked their host about it that they'd even know it existed. And Matt’s shoes, as well as most of his clothes, are secondhand.

“You were having fun until I made you feel bad,” Matt says, tucking his chin onto Foggy’s shoulder and trying to look contrite.

“No, I mean—I like having you around, Matt. You keep me honest,” Foggy laughs. “Two and a half years of law school, four years at an Ivy before that, I think I’ve just made peace with having to go to parties in uncomfortable clothes and to make conversation with people I don’t really like. I don’t think I’d call it fun, but it’s a social life of some kind, I suppose.”

“We should have gone to Josie’s,” Matt says, holding onto him too tightly, even with the excuse of a few drinks.

Foggy snorts, thinking of the beloved dive bar they sneak off to in Hell’s Kitchen whenever they can, whenever they’re home. It’s only a matter of blocks to get there, but sometimes, at school, it feels farther away than all that.

“I don’t dare imagine the caliber of our prospects for a kiss at midnight there,” Foggy says, with an exaggerated shudder.

“Can’t be any worse than our prospects here,” Matt replies. 

Foggy whistles, low, under his breath. “You’re going to be disappointing a lot of nice girls with that kind of talk, Murdock!”

“Better to disappoint them now than later,” Matt says, fully burying his face in Foggy’s shoulder now. He gets like this when he drinks. Foggy's used to it.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t do the whole ‘going steady’ thing anymore,” Foggy says, leaning in conspiratorially. “You’re too damaged and that means you’re never going to get married, so you’d rather not lead anyone on.”

“You say that like it’s not true,” Matt whispers back.

“It isn’t true, you moron!” Foggy laughs. “One day, some beautiful girl is going to turn your head so quick, you’ll have neck problems for the rest of your life!”

“Sounds uncomfortable,” Matt says.

“And I’ll be there,” Foggy continues, like Matt didn’t even speak, “laughing.”

“Well, as long as you’ll be there, Foggy.”

“Did I mention you’re a moron?”

“Yes. A few times now, in fact.”

“Then, I’ve done my duty.”

“And what about you?” Matt asks. “When’s somebody going to turn your head?”

“Somebody turns my head every goddamn day, it feels like,” Foggy grumbles. “The problem isn’t my head. It’s everybody else’s.”

“There’s plenty of girls who’d be more than happy to trap you in matrimony.”

“Hmm, well, I’m sure that’s true enough,” Foggy replies, thoughtfully. “I guess it’s more about finding someone you wouldn’t mind being trapped with.”

“And you haven’t found her yet, I take it?”

“No,” Foggy says, sadly. The girl he dated for most of their sophomore year—the one everyone had been certain Foggy was going to end up marrying—had just gotten engaged last month. Foggy still wasn’t entirely over it, Matt was pretty sure.

“And you’re certain she’s not here?” Matt asks, encouragingly.

“Unlikely,” Foggy says. “None of the girls here would be caught dead with me in the daylight. One of them might be unscrupulous enough to let me kiss her at midnight, though.”

“So, go back,” Matt replies. “Find the girl in that room with the lowest standards and lay one on her!”

“I will if you will.”

“I don’t know this for sure, but I do have serious doubts that any girl in the room will let the both of us kiss her at midnight.”

“I meant, you should—you know what I meant!” Foggy exclaims, embarrassed again. 

“I was trying to be funny!”

“‘Trying’ being the operative word there…”

Matt sighs. “What’s the point of kissing someone at midnight when there’s almost no chance of seeing them ever again after tonight?”

“You’ve just described the point yourself! It’s just for fun, to start the year off right! There’s no pressure!” Foggy says, disbelieving. "What’s gotten into you? I thought zero expectations romance was your specialty!”

“Maybe I’m just not a New Year's kind of guy.”

Foggy hums thoughtfully. “Can I tell you my theory?”

“Your theory? About what?”

“About you, and New Year's, and all of that.”

“Oh. Sure. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re afraid,” Foggy says.

“Afraid?” Matt asks. “Of…New Year’s Eve?”

“You don’t want to participate in these silly little rituals, like kissing someone at midnight, because you’re secretly terrified that something good is going to happen to you, and then you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

“Really, Foggy. Be serious!”

“I am serious,” Foggy replies, casually. “You’re scared of being hit over the head with it again.”

“Hit over the head with what?”

“Love,” Foggy says, simply. “You felt it once and it nearly derailed your whole life, so now you avoid any situation where you might accidentally meet someone interesting or have more feelings than you’ve carefully rationed out for yourself for that particular day.”

Matt swallows, feeling utterly exposed. It’s not something he would have been able to say for himself an hour ago, but the words feel true to him coming from someone else. He doesn’t like anybody knowing him well enough to know all of that, though, and if it wouldn’t be so utterly obvious, he’d pull away from Foggy right now just to be safe. Like that would even help, he thinks reluctantly.

“You missed your calling not going into psychiatry, Foggy,” he says, stiffly, once he’s gathered his wits enough to form sentences.

Foggy’s hand, warm and a little damp, closes over Matt’s where it’s still resting on his arm. Matt wants nothing more than to flinch away from it, but he controls the urge in the interest of saving face.

“Don’t be mad at me,” Foggy says, quietly, like there’s a chance they might be overheard somehow and he wants Matt to be the only one who hears this. “I’m just trying to tell you that, in avoiding fun and frivolous things, you are not sparing yourself from being hit over the head. If you’re meant to get hit over the head, it’ll happen whenever and wherever Cupid so chooses. It’ll happen at the deli or the bank or while you’re waiting for the bus. Which means that the only thing you’re ultimately sparing yourself from is fun and frivolity, and that’s a stupid way to live your life. That’s all.”

“I think you just called me a moron again,” Matt says, weakly. He doesn’t know what else to say. The rest of it is...too much to consider.

“I called you stupid, actually, but I see your point.”

In the distance, Matt hears the noise of a crowd of people all simultaneously trying to shush each other, with limited success. He imagines even Foggy can hear it too a moment later when they all begin counting aloud.

“Last chance…” Matt says, tipping his head backwards in the direction of the room where everyone’s gathered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Foggy says, apropos of nothing, as far as Matt can tell. He’s about to ask what he means when Foggy continues, anyway. “I have someone who meets your criteria.”

“My criteria?”

“Yeah. You’ll only accept a kiss from someone you’ll see again after tonight, right?”

“Uh, I don’t think I said ‘only’, I just meant—”

“Too bad,” Foggy says, as the countdown reaches its conclusion. “Happy New Year.”

Matt’s halfway through formulating a question or an objection of some kind, which is the only reason he turns in Foggy’s direction at that moment. It’s clear from the noise of surprise Foggy makes that he absolutely had no intention of kissing Matt right on the mouth and was probably, in fact, aiming for his cheek, trying to be funny and charming after Matt was such a spoilsport about the whole kissing at midnight thing. If Matt hadn’t moved, there’s no doubt in his mind that that’s what Foggy would have done and then it would have been over and they’d already be laughing about it and moving on. But Matt did move and, even awkwardly off center, Foggy is kissing him on the mouth right now and they’re both just frozen like that, shocked and useless.

Matt doesn’t give himself much credit for genius. He’s reasonably smart, and can be even smarter if he applies himself to a subject and really studies up on it, but there’s plenty of people in any given room smarter than he is, most of the time. He has his moments, though, and this is one of them. He sees very clearly the two paths available to them. Down one, this moment stretches awkwardly and they allow it to become a source of discomfort and then outright pain that they'll avoid talking about for years, or maybe possibly forever. Regardless, it has the power to ruin their friendship and Matt simply can't abide that. Down the other, they don’t flinch from it and they don’t make it any stranger than it has to be and it becomes one weird but not fully objectionable moment in their long and storied relationship. They’re not going to trot it out as an anecdote at parties, sure, but they’re not going to become crazy about denying it happened either. If Matt can steer them in the direction of the latter, he thinks maybe it will all be okay, but it’s going to require him not to make matters worse. For whatever reason, the only way he can think to not do that is by kissing Foggy back.

It’s immediately apparent that, momentary genius or no, while it does not technically make things worse, it also does not make them better. Then again, Foggy makes a sort of interested noise as he feels Matt return the kiss, which Matt is infinitely better off for knowing about and having heard and being able to think about some other time when he’s alone preferably. 

They don’t take it any farther than just that. They’re not necking in some random person’s hallway or doing anything truly objectionable. They just stay there, mouths pressed together so that Matt can smell (and sort of taste) the champagne Foggy’s had and the last cigarette he smoked and a hint of that sugary gum he always chews, even though he hasn’t had a piece since before they came to the party. It mostly feels, more than anything else, like they’re breathing together and it’s not sexy the way wild, passionate groping in the dark can be, but it’s intimate in its own unique way. Matt, against his own better judgment, puts a hand on Foggy’s cheek, and he doesn't really know why beyond just really wanting to and that seems to be reason enough.

Foggy doesn’t try to slip his tongue into Matt’s mouth—despite the alarming reality that the moment Matt realizes that’s not what he’s doing, he also realizes he’d let him—or try to escalate matters one bit. His hand is still grasping Matt’s collar from when he first pulled him in, but his other one doesn’t roam. His lips, still pressed to Matt’s, only move to exert a little more pressure and to alter the angle at which they meet slightly. He takes precisely zero liberties and makes no effort to get fresh with him at all. It’s very gentlemanly, and Matt doesn’t know what to do with himself because it doesn’t feel awkward or fumbling at all. It feels like restraint, and once he knows that, everything is different.

The tune of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ reaches him from the other room, but it’s drowned out almost entirely by the sound of Foggy’s heartbeat in Matt’s ears. Foggy must hear it too, though, because he breaks their kiss with the worst sort of gentleness, pulling back only enough for them both to have space to breathe but not far enough that Matt can’t feel that breath on his face.

Matt traces his thumb over the curve of Foggy’s cheek before dropping his hand back down into his own lap and licks his lips as he slowly turns away. 

“Happy New Year,” he says, aiming for calm and unaffected and likely missing it by a lot.

“You too,” Foggy says, even though he already said it first. His heart is still beating too fast and too close and too loud for Matt to read his tone, which is too bad, because he’d really like to know how Foggy feels right now and if he feels anything like Matt does.

Because Matt feels like he’s been hit over the head.

✨

[inotanzen]

hiii! i really admire your art skills. and the fact that you improved so much in just 6 months is inspiring! do you have any tips on how to improve? i'm 26 and i want to improve but i feel like ive neglected my art for so long and now it's too late. :(

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH OMG ?? oh man i’m so bad with feeling and gratitude but this seriously means more than i can express so i worked really, really hard on narrowing down my best tips! so here’s

Eli’s Top 5 Rules To Be a Totally Cool Awesome Badass Artist In As Long As It’s Going To Take (In Order) :

Most important rule of all is it should be FUN. be disgustingly self indulgent, draw what you want and LOVE, not what you think you should or what everyone else is, or how everyone else is! don’t vibe with doing sketches first? hate lining? despise complicated painting styles? find shortcuts, don’t do them!!! if you’re doing digital maybe draw your sketches traditionally first and scan them/take a photo to draw over, try a lineless style, cel shading, or mixing mediums, the options are endless! this is where your “style” will come from. all “style” is, is an artists shorthand.

You are your only competition. never compare your progress to anyone but your past self, it’s not a race in terms of how good you are at X age after X amount of time spent practicing. i saw it illustrated in this comic a few years ago (that made me cry at the time, because i hadn’t started drawing yet) as seeing your skills as a beautiful potted plant- just because some people are walking around with theirs fully grown and thriving, doesn’t mean your little sprout will stay small forever. just be patient, keep watering it, and eventually, it’ll be a beautiful flower all your own. ❀

Use references Obsessively. this includes tracing! (ethically) there’s a ton of resources out there, redraws of frames from movie or shows are great too! play around with it, try using the perspective but change the style or turn it into a character au for a fandom you love. (this is part of that first tip!) mashing together images past the point of original intelligibility is acceptable as well. the goal isn’t to obsess over accuracy or stop using references altogether though, just to use them differently over time.

Inspiration/motivation won’t be gone forever. don’t force yourself to practice drawing, or you’ll end up resenting it altogether. i’ve had my tablet and pencil since january but i say 6 months bc there were two (almost three) entire months where i had no inspiration and just did Nothing. take time to consume new media for ideas or look at what inspires you instead! keep folders of the things you find most appealing to pull up when you need them. art can be a freeing escape if you allow it to be!

Look at art you admire and think about Why you admire it. why does it look good, what catches your eye most? is it the colors? the lighting? the shapes and perspective? the varied line thicknesses or the overall layout composition? everything can be broken down into components, hone in on the ones you like most and try to emulate them. we’re all just flowing down the stream of shared inspiration together. :)

bonus digital art tip: you will always need more layers than you think you do. give each element its own layer like it’s the most introverted mf you’ve ever met, i swear on everything good in this cursed world you will thank me later. layer/item selection and transform are your best goddamn friends for life.

there’s also a lot of art related posts in this tag and on my art twitter ♡ thank you endlessly again and good luck on your journey!!

[trippin-over-my-fandoms]

Hi so if this is a weird ask yet what are your thoughts on what Allison did to Luther.

I was furious! Livid is probably a better word but when they kissed I had to pause the show and go vent to my sister bc “of all the comic book things I’ve been hoping for and THATS what they give us?” I’ve been rooting for Mr. Pennycrumb (sad he couldn’t be Five’s dog but he still made it in!) and the twins reveal (which we won’t get but ah well I can live w that) so to get the non-consensual Luther/Allison was a massive shock. But other than the initial shock and anger I had/have some other feelings!

I was actually fearful it might cause a rift between Luther and Sloane actually! Ever since Allison first saw him with Sloane actually I feared that- even before 3 came out! I worried she might rumor one or both or maybe even just say something off hand. Which it’s very interesting to me that the kiss was the only thing netflix did. Luther didn’t even bring up his past with Allison to Sloane (and I’m wondering if there’s a season 4 and crossing my fingers Sloane is okay if it’ll happen then), instead they made Sloane/Luther the “the world is ending but we have each other so everything is okay actually” couple. The sunshine couple in short. Which is fine! I love them as is- but there was certainly a drama opportunity there! And maybe they didn’t go with it because it would have drawn it out and maybe they wanted to steer clear of a full blown love triangle side plot with everything else going on.

Overall I think the direction the took Allison in this season is so, so interesting. I mean, in season one she’s definitely entitled and used to getting what she wants with her power but her divorce and losing connection with her daughter because of it clearly shook her that set her on the “I’m done using my ability to get what I want” path she’s on in season 2. And then in season 2 she’s undergone this massive transformation- she’s a progressive icon making waves in desegregation movements and shes made a real like for herself without cheating her way through it. So to end up in season 3 for all of that progress to disappear and then some, to the point she’s literally in her villain arc- is so interesting. I’ve never been a Allison fan like I am a Luther fan, like the other siblings I love the academy but am very much obsessed with Luther, so I’d be so curious to see how an Allison stan would view her change. I enjoyed it, I think it’s interesting, but it’s certainly shocking. I can’t wait to see how she further develops in season 4 (fingers crossed!). And it’s also as Emmy said in a video on that exact scene- trauma shows itself in a lot of different ways and for her it’s just spewing out into anger and a coldness she’s never seemed to let herself experience before.

I really liked how moments before Luther actually stood up to her. Which he doesn’t do really at all in regards to any of his family. Him telling her she can’t just use him like that whenever she wants was a big move- as big of a move as the “family shouldn’t hurt this much” line from season 2 when talking to Lila about the Handler but also acknowledging his own pain in regards to Reginald. Luther has been getting some massive character development arcs that are actually pretty subtle which makes me really wanna go back and watch all three seasons over to see if I can pick up on that for any of the other siblings- it may even provide more insight to Allison. Because I am an absolute sucker for why people (more specifically characters) do what they do and what leads up to those actions.

I think the moment it happened she definitely got vibe checked but it did not change her attitude. Possibly inflicting a “well I clearly can’t ever do anything right and I’m always the bad guy so I might as well be that” kind of mentality.

This became such a tangent because I have so many season 3 feelings! So uh, TL;DR, that was not the comic book accuracy I was expecting, it shocked me and I had to take a second to calm down! I don’t hate Allison but I definitely don’t like her actions! I’m interested to see what happens in wake of that moment, and if it’ll ever come up between Sloane and Luther!

[thotly-thoughts-101]

Unwanted Pining

Summary: Mykaelis North, a young trans man in the city, except its not the city he knows. It's New York from Sam Rami's Spider-Man movies. One of his favorite film franchises. The issue is, Mykaelis is from 2022, not 2002, which happens to be the year he was born. So now he's an adult in a time full of technology that he has no idea how to use, all while being the unfortunate recipient of affection. Working in Oscorp for a boss who takes an uncomfortable interest in him, and a friend who has become an unfortunately accurate conspiracy theorist. Kae however, has his heart set on his idol and guilty pleasure, Otto Octavius, who finds this unfortunate protagonist endearing and intelligent, yet incredibly dense. As always, shit can and will go wrong in this turn around romance, full of wit, humor, and Kae being awkward as all fuck.

Pairings?: Otto x Kae, Norman x Kae

Warnings: Language, drugs, fire, food/eating, mentions of death, night terrors, Norman is kinda creepy, conspiracies, tumblr is real here, fax machines.

A/n: Hiya! I'm the author of Unwanted pining, this is an 18+ story, as it covers some mature themes as the story progresses. Kaelis is a self insert and this fic is pure therapy for me while I navigate my life. Likes, reposts comments and asks are always appreciated, keep 'em appropriate and constructive, bullying and harassment will just get you blocked.

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCING THE MODERN PROTAG. ITS ME, IM THE PROTAG

Multi universe traveling sucks ass, I know this. How? Well I’m not from this universe, superheroes aren’t real in my world, unless you look in movies or comic books. But this, this was a spiderman universe. Tobey Miguire, if I am thinking correctly. Which meant only one thing… Doctor Octopus, and the Green Goblin, if this was following No way home, they might still be alive. That or this is all before those events and none of the original events have happened yet.

I hummed while I ate my three dollar hot dog. Who knew that New York street food was so expensive? I sure as hell didn’t, I’m just some trans boy with dyed hair and no way to have a life, unless I got into the hero industry, or the villain industry. However, both occupations required more smarts and physical capabilities than I was able to produce. Maybe I could be a street performer, read poetry or something? It wasn’t my worst idea. But it certainly wasn’t my best.

I was disrupted from my thoughts by a harsh shove as some guy ran past me, making me drop my food, “Hey!” I shouted, hands up in frustration, “What the fuck man?!”

He didn’t even respond, but people kept running past me. Scowling I turned around to see whatever was causing such a raucous. With a dim expression that could have only radiated boredom, I watched a glowing copper ball roll to my feet. Internally, I was thrilled, an opportunity to live out my protestor dreams. I picked up the pumpkin bomb and threw it into the air with all the aggression a wimpy looking person like me could. By that I meant, that bitch was gone, it was just in the air, and it exploded, to no effect, as no people, or goblins, for that matter, were within the blast range.

I, however, was left to face a hovering Goblin, and Spider-man, staring at me. “What?” I asked, still pretty pissed that I no longer had any more food, but I feigned innocence, “I’d always wanted to do that, who was I to ignore the impulse to yeet?”

“Yeet?” Spiderman responded, “That’s a new one.”

“What exactly does it mean to yeet?” Goblin asked, tilting his oversized helmet in a way that really only reminded me of a puppy.

“You know, to throw something really fast,” I smiled, it definitely looked forced, “There is Kobe, for accuracy and yeet for speed, and to take something really fast is yoink.” I was elaborating too much, wasn’t I? But at least I had halted the fighting for a time to explain a universal and time difference, I guess.

Spider-man seemed to perk up at the word yoink, “I know that last one!” He paused, “but that doesn’t explain why you threw a pumpkin bomb in the air.”

I blinked, a little bit faster than I intended, “I wasn’t just…you know, going to let it kill me.”

“So you threw it?” The Goblin’s voice sounded more like Norman Osborn by now, maybe I had defused the fight with my other universal slang and trauma response, “Are you insane?”

Oh my gods, was he aware how ironic that was?

I shook my head, “I just wanted to live out that one fantasy from seeing riots on TV.”

And at that I ran, using what little ability I had left over from cross country and my idiodic desire to climb stuff to join the swarm of people watching from a distance. I watched the two masked beings stare at each other before the Green Goblin flew off, presumably to go back to his big ass penthouse and let Norman rest off the confusion. Spider-Man however, webbed off in the other direction and the crowd disbursed, leaving me standing in the street.

Maybe I could try out that hero shit. But first, to find out if I had been swapped out, and if I even existed.

—

Though some weird fanfic trope bullshit, I had apparently been a missing person for like, three years. They did let me collect the reward, which was a bonus, but I did have to explain the whole transgender thing to my parents, who were still married, which I don’t recall them being married, but whatever, healthy marriage pog? I think they were only accepting because they were thrilled to have their kid back, I did choose to stay in New York though.

Why did I do that?

One, I kinda liked the danger, and who was I kidding, in my own universe I was probably going to seek out the son of a mob boss or some shit like that.

(haha… you know who you are)

But job opportunities were booming in the city, during normal hours I worked as a receptionist for Oscorp, to keep an eye on the action, of course. And off hours, I went about salvaging junk parts and roadkill. It was a good life for me and my ever growing cluster of plants that were taking up my single room apartment.

Norman Osborn never died, which means this was the NO WAY HOME ark, where everyone got cured of whatever made them into who they are.

I mainly found myself keeping alone, knowing that either way, Doc Ock was still bound to die. He was my favorite from the movies, and his redemption arc was so important to me.

Years passed, and the doctor did die, his fusion reactor going down with him in the ocean. As one does when they are in mourning, I dressed in my most work appropriate Victorian dandy clothes. I really had no shame in showing how I mourned. It had been roughly three years since I had been thrown into this universe, and I wasn’t about to just change my whole lifestyle.

Today was no different, save for the fact that I was now standing in the elevator to see the man in charge. I adjusted my vest, fully expecting to be reprimanded for my choice in dress for a work day. Rather, I was greeted by the much older man with a smile.

“Mr. North, thank you for coming in today,” he shook my hand with a strange sort of energy, “come in, have a seat, coffee?”

I found myself sitting in Norman Osborn’s office, shaking my head politely, “No thank you sir… you wanted to speak to me?”

He nodded, donning a serious expression as he sat down, “Yes, Mykaelis, I had noticed you taking a special interest in Dr. Octavius’s work and his…accident, no?”

I nodded, “Yes, well, I can explain sir, Dr. Octavius presented a fascinating case on the subject of clean energy and his work with the actuators could be used– if to a less extreme degree– to help amputees or those who need physical aid to overcome obstacles that exist in an ableist society… I was just curious, if anything.”

I could feel his gaze on me as he spoke, “I see,” he paused, “Well, I would like to offer you a new position, if you are interested.”

“That depends on the job, sir.”

“You would be archiving Dr. Octavius’s items, from his abandoned workshop in the harbor, his office, the police, and his home, you would be housing and cataloging them in what used to be his research office in Oscorps main building, here.”

I thought about it, I swear I did, but I only had one question, “What’s the pay?”

Norman laughed, well, it was more of a cackle, “of course, you would be paid by the hour until I know if I would like to keep you as an archivist, but how does $45 an hour sound?”

And here I was thinking he would be skimping on me, “That sounds like a deal to me Mr. Osborn.”

“You can just call me Norman,” He slid the official document to me, “sign here, and if anyone gives you trouble, send them to me.”

I grazed the documents before signing my life away to salvage the remains of the life of a man I only knew through film, “Of course sir.”

[visionaxry]

TOP 10 TV SHOWS I WATCHED IN 2020

1. Dear White People

This show goes on the top tier of my favorite shows ever. It’s been around since 2017 (after the eponymous movie of 2014) but only this year I finally got the chance to watch it. Truly one of the best written shows I’ve ever seen, with such compelling characters and story. While I love to watch series with hard hitting social topics, it’s usually very emotionally exhausting for me. However, DWP manages to balance the gravity of its plot with a bright outlook. Besides, I always love to see different characters’ perspectives so the format of DWP is extremely engaging.

2. Grand Army

Grand Army is not your typical teen drama. It’s very raw and real. Five protagonists pull you into the story, and whether you hate them or love them, they don’t let you go. All characters feel like actual people you could know in real life. The show talks about racism, terrorism, sexual assault, white feminism, poverty, homophobia, bullying and more. I also love the way the show uses phones and social media, which you rarely get to see in teen shows. It doesn’t feel glossy or over dramatic. It does get graphic and dark, but it makes you care about the fate of its characters. Here, we also get to see five different perspectives. That and the rawness reminded me of SKAM, although GA is way less cheerful. It could also be compared to Euphoria with it’s portrayal of real issues, but I feel like GA hits the spot much better (and has more diversity).

Finding out that the creator is racist, upon finishing the binge, left me shocked and quite conflicted. I hope they will change the showrunner for season 2 (if it gets renewed). 

3. The Great 

I’m not much of a period drama fan but this one’s no typical historical shows. It plays around historical figures, but you shouldn’t take that too seriously, just like the show itself. It’s a great (haha get it) fun to watch. The combination of comedy with the actual life or death peril creates a unique experience. Each episode the tables turn, you feel both, betrayed and enticed. Not to mention, Elle Fanning and Nicholas Hoult’s chemistry and performances are phenomenal. Overall, it feels like a strawberry blew up in your mouth (take it however you want).

4. Dickinson

Dickinson is similar to The Great in a sense of historical accuracy. And I’m grateful for it, because seeing the 19th century nobility twerking at a party was something that brought me an immense amount of joy. Of course, you get to see Emily Dickinson’s poetic and original inner world, which is handled quite creatively.

5. The Queen’s Gambit

This is just a very well written, portrayed and produced story. Even if you feel like it wouldn’t be your cup of tea (I mean a period piece about chess? Come on), chances are once you put the show, you won’t be able to stop. It’s a limited series with a star struck cast which pretty much reads like a prolonged film. It’s also pretty suitable to watch with your family, if usually you struggle to find a common interest.

6. Julie and the Phantoms

This show certainly exceeded everyone’s expectations. It may seem like a typical kids show, but it’s smart, deep and entertaining. The music is incredible and it’s impossible not to fall in love with characters. Also, here’s the proof that your show doesn’t need to have graphic scenes and oversexualized underaged characters to be good. 

7. Saved By the Bell: the reboot

So I didn’t watch the original show, but the reboot caught my attention mostly because of Josie Totah, and because the vibe of the show just felt like something I would like. And I was absolutely right. Perhaps it’s not everyone’s cup of tea (and what is?) but to me it’s hilarious. A sort of heart-warming witty little show with gen z humor and interesting diverse characters. Definitely my new comfort show. And Lexi’s my queen.  

8. Outer Banks

Released during self-isolation it became a way for the viewers to live vicariously through the risky outdoor adventures. Perhaps, that’s why it’s such a hit and a bit overrated. Don’t get me wrong, I really liked (why do you think it’s on this list). It’s not an outstanding show, might be cheesy and raise some questions (like how can they all be teenagers looking like that?) but it’s entertaining and engaging, and sometimes that’s all you need.

9. I am not okay with this

Let’s take a moment of silence for this amazing show being cancelled. Do you like Teotfw or Stranger Things, or better yet both? This show’s for you! It’s unique, dynamic, feels like you’re reading a comic book. Has a certain mystery to it and its own distinct voice. It also feels retro and nostalgic, even though it’s set in modern day.

10. Love, Victor [SPOILERS]

There’s a lot of things I wish I could change about the show to make it better: For starters, more representation. I mean you’re making a show, not exclusively, but primarily for the lgbtq+ community and you only have two main gay characters? What’s that about? There are so many possibilities to make other characters not straight. E.g. Mia and Lake could be couple goals, Pilar being bi, Andrew – definite bi energy. Secondly, the cheating trope is so exhausting and overdone in gay storylines. It doesn’t add drama, it just makes the couple and the characters hard to root for. Also, making the love interest so obvious was so underwhelming after everything we went through in Love, Simon. I was kind of hoping for a surprise love interest until the end.

Regardless of all that, no matter how far from teenage reality this show is, it was cute. And even though I rooted for the secondary characters way more than the main one, I’m still excited to see what they come up with for S2.

[tainted-wine]

Evil Demonic Music

Priest!Reader X Demon!Present Mic

Hizashi has a large and filling feast on every Halloween night. He’s been doing it since before you were born. Yet here you are crashing his party while smelling like fresh meat in a den of wolves. It’s entirely your fault for throwing off his groove.

Disclaimer: Reader is more reminiscent of an action priest in a gothic action movie or anime. There’s little to no accuracy here. Lightning will most likely strike me the next time I venture outside.

Words: 7.9k

Warnings: Noncon/Dubcon, Christian Themes, Possession/Mind Control, Orgy, Public Sex, Sorta Corruption, Downer Ending

🎃👻🎃HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE!🎃👻🎃

------------x------------

Yuuei Club Presents “Dance With The Devil” Halloween Event LIVE Music by Present Mic Costumes Encouraged // Doors Open at 8 p.m.

It looked innocent enough; a graphical poster on the door of a building surrounded by smaller businesses in the outlet. It masked itself well in the daytime with its plain exterior, devoid of any attractive decorations save for the club’s name that glowed in hypnotizing neon when night falls. All of its temptations were contained inside, dormant until it was filled with careless souls seeking unholy pleasures.

You didn’t hate them for it. The temptation to sin is strong. It’s how evil thrives, and the average person lacks the strength to resist. It’s your duty to protect all people, even the faithless, from evil’s many devices. 

Like this nightclub.

Party locations like these were an uncommon feeding ground, although now that you think about it, the muddled and vulnerable minds residing within should make for easy meals. The loud and nonsensical “music” and absolute lack of restraint that the people displayed was baffling, but your task is to guard souls, not convert and guide them back to Heaven’s path. One demon in particular, however, favored ‘party animals’ more than any other creature from the vile depths.

“Easy there! You glare at this place any harder and it might combust!”

To the average human, the monster that appears beside you is nothing more than a tall blonde man with an inviting smile, but he can’t hide himself from the blessed and perceptive. Beneath the guise of spice and incense, he reeks of smoke and brimstone.

Hizashi, as he called himself, will never fool you.

“Stay back,” spit nearly flies from how harshly you say the words. You know that he can’t harm you, not while you wear your cross around your neck and calmly hold thoughts of your Lord in your mind. Still, you warn the dangerous fiend to keep his distance.

He obeys and innocently raises his hands. “Hey hey, you know I’m not out to hurt you, and you’re not gonna pull anything with that crafty little weapon there, right?”

No, you weren’t going to take a stab at him with the blade hidden in your holy necklace. You tried it before, an attempt to drive it into his back when he wasn’t looking. His hand caught your wrist at a speed you couldn’t comprehend – you were certain that you didn’t blink, yet you didn’t even see him move at all. His friendly smile didn’t waver, not a hint of anger visible on his face.

“Careful, baby priest! Don’t mean to sound cocky, but I’m way out of your league.” The warning wasn’t in his words, but in the heat of Hell itself that briefly washed over you, a sensation so powerful and real that you feared you were being dragged down that very instant. But the unseen flames died off the second he released your hand, eyes flashing a bloody red before returning to their usual emerald hues.

That was the first and only time you tried to banish him.

“I don’t trust you, but I’m not stupid,” was your answer, making sure not to let your hatred and disgust cloud your mind. He might take hold of that.

It was a satisfactory response, going by his bright beam of a smile. So friendly and inviting.

Months had passed when you finally accepted that he was a demon who genuinely enjoyed living alongside humans. He never spoke ill of your fellow men and commended them for their many ways of enjoying their short lives. Most demons you’ve dealt with favor negative emotions. Fear, sorrow, anger… those cold and bitter feelings attracted hellbeasts like flies to honey. 

But this one? He fed on mortals that were as cheerful and carefree as him. All of this still wasn’t enough to convince you that he is truly gentle, however.

Hizashi stayed where he was, staring at his own promotional poster. The urge to leave was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t let him know how much he unnerved you with just his presence alone. Instead, you shuffle awkwardly and try not to utter prayers of protection. Whether or not that will anger him is something you don’t want to find out.

He rocks back and forth on his heels. “Are you pumped for the best night of the year? Man, Halloween never gets old for me, especially in this day and age. Everyone dancing while dressed like a bunch of monsters...it’s almost like I’m at home! Humans sure know how to party like tomorrow is The Cleansing.”

“Yes, and it’s shameful,” you humor him. “I have no interest in debauchery.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called having a good time, babe. Put the tome down and loosen up every once in a while.”

Put down the tome?

Loosen up?

Babe?

How dare he make you even entertain the thought of abandoning your teachings. You just know he’s trying to rile you up, to make you lose control. You won’t let him have his way. “I have my good times in moderation, on days when I praise God with my brothers and sisters with a glass of wine. There is discipline in everything, even celebration. Heathens simply get drunk and lose themselves in the madness.”

The demon chuckled as he ran his fingers through long golden locks. Just the beautiful sheen of his hair could probably attract the greedy. “Yep. Times sure do change, don’t they?”

“They don’t just change, they’re desecrated. What was once a day to ward off evil spirits now does the exact opposite. They’re too busy with their consumerism, candy, haunted houses…”

“Oh yeah, those haunted attractions are wild. So many of my buddies gorge themselves there. Free fear for the taking, ya dig?”

Despicable.

“And you don’t?” You test him. He was a conversationalist; a few probing questions won’t bother him, surely.

He withdraws his phone, scrolling through the screen for something. “Come on, you know me by now, don’t you? That sour stuff isn’t for me.”

“Forgive me for still struggling to trust you.” Sarcasm felt too risky, actually. You won’t use it again.

“Heh, no offense taken! You priests know just how cruel we can be sometimes. Mortals learned from the best, after all.”

Your lips twitch. His curve into a more wicked grin.

Every single passerby can’t seem to resist giving you odd looks. You can feel the eyes behind you as people make their way around the shops. Your garb wasn’t that strange; they’re acting like they’ve never seen a person in a robe and wearing several divine artifacts before. They would too if they knew what Hizashi was, who has yet to garner a single look of suspicion.

Ridiculous, his casual getup is actually fooling them. Perhaps the silly villainous mustache wasn’t big enough to give him away.

“Ah, here it is!” You nearly jumped from his voice and how quickly he leaned in, a video playing on his phone. “Just tap on the screen to play it an-”

“I know how to use a phone,” You hiss, taking the device from his hand and shooting him a glance every few seconds in case he tried something. 

The video was chaos, an unsteady view of flashing lights and thumping heavy beats. Whoever held it was smack dab in the middle of an energetic crowd that sang and danced like barbaric animals. It was an orgy of overindulgence. Too much drinking with their comically shaped cups and bottles, too much lust in their crude excuse of a dance, and synthetic drums that dragged on for so damn long, even the beat sounded drunk. It’s not the first time you heard the horrid noise; it unfortunately appears to be popular among the masses. 

God help these poor souls.

“Last year’s party.” Hizashi’s words cut through your thoughts. “Pretty hype, huh? Nothing gets my listeners goin’ like a hard trap beat!”

Oh? So he’s fully admitting it now? “So you’re calling it what it is, are you? Trapping them with your satanic melodies?”

The confusion on his face was very convincing, but you knew better. “What? No, that’s what the music is called.” 

You couldn’t help but snort. “Please, demon. What do you think sounds more believable: A genre of music with such a simplistic and misleading name, or evil tunes that your kind uses to ensnare unassuming mortals that don’t know any better?”

“....um…”

“I thought so.” To think that he’d slip up so easily. He wasn’t as clever as he thought. “Tell me what happened to the people in this video. Are they alive? Or did you drain them until they were nothing more than lifeless husks?”

There was a snicker behind you. Both you and Hizashi turned around to see a young man holding his phone up with an amused smile, giving a little wave after being noticed. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I really like your costume, miss. Your acting is awesome, too.” With that, he put away his phone and whatever images he now has of you and continued on his merry way.

Impertinent juveniles.

“Anyway, they’re all fine,” Hizashi said, eyes returning to the door while tapping his feet to a beat you can’t hear. “I know how to feed without causing any serious harm. Even if I do go a little overboard, they’ll just brush it off as having too much to drink.”

“It doesn’t matter how good you are at controlling yourself. You’re an evil entity invading human minds.” It takes every bit of strength to not flinch when he looks at you. Again, there’s no anger – there’s never anger with him – and it makes you all the more uneasy. Maybe a being as ancient and influential as him doesn’t find a novice exorcisor like you worth getting angry or even annoyed over. “Your stench will remain on those people forever, attracting more of your kind to them unless someone like me finds and cleanses them.”

He shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck. “Come on, your boy is doing his best here. What do you want me to do? Starve?” He considers what he just said for a moment before laughing. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. Look, I ain’t leaving the stage, little priest. I’m addicted. The noise, the energy, the way everyone just loses themselves in all of it.”

The way his tongue peeks out to swipe over his upper lip has every hair on your skin sticking up.

“Man, I wish they knew just how sweet their own essence is when they’re caught up in the lights and music. Sweeter than any candy the kids will be bringing home tonight.”

He compares consuming pieces of a soul to children’s treats. “You’re really not helping your case,” you remark.

Another shrug. “C’mon, you say that like I actually have a chance at winning with you! I won’t hurt anyone in there. You have my word.”

You scoffed. “A demon’s word is-”

“Worthless, I know. See what I mean?” He withdrew a ring of keys out of his pocket. “Welp, I think we’ve stood here and stared at the door long enough. I gotta prep for the big night. Thanks for the company!” A few more seconds pass when he finds the right key and opens the entrance to the club. 

You didn’t follow him inside. That would be careless.

Now it’s only you observing the building that will soon hold a giant living feast for the hungry monster. After another passing compliment about your “cool and authentic costume”, you figured you’ve stood around long enough. It was time to head home.

And find a way to keep everyone safe.

He was right; you have no way of getting rid of him yourself. That doesn’t mean you’ll stand by while knowing what danger these people will be walking into when night arrives. You’re not afraid to put your life on the line if it means protecting His children from the many evils on earth. When the first step of your plan takes root in your head, you change routes and make your way to the nearest costume shop.

Hizashi won’t be having his fill tonight.

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

8:30 p.m.

You weren’t expecting to encounter two demons tonight.

Well, perhaps that term isn’t appropriate. There is no sort of aura attached to the dark-haired man that you can trace back to the pits of Hell, but he is undoubtedly a creature of evil. One that was birthed from the shadows, living for eternity by lurking in darkness and drinking the blood of any unfortunate mortal that catches his eye.

“I knew it. I knew someone so close to Hizashi couldn’t be human.”

The vampire at the lively club’s entrance didn’t seem fazed by your accusation. He wasn’t even hiding himself. The sly bloodsucker knows that his crimson irises and enlarged fangs will be mistaken for prosthetics. Very convincing prosthetics.

“Nice to see you too,” he deadpans. 

You’re getting a little tired of these beasts brushing you off. “So what’s your feeding plan here? Waiting to find an innocent maiden who wishes to see the sinful wonders inside, then take her to the back and drain her dry?”

“Like you?” The smirk doesn’t reveal any teeth, but his predatory eyes are enough to make you step back and grip the cross that still hangs around your neck. Your reaction makes him chuckle darkly before he returns to his regular disinterested self. “I already ate.” That monster. “I’m here because Hizashi thought I’d make for good security.”

“So you intend to drink from anyone that steps out of line?”

“No.”

“Lies. Look here, vampire…”

“My name is Shouta.”

“...You and your friend won’t be preying on these naive humans for much longer. He told me about his trap music, but I won’t let his songs bewitch anyone tonight.”

He stared at you, one eyebrow quirked high up. “Alright...can you give me your hand already? There’s a line growing behind you.”

You look over your shoulder, and there is indeed a line of disgruntled people dressed as various monsters and characters. You have to admit that their costumes look to be of higher quality than the angel outfit you hastily bought in the store’s clearance section. The fuzzy headband for your halo was itchy and your flimsy wings were on the verge of falling off with every sudden movement.

With a glare that messaged him not to try anything, you cautiously extended your arm. He took your hand in his – deathly cold – and wrapped a thin paper tag around your wrist. “Have fun.” 

You always hate it when you can’t read their smiles.

The suffocating darkness around him was lifted when you made your way to the same doors you were looking at with so much contempt this morning. Glancing back, you saw others happily complimenting his ‘spooky’ appearance, to which he responded with either a quick thanks or a grunt. None of them seemed to notice his chilling aura or ice-cold touch.

Why must they be so blind to the evils that walk beside them everyday?

When you stepped in, the music nearly blasted you back outside. So loud, but not like the angelic choirs during gospel. You didn’t feel lifted, you just felt bombarded by pure noise. A repetitive tempo made the entire building pulse like a heartbeat. This didn’t sound like the music Hizashi supposedly used to put the crowd under a spell. It just repeated the same forsaken beat over and over again. Perhaps the repetition is meant to ease the victim’s mind and lure them in a false sense of security, then those long rolling beats will come in next, ensnaring them when their guard is down. Clever, but not clever enough.

You passed the lounge and bar area, paying no mind to the lecherous behavior around you. Boisterous laughs, alcohol being carelessly chugged…

“Hey there, angel.” A man dressed as a superhero nearly tripped over his own cape in his attempt to approach you. “You as innocent as you look? I can introduce you to the boUUUURP.” The sudden belch burned your poor eyes with the stinging smell of rum.

Lord have mercy on both you and these savages.

“No thank you,” you said through gritted teeth and brushed past him. The lights and colors are disorienting. Strobe lights, spotlights whizzing across the walls and floor, and vibrant ever-changing shapes on every surface. The intoxicated folk probably welcomed the flashing chaos. When you drink at the church, your sips stay modest and controlled, ensuring to never reach the stage of drunkenness. If you were feeling ‘buzzed’, as they would say, this musical and optical discourse would likely feel pleasant, like entering a world devoid of rules and consequences.

Also known as a world of sin.

A huge mass of bouncing bodies covered the dancefloor, and there on an elevated platform, acting as an advanced musical throne, was the evil orchestrator of the chaos.

And those long curved obsidian horns were most definitely real.

Even as he tampered with the many buttons and dials before him, Hizashi moved as wildly as his prey, too caught up in his own infernal electronic hymns to even notice your presence. Surely your chaste energy sticks out among these wrongdoers like a dove in a pit of serpents.

You need to activate your blessing before he eats. Good thing the vampire didn’t bother to inspect your costume for any natural evil repellents that you happened to be carrying.

Your self-made pockets were filled with sage and rosemary, common herbs used to drive away demons and spirits. You sprinkle them onto the floor as you continue to make your way to the center, where your power will work most efficiently.  Hopefully their scent will not be overpowered by the sweaty bodies and breaths laced with alcohol of all kinds.

Pushing through the dancing crowd was an arduous task. The music had since switched to something faster and more aggressive. The hectic sounds in this one was making you miss the boring but calmer tunes from before. You never considered what the sound of a robot vomiting would sound like, but it would probably sound similar to the cacophony of ‘whirs’ and ‘wubs’ that were assaulting your ears.

The mass was pushing and tossing you every which way. The variety of masks and makeup beneath the constant moving lights was rather frightening. Of course, you’ve dealt with plenty of real monsters, but it disturbed you to see your fellow man acting in such a frenzied matter in such a perplexing setting. You can see why Hizashi adored this environment. You couldn’t tell the difference between man and beast.

Straightening your halo, you decide that this spot will fare well enough.

Now it was time to apply holy water around your feet. Just a few drops of the blessed fluid will be enough to protect everyone here.

You close your eyes, ignore the many bodies bumping against you, and pray.

O Lord, protect me from temptation.

The water trickles out before you.

O Lord, forgive those who have been led astray.

“WOOOO SHIT! THIS IS MY JAM!”

The nearby exclamation makes your eyebrow twitch.

For we know that your power is greater than any evil.

The song is deafening, but you keep going.

Grant, O Lord, the protection fro-

Someone violently collides into you, knocking the bottle right out of your hands and rolling away to disappear behind the wall of stomping shoes.

Shit! Forgive my language, Father!

You elbow the fools blocking your way, ignoring the occasional “hey” or “watch it” during your desperate search for the most important tool against evil influences.

You didn’t even finish your prayer. You need to at least do that first, before it’s too late. Clapping your hands together, you shut your eyes again and moved your lips rapidly.

OLordprotectmefromtemptationOLordforgivetosewhohavebeenledastrayforweknowthatyourpowerisgreaterthanany-

“HERE COMES THE DROP!”

The rhythm and bass changed drastically, and with it came a powerful wave of raw exhilaration.

It’s like a force was injecting every positive chemical directly into your bloodstream. The abundance of newfound energy needed to be released, just like the tension that was released from that beat drop.

Your hips are swaying in a way you’ve never moved them before, and you can’t make them stop.

Stop! Stop, please! This is his doing!

“How are my listeners doin’ tonight?!”

The demon’s voice booms through the speakers, seeping into your ears and filling you with so much excitement that you can’t help but cheer with everyone else. Your senses feel simultaneously enhanced and dulled. The humans around you were out of focus, but the diabolical DJ up ahead was so clear, it’s like you were right in front of him. The hunger in his currently red eyes struck fear in you even as you danced.

“Woo, I’m lovin’ this energy! Thanks for coming by this Halloween, ya little monsters! Now...bring this house down!”

Your heart accelerates from the rush and you begin to jump in sync with the possessed crowd. Even the people standing by or sitting at the bars couldn’t resist, joining the growing horde on the dancefloor to jump in unison. 

It was unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Not a care in the world. No customs, no praise. It didn’t give you that warm feeling of ascension. Instead you just felt...liberated.

No!

Struggling in the demon’s grip, you cleared your thoughts just enough to try to calm yourself and regain control.

Utter a prayer. Hurry. Focus. You need His protection.

‘Baby priest? Is that you?’

That is not the mighty entity you wanted to hear. The voice echoes in your head, impossible to escape. When your eyes open, you see that above the vast sea of faces, Hizashi is staring right at you. 

‘I thought the dancefloor smelled a little weird! I was so busy feelin’ the beat that I almost missed you!’  You watched him laugh as he continued to violate your mind. Damn him. Wasn’t possessing you cruel enough? ‘Please, no prayers when I’m about to dig in. That’s gonna leave a bad taste in my mouth. Just keep groovin’ like everyone else!”

Your limbs obeyed without your consent and followed the rhythm. This didn’t even sound like the music you heard in the video. Were you just foolish in thinking that he only used one specific sound to trap his victims?

With another change in the bassline, a heavier weight invaded, reaching right into the depths of your heart and tugging at your very soul. You know that fear will only make you more defenseless, but there was no fighting the terror that overtook you.

Not when a demon was feeding from you.

Your brain clashed with itself. You had to keep fighting, even as he stole a fragment of what your gracious Heavenly Father had gifted you and every human, but the cheerful voices implanted in your mind begged you to stop worrying and just give in already.

There was no stopping your movements or the unending rush that surged as strongly as the music. Only now, as he completely ignored your holy safety measures and tainted your soul as easily as the oblivious heathens surrounding you, did you fully understand just how great the differences in power between him and you were.

‘Whoa...holy shit.’

The breathless moan in your head made you shudder. 

‘I haven’t tasted a human as pure as you in ages.’ 

“Please! You’ve already fed from me!” You scream out loud as the mob revels in the thrilling sensation of having a part of them sucked away. Your voice is drowned out by the music and shouts, yet you know that the horrid fiend can hear you loud and clear. “Just get out of my head!”

The dancing stops.

The music stops.

Everything stops.

It’s relieving to finally let your body rest from the forced celebration. The lights still flash and move in the dead silence. Every single person in all of their costumed glory turns and pins you with a sharp glare. Their eyes were unfocused and glazed over, consciousness elsewhere. Hizashi was in full control of all of them.

The demon himself looked down at you, no longer wearing his usual friendly and carefree smile. He was now showing the more twisted happiness you were used to seeing on his kind.

Crazed and eager to devour.

He spoke into the microphone on his headset, voice low and eerily calm. “Angel, you can’t just give me a sample of a five-star meal and expect me to not want more.”

The dread threatens to make you faint.

“Hey, none of that!” He laughs and switches back to his cheery tone. “I told you the negative emotions aren’t for me. I mean, a lady as sweet as you is gonna taste delicious either way. Why don’t you come on up here?”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to flee from this entire situation that you foolishly believed you were ready for. You thought you could sneak into this age-old creature’s gathering and force him to go hungry for the night.

Cockiness treads horribly close to pride, and pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.

You clearly didn’t have a say in the matter, what with your feet moving forward on their own. Every individual in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path from you to Hizashi’s platform. Their eyes never left, heads slowly turning as they watched you slowly climb the steps with legs that trembled from your resistance.

As he stood tall clad in leather behind the large mixer table, you noticed along with his sturdy horns, he also sported a black pointed tail that lazily swayed behind him. And his stench...the foul smell that would often make you crinkle your nose was replaced with a pleasing fragrance, like a sweet and fruity beverage. It was undoubtedly the work of his spell; everything about him has suddenly become tempting.

At this point you were wishing for the music to return so that you couldn’t hear your thunderous heartbeat as you stopped right in front of him. His hellish eyes observed you from head to toe, holding his chin between his fingers before shaking his head and smirking.

“Ya really couldn’t find a better costume?” He snickered as he got closer and fiddled with your cheaply-made gown. You avoided looking directly into his eyes, afraid of falling into the blood-red depths and never finding your way back out.  “Or do you priests work on a budget?” He pauses when he notices the contents in your pockets. “Oh?” A hand is shoved inside and pulls out a handful of herbs.

“Aww gross! Sneakin’ herbs into the joint?” He winces from the smell before tossing them aside, leaving them to scatter into the unmoving group below.

How? His reaction should have been much stronger…

“Not that this stuff really works when I’m vibin’ in my element, but I’m hurt! I thought we had some trust!” He pinches your cheek, knowing that you’re unable to pull away. “And I thought you knew that I was way out of your league. You’re gonna need the big guns if you plan on keeping me away from my food.” The breath blowing into your face is abnormally hot.

There’s a layer of something otherworldly hidden in his tone whenever he emphasizes his words, like a filter poorly attempting to cover up a monster’s true guttural voice. 

But once again, he switches back to normal, which does nothing to calm you. “But I’m not gonna get mad at some rookie that doesn’t know better, especially one as tasty as you!” Twirling around, he pushes a few buttons on the table that you didn’t even know where to begin to figure out. 

“Sorry about the interruption, listeners!” He says to the crowd, cruelly acting like they have any ability to respond. They continue to stare blankly. “I hope you don’t mind if I switch things up a bit. Your boy is gonna be a little preoccupied during the next few tracks.”

The deafening silence is lifted with the start of a new song, and the people suddenly spring back to life, completely unaware of the mindless state they were in. Their only goal was to keep partying.

Your body was moving again as well, this time bobbing gently to the double and triple beats and low frequencies that vibrate through the floor and up your spine.

This...this was the type of melody you feared, and yet it didn’t affect you any more than the other songs. All of them were traps.

The only way you can think of fighting back is by filling your head with songs of praise. Keep your Lord in your thoughts. He will protect you.

“Tsk...angel, that stuff doesn’t work when I, ya know, already ate a piece of you.” His face tightened from hearing just a few seconds of the holy song in your head. “I told you, ya gotta loosen up a bit. You’re already dancing better than I thought you would!”

He paid no attention to his other prey, instead admiring your simple but energetic movements.

Then he began to move as well, shoulders doing a slow shimmy and following each of your steps with his own, moving closer and closer until he was able to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you in.

He’s warm. Not burning or emitting an aura of terrifying darkness. The music suddenly feels softer, easing your fears. Like an intimate embrace. 

“There, it’s not so bad, is it?” He says lowly, lips almost touching your face. “Quit thinking about your big daddy for once.”

You want to protest against the disrespectful nickname for your God, but he predicts your reaction and tightens his hold on your spirit.

“You taste so damn incredible right now, don’t mess it up,” he groans and savors you. With every part of you that is consumed, it becomes harder to resist. It would be so easy to just hold onto him and keep swaying like this, rocking back and forth as his hips press against yours, grinding into you.

The unfamiliar sensation startles you, but Hizashi shuts down your panic with a growl. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve forgotten.” he murmurs into your shoulder, breathing deeply to take in your scent. “I’ve been so hooked on the party life that I forgot just how heavenly innocents like you taste. To think that I’d have an actual priest dancing with me, tasting that revelry from such a pure source...pardon my blasphemy, but goddamn.”

You’re swimming through the fiery haze clouding your mind, clawing against it in a desperate search for an opening. But with every beat, the haze thickens and you sink further in.

You couldn’t find the light. No salvation.

More sinful feelings assault you from the friction of his groin against yours, a growing bulge rubbing on your most sacred area. It sends a foreign tingle down there.

“Ooooh, don’t think I can’t feel that, baby” he rasps, holding you so closely in a dance fitting for two lovers. “I can sense everything now that you’ve let me in.”

That angers you enough to find your voice again, just barely. “I didn’t let you in...” You tense from another hard grind. “Foul...beast.”

“Are you sure? You’re giving in pretty easily. It’s nothin’ to feel bad about, I promise. Humans aren’t built to resist life’s basic needs, so I don’t know why the big man in the clouds gets so wound up about it all the time.” 

How dare he.

“Damned snake!” You force your hands to beat against him and push him off. “You will not corrupt me with the Devil’s words!”

He’s actually shocked for a moment, even to your own surprise, but he laughs it off. “Geez, my bad! I guess you are pretty persistent. Must be…” He grabs the cross around your neck, ignoring your horrified gasp. “...this.”

With a sharp yank and a pinch at the back of your neck, your one remaining object of holy protection is removed.

And with its loss, his influence completely overpowers you. The clearness of your senses switches on and off.

The music is muffled. It’s too loud.

The roaming lights are blurry. Too bright.

Are you still moving? Or is your body too heavy?

“It stings a bit, but that little thing can’t do much when the wearer’s already under my control.” An unfocused image of the demon tossing your precious necklace over his shoulder, the necklace you’ve held close to you since the day you first stepped into the cathedral and accepted your role as a righteous defender of man.

Your essence is now being stolen so quickly that it makes you shiver. He shouldn’t be taking this much.

“Mmm, I can’t get enough of this,” Teeth that are too sharp brush against your neck, threatening to pierce your skin. “I’m an old guy, ya know. I’ve done a lot of experimenting over the centuries, to see what I’m into.”

There’s a rip, and your gown is being pulled down along with your wings. It only relieves you from the growing heat of your surroundings.

“Y’see, our daddy isn’t a helicopter parent. He brings us into the world and just...lets us decide what to do. So no, my words ain’t the Devil’s words. They’re just mine, honey. I live for myself.”

Tilting your head, he presses his lips against your throat, making your breath hitch. No, your body is sacred. Don’t let him do this to you.

You don’t even know when the music had changed, but you’ve noticed the club was filled with a synthetic ambiance, the colors switching to magenta and cyan. 

The party demon is so captivated by you that he doesn’t even acknowledge the change in tune. “I used to stalk the depressed. Wasn’t worth it, they were too bland.” He peppers kisses down to your collarbone. “I tormented scared paranoid folk. Fun, but it loses its flavor fast.”

Your bra is removed to expose your breasts to him and the entire populace within the building. Your heart races, but the synths don’t stop seeping into your ears, the bliss wrestling with your fear. 

“Shh, don’t freak out. I’ll make sure everyone forgets everything that happened tonight.” He attempts to reassure you while massaging your newly revealed mounds. “So time went on as I treated my palate to different tastes. Wasn’t long before I realized my favorite vibes were the good ones. Festivals, games, a few buddies hangin’ out,” he lowered himself and flicked your nipple with his tongue. “Or a couple fucking, I ate all of it up. And after a while I decided that I just liked people in general.”

The pleasure felt when your breast is engulfed by the heat of his mouth is shameful. Hizashi moaned at your taste, though you weren’t sure if it was the taste of your flesh or your lust that was exciting him.

“I liked it when humans were having good times, so I figured out how to join in on the fun and damn, how do you guys keep finding new ways to rock out? The prudes keep droning on about how my favorite type of people have lost their way, but I think they’re the ones who found paradise, and they’re not even dead yet!” After nursing on both of your breasts, he rises and grabs your face to turn it toward the crowd. “I mean, just look at how these guys – oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed.

The people were no longer dancing. They were grabbing at each other, at men and women they probably didn’t even know, tearing apart clothes in a vicious urge to fornicate right there on the dancefloor. Some of them were already completely nude. You avert your eyes to stare at your feet instead.

Hizashi cleared his throat. “Whoops. Look what ya made me do, angel. My lust got the best of me!” He held you close while watching the horrid act before him. You’re trying to move your heavy arms to cover your bare body. “No wonder I’m feeling so horny. Think I should make them stop?”

It takes effort to nod your head.

His lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout before going, “Nah. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an orgy. I bet this is a first for you.”

Something tickles your hips, your eyes wandering over to see the arrow-like point of his tail curling around your white panties, tugging them down.

Part of you already knows that Hizashi is allowing you to struggle for his own amusement. With all of your protection gone, he can easily stop you from swatting at the flexible limb as it brings your final article of clothing down to your ankles.

Wearing nothing but the small strap around your wrist, you want so badly to curl up and hide yourself. You were completely bare on a stage with a demon quietly taking in your form. The contrasting feelings of anxiety and calm threaten to tear your psyche in half.

“Given how anal you guys are about chastity, I think it’s safe to say no one’s ever touched you before?” The way you tense tells him enough. “Alright alright, relax. I’m gonna make this easy for you.”

‘How? By letting me leave?’ You want to say, but your vocal chords aren’t cooperating.

He grinned from ear to ear. “Well, no. I told ya I know everything goin’ on in that head.” He grabs you by the shoulders and places you right in front of his mixer.

There were many suggestive sounds amongst the pile of writhing bodies before you. It was the most depraved sight that you’ve ever witnessed. These people may have been sinners for their immoral pursuits, but they were still victims of a wicked creature’s influence. You wish you could apologize to all of them for failing to protect them.

Slender fingers massaged your shoulders. “Ain’t it beautiful?” He whispers hotly into your ear. “I’m not that crazy about lust, but I can’t resist when it’s coming from someone like you.”

His aura has you shackled on the spot, unable to move or even tear your eyes away from all of the sex. His voice meshes with the increasingly sensual tunes, both him and the music putting you in a deep trance that leaves every nerve in your body extra sensitive.

You’re gently pushed to lean forward until your hands are supporting yourself on the table. The leather of his clothes pressed against your back is irritating, but easily overshadowed by the hands trailing down your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“One of my favorite hobbies was hunting down faithful maidens like you. All demons love doing it, really. You can’t top raw innocence, it’s always a delicacy. It’s the closest most of us will ever get to fucking an actual angel. I managed to fuck an angel, and lemme tell ya, it’s a once in an eternity experience.”

He reaches your mound. There is still fear and an urge to pray, though it’s drowned out by the electronic harmony and all of the hot sex.

“Now she’s a fallen one that hangs out with me. Pretty little devil’s obsessed with sex now. If you’re lucky, maybe she’ll give you a visit in your sleep at midnight.”

His fingers reach your untouched folds, making you gasp. You’ve never felt so much lubrication down there before. Was that normal?

“I was really good at the whole corruption thing, so good that I caught the attention of the big holy boys. They were toughies, gotta hand it to 'em. I decided to lay low after that little showdown. That was all a preeetty long time ago.”

The demon’s voice is background noise as you watch deplorable acts that you didn’t even know existed. One woman was taking a cock into her mouth while another man pounded into her from behind. A new male approached and grabbed her free hand, wrapping her fingers around him and encouraging her to stroke him.

Three men pleasuring themselves with the same woman. They were probably complete strangers.

The repulsive sight makes you wetter.

They sure were having fun.

Hizashi hums at your arousal, sinking a digit into your folds. 

“Ah,” you choke on your own voice. His other hand plays with your breast again while you’re being penetrated for the first time. Some sort of flame was growing within you, burning and pleasing at the same time.

“I thought I’ve found my place. Going place to place and bringing in crowds who just want to forget their troubles for a day and groove.”

The finger pushes through your tightly clenched walls, or at least they try to.

“Fuck, relax a bit, babe,” he groans.

You do exactly that, giving him enough leeway to push in and out at a steady pace. You don’t think about the violation, only the strange friction that has no right to feel as good as it does. 

“And then you come along,” An unexpected sharp thrust causes his finger to brush against a spot that fills your vision with even more blinding lights. “It’s not like I was after you or anything. You’re a solid negative ten on the threat scale, but ya just wouldn’t leave me alone!” He relentlessly hits the spot again, and again, until you’re crying out and your legs are shaking. “Then you waltz in here and try to ruin my favorite night of the year?

He’s able to hide his anger as he speaks, but fails to keep it from entering his possessed victims. The orgy becomes more violent, all of the people looking no more civil than savages in torn rags as they try to dominate and fuck each other senseless.

It affects you as well, going by how annoyed you’re getting by his rambling. Can’t he just focus on pleasing you?

His finger leaves you too soon, your cunt already missing the brand new sensations. “Sorry, babe,” he says when he releases you and begins to undo his pants. “Normally I’d spend more time warming up, but I gotta join in on the raunchiness now before I go nuts. Just...do me a favor.”

You whined, wiggling your hips and rubbing your ass against his freed cock. He only chuckles at your impatience.

“Slow your roll, I’ll get started as soon as you push that button riiiight there.”

You push one of the many glowing buttons, and stock phrases are shouted out of the speakers.

“No, the one next to it.”

You press it, and another song begins.

Hizashi hums in approval. “I usually do a smooth transition between songs, but…”

A hard impact knocks you forward with the overwhelming feeling of being completely filled all at once. The stretch and pressure has your mouth hanging open in a silent scream.

“....Yeah, I just wanted to do that. And-” He yanks the halo off your head and drops it at your feet. “-I always loved the symbolism in that.”

He wastes no time building up. You’re being pounded as hard and consistently as the energetic beat. It should hurt, but the euphoric state of your mind dulls any pain and discomfort. 

With the demon inside both your head and your womanhood, there was no saving yourself. Your prayers wouldn’t even be heard through this thick depraved fog.

“Oh fuck yeah,” He growls loudly with his wild thrusts, hands gripping your hips tightly enough to bruise. “I’ve been missing out. So hooked on the party life that I don’t even remember how it feels to eat up a modest little soul like this.”

Was he still devouring you? You can’t even tell, not while you’re trapped in this melodic dreamworld as his cock rams you.

“Ya mind if we do this again sometime?” He angled himself to ensure he was hitting that sweet spot with each rhythmic pump. Despite his aggression, his hips moved with musical purpose. “Not like you’re much of a priest anymore. You’re fuckin’ a demon, sweetheart. I think the pearly gates have closed for you.”

That sounds sad and all, but God does he feel good. The entire moment was feeling like a hallucination. Your world was saturated with fuzzy images and muffled bass as your virgin pussy was ravaged. The tightened heat in your core was growing hotter by the second.

Hizashi just wouldn’t stop talking even as he became short of breath. “Ah, don’t worry, my doors are always open to misfits!” His rhythm falters a bit when you give him an especially tight squeeze. “Ya like that? I can always wipe your memory of tonight along with everyone else’s, and you can head back home. I just don’t think your next visit to the house of God is gonna end well.”

How does he expect you to care with the way he’s plowing into you?

His arms wrap around you in an embrace. “No pressure, angel. You can decide later. For now, just enjoy the show.”

And finally, he shut up and focused on fucking your divine lights out.

With his pelvis flush against your ass, Hizashi humps with newfound vigor, his thrusts rapid yet precise enough to keep stimulating your most sensitive areas.

The blinding stars in your eyes make it impossible to even make out what’s happening in front of you. A shame, because you want to know if you’re being dicked down as good and hard as the whores on the dancefloor.

The demon may not be talking anymore, but he was still being very vocal about his pleasure with feral moans and growls right into your ear. 

An extra hard slam forces you to nearly topple onto the controls, hands scrambling to keep you upright and hitting several buttons in the process. 

A series of sounds and distortion effects are added to the song.

It unexpectedly riles him up. “Shit, that wasn’t a bad mix, angel. I might have a junior DJ in the making,” he praises.

The tempo changes - different speed and new layers - and Hizashi follows suit by switching his quick bucks into deep thrusts.

The fire inside was close to doing...something. You weren’t sure what it was or what exactly will happen if this lasts any longer, but part of you knows that it’s about to feel very good.

With the head of his dick striking you nice and deep, you quickly learn that you were right.

The explosion of spasms was too pleasurable to even comprehend, each contraction tearing filthy screams from your throat. Hizashi bursts soon afterwards and fills you up with a cry even more lewd than yours.

Just like that, your mind is freed and the weight of his aura is lifted...and you feel gravely tired.

A coldness sweeps over you and saps every ounce of your strength. You find yourself dropping to your knees and falling over as a distant voice expresses genuine worry.

“Oh.......I overfed.” Though it doesn’t sound as panicked as it should.

You don’t want to close your eyes. You fear that something terrible might happen if you do, but your eyelids are quickly becoming too heavy to fight.

“Really sorry, little priest! I didn’t mean to! Look at the bright side - my friends are gonna love ya down there! Home isn’t half as bad as those books make it out to be!”

Each word sounds fainter than the last, but you still catch each one.

Home?

Your eyes shut. 

And the remains of your soul become stained with ash and black before heading downwards into the demonic realm.

Welcome home.

[i-did]

hi mlm here. so i want to write andreil smut but im a virgin so i have no idea what exactly sex is like. but i do not want to write it for the.... straight women gaze. what are some things that are accurate to write about. this is prolly super nsfw but i dont know who to ask.

Okay so this response took me literally months, and I'm sorry about that. I honestly was so excited when I got this question. I don't know why I put off responding?? But here I go: 

CW for discussion of NSFW, STD’s, and a lil homophobia

I bet a lot of people who write smut are virgins tbh, that's not to insult anyone or anything, but like writing is a non physical way to explore sex and fantasies by yourself, so you’re definitely not alone lol.

So you're MLM and want to write smut, (and others who want to get my opinions on writing non-fetishistic smut).

Porn is porn and can have unrealistic circumstances to fulfill said fantasy, such as anything from people messing around in locker rooms to tentacles.

To get a general sense of what is common in MLM sexuality, (rather than the typical feminine gaze that is seen in smut) looking at gay porn and gay porn categories is good insight. 

Bear culture, muscle culture, leather culture, etc. 

These are obviously still porn and unrealistic, however being attracted to sweat, jockstraps, and muscles is very common outside of porn. 

Bear culture is a body-positive movement that started because of the gay community's fat-phobia, age-phobia, and overall shittyness about body hair. 

Leather culture is also really big, it started because of the belief that gay men couldn’t be dominant or “masculine”, even in bed. So in America, leather culture was a way a lot of MLM embraced themselves. 

Going to pride, you will see many men wearing those leather harnesses, it doesn't indicate a preference of topping or bottoming necessarily, they're just something mlm wear and has grown quite popular in the culture, I've known some men to say it feels like a security blanket for them. 

And I think it’s very important to understand these cultures or at least be aware of them on a base level if you’re going to write gay porn. 

Also looking at erotic MLM art made by men, there is Tom of Finland, who was very historically significant, and is the most famous erotic gay artist. There is gay literature, one that openly talks about sex quite frankly is the book “We Both Laughed In Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan” which is a series of diary excerpts from a real gay trans man where you follow his life up until he died during the aids epidemic. He talks about sex with partners and discovering himself as well as what being a gay man means to him. He has a real love for sex in a way that is very unashamed and interesting to read about. We know that he wrote the latter half of his diaries with the plan of compiling them and publishing them but he passed away and people in his life carried out this wish for him. He is considered a significant part of gay and transgender history because of this, and his diaries are in LGBT museums. 

Reading gay poetry, looking at gay art, erotic, romantic, grungy, whatever, and you will find and see how they portray things differently than when it’s not portrayed by gay men usually. I mean there is a clear difference between yaoi and bara and that's the audience and authors. Some yaoi are made by MLM, (well technically their called gei comi, or gay comics in Japanese)

“Also known as ‘gei comi’ or ‘men's love,’ bara comics are by men, for men. There is a yaoi equivalent to this, and it is called ‘gachi muchi’-- it is written by women, for women.” – myanimelist.net (lol)

 but more than 90% aren't. I haven't ever heard of a non-MLM bara artist, but I'm sure there's at least one. 

Of course, I've seen things depicting MLM just together pretty realistically that didn't feel like it was written by someone who definitely wasn't MLM, but these scenes tend to be more writing in the general sense of art in the general sense rather than porn, which has a huge gap in characteristics between stuff usually written by MLM vs when it's written by women. (sorry about the binary language here)

I know some people don't like any realism in their porn, but I personally really like small details such as prep being mentioned, foreplay, even acknowledgment of the existence of condoms even if they choose to go without.

Especially as an MLM who lives in America currently, the ever-present acknowledgment and stigmatism of AIDS is around us. We think about it, even when we don't want to. An entire generation of MLM, trans people, and a lot of POC were wiped out. Not necessarily a PWP detail, but including discussion of prep, PrEP (the anti HIV medication) and/or getting tested, even for diseases besides HIV, is a small detail that I think is nice. MLM often have to have a moment when opening up a conversation about sex where HIV is mentioned, our dating apps and hook up apps have sections where you put positive, negative, non-transmissible/undetectable, or prefer not to say. The books take place in 2006 so PrEP didn't exist yet, but also the aids pandemic was happening when they were being born and as young kids, so it wasn't that long ago in society's mind. It's still illegal for many trans people and MLM to donate blood despite that the blood is screened for diseases after donation. 

Also, some realism I like is when a character isn't getting their ass ate first in the morning. Like, for me that's a huge turn-off because I think “holy fuck hygiene.” specifically with anal play I just really think even casually mentioning “washing up” or basic prep, or if you want more accuracy/details mention time between last meals or “x only ate a salad, so he would be fine”. It's like a joke in the gay community to eat chili fries or some shit on a date to indicate that either there will be no anal, or if there is you’re not going to be the one to do it, because you just fuckin ate those fries to say so. 

A cock just going in without prep and no condom is going to A) hurt very bad the body does not do that naturally and can cause injury B) get shit dick.

An also not sexy detail that is common for sex is just laying down a towel so you don’t have to wash sheets. Lube on hands? Wipe off on the towel that you’re on rn. Laying down a towel is pretty normal especially for anal. But this is if you’re going for a much more playing for accuracy sex scene. 

Honestly just writing fingering and prep and stuff like that in my opinion goes a long way and also gives the audience more to read. 

Also, sex is way more than peen in hole. Get creative, frottage, mutual masturbation, docking? Idk like thigh fucking, fucking buttcheeks but not hole, handies, blowies, anal oral, Neil doesn’t have to be the only one who gets his ass ate and things don’t have to follow formulas, in fact, they’re better when they don’t. 

Sex comes in many forms, and like I’ve definitely been with someone and he took off his shirt and I was like what, because he was skinny and clean-shaven and I didn’t expect him to have nearly as much chest hair as he did. I bet honestly Neil has a massive bush, like fuckin, massive. 

Andrew and Neil don’t have to like everything the same amount, Neil could be like “I wanna lick your armpit” and gets really off on it, Andrew is neutral but likes that Neil likes it and agrees even if it does nothing for him physically. Honestly, Neil having a sweat kink imo is pretty fitting lol. 

Try not to categorize the characters into “the bottom” and “the top”, or “the man” and “the woman”

This is something I see a lot and pay attention to how “the bottom” tends to adopt traits that are seen in straight porn that are over-exaggerated. I’m not saying it's inherently wrong to write someone as slim, but we know Neil isn't delicate, but I personally wouldn't categorize him as slim. He's a college-level athlete and is definitely muscular and defined, he has some bulk at least, he isn’t model lean for sure imo. You also often see PWP where the bottom makes a bunch of noise and the top makes none, or the top grunts and the bottom mewls, these are things I personally feel gives the bottom the role of a woman in porn. I don’t think Andreil have rough sex necessarily, but I do think when Neil does make noise, it would be because it was practically punched out of him by the feeling, and would sound more like a gasp than a kitten or whatever. There's nothing wrong with writing them both grunting, both of their voices being lower. Someone bottoming doesn’t suddenly magically not have secondary sex characteristics and stubble and body hair or a deep voice or however, they’re like everywhere else. 

When I read an over-emphasis on Neil’s slim waist and swaying hips and ass I’m like,,, okay someone please mention Andrew looking at Neil’s dick or bulge or shoulders. As an MLM, what do you find hot about men? I like stomachs and arms and shoulders, jawlines, collarbones, asses yes but like in a different way than how I like women’s asses (I’m bi lol) they are smaller and I like them muscled and squared almost. I look at veins on hands and noses and shoulders and backs, I look at a lot and I honestly don't have a type. But yeah so think about what you like, why you like it, what you might want. Or look at what others like, and why and how they want and like it.

what would Neil like, how would he feel about it? And Andrew. I kinda feel like Andrew is low-key masc 4 masc but that's just me lmaoo. Anyways, good luck writing. 

[whatgaviiformes]

From the whumpy prompts list:

🔫

With Alan :)

🔫 shot With Alan :) – @rachfielden-xo

Thank you! I’ve been needing something to get in Alan’s headspace; he’s always been the hardest for me. I hope you enjoy my attempt at Allie, and that he's not too off the mark.

*cracks knuckles, channels Destiny 2*

**

In Providence, the trick was to give your character a good build and add the right mods to the armor and weapons to complement their abilities. The game worked for many different play styles, and it was still a first person shooter, but skill was not based on aim alone. He, Gordon, and John actually were all part of a clan, a combination of people around the world who they’d never met beyond their screen names, and luckily the clan leaders were all understanding of sporadic play. Not all clans were.

Their mission – shoot aliens in the face and maybe sometimes the ass. And occasionally try to aim for their critical hit spots if you’re in the mood to actually try.

“I’ve been shot, G.”

“I’m aware of that, Alan,” Gordon says, pressing down on the wound bleeding profusely from Alan’s shoulder. “Where the hell is Virgil with that medical kit?”

John liked to play Providence as if he had launched instead a game of medieval combat, preferring bows and swords to the gun designs the game had to offer. It was frustrating that he was still so goddamn good at the game. Gordon main-ed a sharpshooter with scout and sniper rifles as his primary weapons, but honestly, as long as he had two minutes to get used to any load out, he’d still be in ace shape. Alan played up close and personal, shotguns and machine guns all the way; there was nothing quite like barreling down on a hex patrol with a round of submachine gun ammo and that satisfying burst of electric as the AI aliens exploded.

His precision accuracy was shit, but that was what Gordon and John played for, not Alan.

“Do you think I will have a scar? A scar would be so freaking cool. How’s it look? Was it a clean exit?”

“It looks like a gunshot wound, Alan, and yes, I think it at least went all the way through.”

“Ahh, good. So what kind of gun was it? Was it at least something cool?” Alan strains to look past Gordon where he knows he dropped the gun.

“Seriously, kid? That’s what you care about while you’re bleeding out on me?” The look Alan gives Gordon at the question is almost comical. Gordon sighs at Alan’s earnest baby blues, sparing a glance over his right shoulder. He knows already from the weight, the trigger, the barrel; he just needs the last visual validation. “It’s a hand cannon.”

“Fuck those. Those suck,” Alan grumbles. They’d actually had this discussion before, though the circumstances were much different in that Gordon was not trying to will his brother’s blood back into his body at the time. In case you were wondering, the blood seeps through his fingers, so he knows he’s doing a piss poor job of it.

“They don’t actually. You just shoot from too far away when you use them and so the kick makes you lose sight of the enemy.”

“Shotguns are better,” Alan argues.

“A shotgun would’ve killed you.”

“As if. The Hood should get some better henchmen; their aim was shit.” Last Alan checked shoulders were not critical hit spots.

“For our sakes, I surely hope that he doesn’t.”

“ – or at least give you an actual challenge. Man, G, Sometimes I wish you could see how awesome you are. The way you took them down –“

He lets Alan babble. Gordon, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t actually enjoy shooting people. He’s been trained to shoot people, he has shot people – killed even – add two more to the tally, but he’d had no choice with two henchman pointing their guns at his youngest brother. There was no thinking involved, no planning, just gut instinct.

Not just disarm. Eliminate the threat. React.

The first guy had had no warning when Gordon came in from his right and twisted his neck. He deftly grabbed the fallen gun and turned on the man’s colleague a few feet away. Unload. He was close enough that the blood splattered on his face as the bullet collided with flesh with an ugly squelch.

Gordon didn’t feel very cool; he felt grotesque. Everything had happened at lightning speed, and yet, he still hadn’t been fast enough.

“Please, Alan. I know you think this is all swell at the minute, but I really need you to stay still while we wait for Virgil.” There really isn’t time left to wait any longer; Virgil needs to get here now. He needs to know where he is. The risk is that Gordon has to remove the pressure temporarily to connect with his brothers on comms. Grimly, he tells Alan to take over with his good arm and it will have to do. Just for a moment. “Gordon to Virgil. Where are you?” When there’s no response, he tries again. “Gordon to Thunderbird 5. John, where is Virgil?”

“Sorry, Gordon. He ran into some problems. He’s on his way.”

“He ok?”

“Yes. Scott took care of it.” Gordon can extrapolate what that means.

“How’s Alan?”

“Oh, you know, planning out raid day,” Gordon says with a grimace. He knows John and EOS are monitoring his brother’s vitals and have the read outs, Virgil is their medic and so he has a good idea, but Gordon and Scott are the ones who know what a gunshot will do to a human body. “John, it’s not good.”

John pales suddenly. “Gord – get back to him.”

He’s barely turned his back. “Hey, Alan, pressure. Don’t forget.” But he knows that’s no good, Alan’s good arm hangs weakly to his side, the ground stained around a bloodied hand. Gordon drops to his knees once more and presses into the wound instead.

Alan eyes glaze as he looks up at him. “Gordon, it really hurts now.”

“Yeah, an adrenaline crash will do that to ya, bud.”

“I think–uh.” Alan groans through the words and can’t finish his thought. Where did those words go?

“So, you were telling me what you wanted to bring for raid day,” Gordon prods.

Alan coughs. “…want somethin’ with better DPS in powerful weapons spot…”

Gordon nods in understanding even through the lethargic words, knowing they are not going to make it to raid day.

**

DPS - Damage Per Second.

Providence - basically Destiny 2

hex - Vex, also from D2.

[centrally-unplanned]

(Spoilers ahead) Partner and I finished Season 2 of the Fruits Basket modern remake this weekend. I had only seen the, uh, 2001 original anime (2001? It was 20 years ago? Fuck), with no exposure to the manga, so a lot of the plot elements were new to me. I liked a lot of the show, but I have some big complaints about it handles its villain, Akito:

1: Akito occupies a very awkward place in this story. He (don’t worry, ill get to that) is the head of the main crew’s family and constantly inflicts abuse on all of its members, and is therefore the source of conflict for the plot, both in past trauma and present attempts as control and gaslighting.

Okay, so stories often have to walk a tightrope with abusive characters like this. Stories are normally pushed along and resolved internally - the main cast is going to experience the pain and drama, and fix it themselves, because that is the arc. For many plots that is easy, but if the story revolves around an abusive sibling/parent figure like Fruits Basket does, you will always be asking yourself the question “uh, why doesn’t anyone call the cops? or why don’t they just leave?” There is a tension between realism in the setting and the needs of the plot.

You can in fact resolve this tension in a lot of ways. If the abuse is primarily mental, slowly building, inflicted out of sight of responsible parties, etc, you can make this work. Lots of people don’t report abuse to authorities, or just move out of their house, but instead deal with it due to it being normalized. Other ways include making the characters teenagers - they don’t think of the world as having authorities outside of family (or school) and its much harder for them to reach outside of that bubble - the classic highschool bully problem. So Akito can work if he is subtle, slowly ramps, and controls his surroundings to hide his abuse from relevant authorities.

Anyway here is Akito pushing a 17 year old girl out of a two story window shattering her back and hospitalizing her for months:

And here he is threatening a 17 year old boy with life confinement in a literal cage unless he, uh, wins a duel with his cousin?

These are the worst moments but they are far from alone. This person is a raving lunatic, which fair enough that the 17 year olds don’t know how to handle that, but Akito himself is no older than 20. And the cast of characters who know everything that is going on includes:

-27 year old *published author* Shigure, who directly cares for both Akito and two of his abuse victims

-27 year old completely-independent business owner, Ayame, who is the *brother* of one of the abuse victims

-27 year old licensed medical doctor Hatori, who lives with and is the physician of Akito.

Hatori is violating every ethical obligation of his profession on the daily, dude is stone cold! This again could work if these characters were bad guys, but they aren’t - they are sympathetic protagonists or in Aya’s case even comic relief! The show wants you to think they are doing their best, Shigure even has a secret “plan” to deal with Akito that he has been planning for *years* and they all have "reasons” why they feel stuck due to the Zodiac curse yadda yadda. But you have to memory hole the fact that they are functioning adults in 21st century Japan, because otherwise Shigure and Hatori in particular reach levels of negligence to the children they care for that it tips right on over into being evil itself. 

These kids go to public school, guys!

Now I know what any defender would say - “its the curse!” The whole cast carries the curse of the Zodiac where God invited them in long-ago times to a dinner, Akito is the current manifestation of that God in some form, and so they are bound to him to enact that “dinner” metaphorically in some way by staying by his side (also they transform into their respective Zodiac animals when chest-on-chest contact occur from the opposite sex, because Anime). Again, you can make this work! Show Akito exerting a magical force on characters who stray too far from him, or a compulsion locking them to being forever near the Sohma estate where he lives. Something showing that yeah, the relevant authorities could not handle this and dragging Akito away in chains won’t work. But sadly the show just...doesn’t bother. There is a “curse” but we are two seasons in and any negative consequences of the curse beyond Akito Being An Asshole are Footage Not Found (Kyo is an exception, but not a relevant one), despite everyone pretending like there is. Everyone wants to break the curse? Fine, kill Akito. Then you all get to live in peace and transform into adorable animals when you’d like, curse broken. Just throw “doesn’t cuddle or do missionary position” on your OkCupid profile to make your love life work, no one is gonna bat an eye, and some people will be, lets say, readily down with your particular transformation fetish.

None of this is fatal to the show per se, you can suspend disbelief. But the show takes itself so seriously that you can’t help but think these thoughts, and it colors in particular how the older characters act. And it would be so easy to fix! They just didn’t bother.

2: Can someone explain to me, in the year of our Zodiac Lord 2021, how a character secretly being a girl is a “surprise reveal” worth ending a season on? The final shot of Season 2 is that our resident asshole Akito has some female-presenting nipples, which is apparently a Big Deal? (maybe the show takes place on Tumblr, *zing*) Its the villain, they are an abusive maniac and also metaphorically/actually a divine being. Why does doubling their X chromosome count affect or change anything? I can envision plots where that is relevant, but this was not one! Maybe the next season will build that into the arc, but they haven’t done that yet, so the moment itself falls incredibly flat.

Yet people obviously feel differently from me - as is my habit I checked the reddit threads for the final episode and they are replete with people commenting on how shocking a twist it was, how they looked forward to it as manga readers, etc. Its a classic suspense trick I think, of how you can just have an event be surprising without it being thematically relevant, and it will work as long as you add the right drama bells around it. This was just a pretty egregious example of it. 

-----

Between these problems, Fruits Basket has this aura of laziness around its none-core characters that does drag it down. Which is sad since I do actually like how it treats its core cast, even if it is stretched out over twice as many episodes as it needs. I am just guessing here, but beyond just “not caring” and doing it for the drama, I think it stems out of adapting the manga “faithfully”.

So Fruits Basket got an anime adaption in 2001, and the author (Natsuki Tayaka) haaaaated it. It was only twenty six episodes, a ~third of which got consumed just introducing the zodiac cast, so its plot had to be mixed around and truncated, and it was much more comedic and zany in tone. It was still very popular, so demand for a “better” adaptation of the full manga was high, which eventually happened in 2019. This time around Tayaka insisted on a high degree of control and faithfulness - I would bet it was essentially a “shot for shot” adaptation, and I have seen manga/anime comparison compilations to that effect.

The problem lies in how manga are made - they are almost never planned out start to finish. You pitch like a chapter, it gets picked up, and then its being published in tandem to its own production. That means that its pretty rare for the ending to be thought out, and the story figures itself out as it goes. Early manga Fruits Basket is pretty zany! Which means it plays fast and loose with its worldbuilding and its adult characters act silly most of the time. Once the high drama kicks in you realize that doesn’t work anymore, but you have already published it all months ago, no way to revise it now, so you just have to bite the bullet.

An anime adaptation would be a good time to clean that up! Its what Kare Kano did - a manga that starts as a cute highschool romcom and ends in sexual assault, for the anime they tried to create tonal consistency right from the start and change plot details around accordingly. But when the author, burned by a past studio, insists on Complete Accuracy...well then the anime has to bite the same bullets the manga did. And so you get Fruits Basket (2019), a show destined to never rise above its source material.

But hey, if Season 3 ends with Tohru just whipping out a gun, shooting Akito right between the eyes, and walking off into the sunset with a harem of zodiac hotties, then all will be forgiven.

[thatwritergirlsblog]

Testing out popular (FREE) writing hacks

There are a lot of writing hacks floating around, tips that are supposed to increase your writing productivity. Well, I tested them, and here are my thoughts:

1. Use Comic Sans

Let’s be honest. When we were in primary school, we typed EVERYTHING in Comic Sans. However, as we got older and more professional, Comic Sans appeared childish and we stopped using it.

Ask anyone what the most unprofessional font is and they’ll probably answer: Comic Sans MS

However, earlier this year the idea of using Comic Sans when writing your first draft started popping up and now, a lot of writers are swearing by it.

So, did it increase my productivity?

YES

I started writing a scene in Comic Sans and I wrote about five pages in like 30 minutes. The words just flowed. I don’t know why this font increases writing productivity, but if it works, I don’t really care why.

So, I would 100% recommend trying Comic Sans for your first draft. Remember, no one’s going to see it. And it’s pretty easy to change back to something like Times New Roman once you’ve finished a scene.

2. Dictation

I’ve heard a lot of professional authors rave about how much time they save by dictating their first drafts. However, a lot of dictation software and microphones are quite expensive. So, I tried the free alternatives at my disposal.

The latest version of OneNote, which comes included in a lot of Microsoft Office packages, now has a dictation feature. I know this isn’t technically free, but it was for me, since I already have Office installed. The OneNote mobile app is free, but I don’t know it is has this feature. And I just used the built-in microphone on my laptop. Google Docs also has a dictation feature, I think, but I haven’t tried it yet.

So, does it work?

The accuracy is surprisingly good. I dictated about three paragraphs this morning and only one or two words were incorrect. Also, OneNote’s dictation doesn’t allow for speaking punctuation, which means you’ll have to add these after the fact. Additionally, few people actually write in OneNote, so you’ll have to paste the text into your document.

Overall, this could be great for someone whose hands are tired of typing or who cannot sit at a desk any longer than their job already requires. However, it doesn’t really increase productivity. This may just be me, but I take longer to think up good sentences when I have to speak them. Then, I have to go back and add punctuation marks and correct some words. And then paste it into my draft document. It’s easier to just write it from the get-go.

However, some authors say that it just takes getting used to. So, maybe if you’re more of a verbal/audio thinker and don’t have your hands available at all times, this is a good hack for you. I just don’t think I’ll be using it much. 

3. Writing sprints

This has been around for quite some time, but I only really started using it when I attempted Camp Nanowrimo during my test month. Essentially, writing sprints entail setting a timer for somewhere under an hour and then just focusing on getting as many words written as possible before the timer goes off. There are many published authors who swear by this.

So, does it increase productivity?

Yes. Firstly, it pushes you to write when you wouldn’t have in other circumstances, since it allows you to utilise even the smallest free periods. Have an hour between classes? Find a flat surface and do a writing sprint. Have to study all evening? Do a 25-minute sprint before you start. Secondly, it also helps you get more words down in that time, because you don’t have to worry about what you have to do next or whether your writing is any good. All you focus on is producing as many words as possible before that timer goes off.

So, if you’re a busy person, try using writing sprints here and there to increase your productivity.

4. Writing groups

Many authors enjoy the camaraderie and accountability that comes with writing with a lot of other people, whether it be in a physical space or an online group. There’s a set time everyone in the group will be writing and you keep one another company, checking up on one another’s progress and sharing motivation.

Does it increase productivity?

Not for me. This is largely a personal thing, but I actually get less writing done in the presence of other people. I’m more anxious. I get distracted by other people’s comments. And I constantly find myself wondering when the session will end. To me, writing is a solitary thing. I work best holed up in my room with no one around and no one leaving online comments about their own writing. Yes, I love checking in on others’ progress and sharing my own on Instagram, but only after my writing session has finished.

However, you may find that writing groups work for you. Maybe not being alone is just nicer for you, regardless of whether you get more words down or not. So, this one is definitely dependent on the individual.

5. Background noise

Some writers create signature playlists for each of their WIPs. Some write specific scenes to specific songs. Others use white noise or instrumentals. But it’s clear that writing with some form of background sound works for a lot of authors.

Let me start by saying that I cannot get any work done when listening to music with lyrics. So, I didn’t even try this. Instead, I tried fantasy instrumental playlists on YouTube, rainymood.com and ambient-mixer.com 

Does it work?

Sometimes.

If I’m writing a fight scene, listening to epic battle music will help me write it faster. I write at my best during thunderstorms, so rainymood.com definitely increases my productivity. Ambient mixer offers a huge variety of ambient sounds to listen to, ranging from scary woods to driving with the Winchesters. “Quiet library” on ambient mixer helps a lot when I have to study, but not really when I have to write. So, yes, in certain instances, background noise helps me write faster. But, mostly, I enjoy writing in silence or with natural, real-life sounds around me.

Once again, this is purely personal. Regardless, I can definitely recommend the two websites I mentioned above.

So, that’s all I have for you today. I hope that these “reviews” can help you decide which writing hacks will work for you. Remember that my asks are always open for creative writing questions, and that post submissions are always welcome!

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment if there are any writing hacks you’d like me to try out in the future. Follow me for similar content.

[iimanga]

The Whole Marvelous Super Ultra Cosmic Magical Comic Book Universe

The produce of imagination and business that was Marvel Comics was a synchronic harmony sounded by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko and every one of the creators and craftsmen and inkers and colorists who worked there. Everything began during the mid 1960's the point at which the Fantastic Four and Spider-man and the X-men (The Uncanny X-Men) were framed from the creative mind of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

X-men was a film industry crush the previous summer. I'm certain you additionally recall the profoundly effective Hulk TV show.

The most punctual X-men comprised of Jean (Marvel Girl) Gray (who later turned into the amazingly well known Phoenix), Professor X (Xavier), Cyclops (Scott Summers), the insightful Beast (Hank McCoy), and Iceman (Bobbie). Freaks brought into the world with exceptional "super-freak" capacities.

Later came the New Mutants with more youthful characters having freak controls that occasionally appeared to have them (the main sort of comic book story I don't care for).

These characters from X-men including (Nightcrawler, Wolverine, Storm, Banshee, Kitty) advanced with the appearance of the imagination of John Byrne (beginning in issue #108 of X-men) and Chris Claremont (Giant Sized X-men #1 and Uncanny X-men #94 now esteemed at $500. up in "mint" condition. The most famous person was the principle star in the X-men film- - Wolverine. There makes certain to be a continuation for this film industry crush.

X-men Comics instructed kids that bias is shrewd. Individuals who live in dread and in this way eagerness attempt to annihilate what they don't comprehend.

Fascinating that both the latest Star Wars film and X-men film truly investigated lawmakers (Congress). In the event that force undermines totally is it conceivable our framework is totally bad? The Senator in the X-men film took in his example somewhat late.

Insect man- - the new Marvel film in progress - is about a typical young child anxiety (menaces thumping him, not getting any darlings, skin break out, etc is gentle stuff contrasted with the present school encounters -, for example, not having chance and killed while going to or going to the everyday schedule lured by a destructive medication or tainted by a stellar infection) is only nibbled by a radioactive bug (revolutionary stuff for the mid 1960's).

This gives Peter Parker super powers- - creepy crawly controls - whenever intensified a man could lift a truck and convey it 20 miles as insects do. (Try not to get me going discussing Henry Pym the Antman who became Giant Man in the Marvel's Avengers ((Capt. America, Thor the Thunder God etc.))). Add to that Peter Parker was likewise a splendid understudy who had the option to concoct a web shooter and other extraordinary innovations. What's more, Spider-man was brought into the world as a bi-result of the bi-item known as radioactive material (which Science actually doesn't have the foggiest idea how to dispose of). (Take a stab at telling that to the Bush organization). Everything is energy! Recall Tesla curls.

However, Marvel was not by any means the only spot strutting superpowered characters.

D.C. Funnies (Time Warner), as well, used folklore and accounts of Biblical extents to entrain, invigorate and energize ages of youngsters, children and grown-ups from the 1940's to introduce.

A few characters like Superman, Atom, Flash, Batman, Green Lantern, JLA and others and even D.C's. adaptation of Capt. Wonder might have been propelled by profound writing which recounted Hindu Gods and Goddesses and surprisingly Biblical personages who could remain in fire and so forth

Contents and Wit

Superheroes: starting through human creative mind and from writing, folklore, religion.

However most likely comic makers just made up their wondrous stories.

When I talked with Gerry Conway for the Comics Journal he conceded to me that he had investigated a portion of the funnies he composed. Conway's companion accomplice Roy Thomas no question investigated Conan and Thor and other material while author and supervisor at Marvel. They cooperated on the incredible enlivened Fire and Ice film. (Ralph Bakshi/Frank Frazetta).

Also, at first Thomas got the Conan property over to Marvel from Edgar Rice Burroughs in Tarzana, CA. (Tarzana- - Tarzan...get it? That's right, it also is a comic.)

More seasoned society know and love the endless Films and TV shows and serials highlighting these and other most loved brilliant characters: Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, Commander Cody (which might have enlivened the Rocketeer comic and film).

COMIC BOOKS - Born by the sheer exhurberance of the actual Universe through the vehicle of the Human Being!

The Comic Industry is an analogy forever. An inestimable dramatization unfurling. In any case, not to place old wine into new containers: Many occasions in the past Marvel and D.C. have joined to do specials that helps the play of imagination. I initially met Stan Lee while I was the administrator of a Comic Book Store in Studio City, California in the 1970's.

Or then again, more precisely, I met him through his works at Marvel Comics - his exceptional contents and mind in 1961.

Exceptionally astute association with the fans through clubs and letter sections in bygone times caused one to feel like one was a piece of something. With Merry Marvel "we had a place."

Stan Lee's accounts contained genuine person's, finished with issues and the start of incredible groundbreaking thoughts and standards for carrying on with a decent life.

As when Spider-man didn't stop a Burglar - a similar Burglar who later killed his caring Uncle- - Peter Parker (Spider-man) got the message - serve humankind. With extraordinary force comes liability.

Furthermore, obligation is the capacity to react.

Energizing anecdotal stories loaded with experience and energy with ethics. Outlined lavishly.

Wonder Super characters were at first looked on by society as trouble makers. Even subsequent to saving human butt large number of times.

J. Jonah Jameson (modest Editor of the Daily Bugle paper) has abhorred Spider-person for more than 30 years. Jameson really attempted to annihilate Spider-man by turning into a super reprobate.

Adrenaline junkie (blind Attorney yet Batman-esque in capacities and actual strength and spryness - however with uplifted faculties) the Man unafraid was regularly marked a scalawag too from the start.

Similar to the always well known Incredible Hulk - first deified as a comic book during the 1960's. Who went from dull and idiotic to approach virtuoso relying upon the decade where this suffering person is perused.

What we dread we regularly view as shrewd.

Funnies have attempted to instruct us that the means are pretty much as significant as the finishes they produce.

What we do en route decides the outcome we will get. Funnies are distributed in light of the fact that a word sounds great to the distributer. However, a portion of these new youthful free distributers need to find out about the significance inside these words (thus do their clients). However, more capacity to these ambitious youths.

What is Yoga, Meditation, Tai Chi, Mantra? What is Zen? (One youthful upstart distributer of "Harmony - intergalactic Ninja" had never known about Alan Watts - incredible advertiser of Zen until I let him know Alan Watts was a renowned and famous scholar turned maverick Philosopher and Author (one of many) liable for acquainting Eastern Religions with the profoundly starved West- - frequently heard on KPFK radio. Alan Watts is potentially the chief advertiser of Zen. Watts' book " The Wisdom of Insecurity," specifies, for goodness' sake, Comic Books. What are Chakras? The Tao implies what? When children grow up and find out with regards to Meditation will they be spoiled by our ineptitude and insatiability?

Trendy expressions ordinarily lower cognizance and create turmoil. Obviously when I use to distribute stuff as a young person I made up names that sounded great however had almost no significance, for example, Beyond Infinity, مانجا لاند, Eon the Magazine of Graphic Illusions. I know less now than I did then, at that point. What is make, craftsmanship, Love, Truth?

I held a few signature parties with Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in the 1970's and 1980's. I tossed more than 50 effective signature parties with numerous awesome comic book specialists and authors. I'd have the occasion, give rewards, do all the publicizing, realistic workmanship, official statements, and so forth It was an invigorating encounter. It was enjoyable to cooperate with professionals and fans. I parted with a ton of free promotion stuff.

10th Nebula's first signature party was held with Stan Lee, distributer of Marvel Comics. For a considerable length of time my shop suffered in North Hollywood, CA nearby to the world's most seasoned Science Fiction Club (an inherent crowd of companions and fans and PC monsters).

The Stan Lee occasion evoked long queues of Comic Book devotees of any age slobbering for Stan's mark on the sprinkle page of their old and new funnies. These days experts sign funnies on the front of their title en mass which I don't support. (Yet, who pays attention to me).

Funnies structures are frequently manhandled by hopeful youthful distributers who utilize a few pointless full page sprinkles when the impact could be accomplished in a minuscule board - misuse of cash, ink and paper if you were to ask me. Not at all like bygone times when Steve Ditko gave us our best possible value as around 6 boards for each page - he in his manner resembled a Zen Master - the accuracy of his work matched the craft of Chinese Calligraphy (see his one of a kind style in old Atlas Comics from the 1950's). A portion of the new experimentation's by Frank Miller and different gifts have all accomplished outstandingly imaginative work as well.

[jeidafei]

D.Gray-Man Chapter 234 Translation Notes

I haven’t posted a note for many chapters, but this chapter dropped so many reveal-bombs I just can’t i just can’t aaaaaaaargh gurglegurgle

/regain composure /why am I listening to “Send In The Clowns” on loop while posting this?

Ahem. So, in short, this chapter is super LIT, but also a headache to translate. As with all reveal-heavy chapters, there is no knowing how disastrous the ramifications of one tiny misinterpretation can be on future reveals. Whoops! 

So let’s peruse the story page-by-page, word-by-word, unraveling the story plus a little ramble on the Japanese language. 

Warning: this post is incredibly long

(You can skip to 5 for my wild theory on The Pillar)

1. Gawd, I’ve always hated these opening captions T T

Because they always give me this feeling of I think I kinda understand what this means but I don’t know how to translate this so it makes sense!  

紐解かれるかつての別離（わかれ）

I think I spent time on this one sentence even more than the rest of the chapter. Despite it being the first thing on the first page, this is honestly the last thing I translated this chapter.

Word-by-word, 紐解かれる (himo-tokareru) is the passive form of the verb 紐解く (himo-toku), which by definition means:

1) Unbinding and opening a new book 2) Unraveling (i.e. memories, history, the truth, etc.) 3) A flower blooming

紐 (himo) and 解く(toku) are also actually two separate words used normally in daily life. The first one means “rope” and the second means “to solve, to untie, to unravel etc.”

So, in essence, this word refers to something hidden, a secret being revealed. No surprises here, since we’re talking about D.Gray-Man. 

かつての (katsute no) means “Once”, “Used to be” whereas 別離 (betsuri) means “parting, separation” but the furigana indicates must be read as わかれ (wakare) for some reason, and means farewell or separation as well. 

I take it that as Mana and Nea were once separated by death, but now Nea has returned to Mana as he vowed to, the “farewell” is no more; it just used to be a farewell.

So now that we have all the pieces...

HOW ON EARTH DO I TRANSLATE THIS !!!???

You saw how it turned out above. To be frank, I’m still not satisfied with it, but as my period cramps are killing me and I’m literally typing this to distract my mind from it because I can’t sleep yet with this pain, and my brain is out of ideas, as always...

I’ll leave it to you guys to interpret freely!

2. Nea’s last words 

Just when I thought I’d skip that troubling caption and start on the dialogue right away, manga-kun messes with me again! Who was Nea talking to? In the background, Nea is reaching up to Mana while decaying away. However, on the next page, turns out it is Cross recalling those words. 

So I walked over to my bookshelf and picked up DGM volume 17 and 22.

In volume 17, in their last meeting before Cross disappeared, Cross told Allen that Nea promised him that he’d return to Mana if Cross kept watch over Mana. 

In volume 22, however, Road reveals to Allen that “Don’t stop, keep walking.” were Nea’s parting words to Mana.

Um...so...which is it, exactly?

So if context doesn’t help, then should we turn back to the literal word? If it were some other language I might’ve said great idea! But this is Japanese; a douchebag of a language that assumes all parties must be native speakers and privy to the conversation beforehand. And thus omits subject, verbs, and objects whenever it pleases to screw foreign learners and outsiders alike. 

Why, Nea’s sentence has no subject and object!

まってろ。必ずマナの元に行く。「アレン」が目印だ。 それまでは立ち止まるな。 

Literally this says “Keep waiting/Just you wait. (I will) definitely go to where Mana is. ‘Allen’ is the sign. Until then, don’t stand still.” 

While Nea using Mana’s name might imply that Nea’s not talking to Mana, but to someone else, otherwise he would’ve used “you/your”. But in Japanese, usually people will refer to their convo partner by name as well, i.e. Lenalee and Allen refer to everyone by name instead of “you”. This is considered neutral and politer than the textbook pronoun “anata” (which is kinda condescending actually...so why do they still keep it in the textbooks!?). 

In case you’re not that close with the person you’re talking to, and not sure which pronoun you should use, using their name is the safest bet to avoid offending them. (Don’t go calling your client omae, of course lol!)

So, back to Nea, going by this rule, he also could’ve been talking to Mana himself as well. See? Curse you, nihongo!!! 

Anyway, Nea didn’t talk to Mana/Earl that way when they met in recent(?  I dunno, my sense of time is already warped from too many hiatuses and hopeless waiting) chapters; Nea refers to Mana using the pronoun “anta” which is the shorter, more casual form of “anata”. And judging from his overall language, he’s not that polite or soft-spoken either, so the possibility is lower. 

Also it’s kinda weird to tell someone who’s sitting right in front of you that you’ll “go to” where he is.

So, using my spidey sense plus all things considered, I finally concluded that since it’s Cross’ flashback, Nea was talking to Cross this time. 

Looking back on this, I don’t know if I’d be able to translate DGM even with 50% accuracy had I not read the series from the start and have the volumes stacked on a bookshelf nearby just in case. Screw you, NIHONGO!

3. Pierrot, Clown, Auguste, Whiteface, Harlequin; What’s the difference?

In Lost Fragment of Snow, Mana is described as a Pierrot whereas Cosimo is a Clown. As I’m not well-versed in clown traditions, I did some Googling and Wikipedia, and learned the art is even more interesting and richer than I once thought:

In this informative blog , it’s explained that while in appearance, the Pierrot and the Clown are almost the same, there is one rule that sets them apart: 

The Pierrot has tear marks under his eyes, whereas the Clown does not.

The Pierrot’s tear marks:

(I just noticed Joaquin Phoenix’s Joker also has tear marks)

The blog is long and detailed and very interesting, but in short, though both the Pierrot and the Clown are supposed to make people laugh by doing foolish things, while the Clown intentionally acts foolish to be laughed at, and can also  joke back at and laugh at the audience as well, the Pierrot will always have to be laughed at and made fun of by the audience. 

Deep down, though the Pierrot is hurt and sad, he must act as if he’s not, to conceal it from the audience. Thus the tear marks indicates a deep, profound sadness.

(*pause to sob for Allen and Joker*)

Back to Mana, we can clearly see he has a tear mark on his right eye. But Cosimo has what looks to be a tear mark and a star under his eyes as well. 

So...aren’t they both Pierrots? Grrrrrrr! DAMMIT HOSHINO!!

Anyways, moving on. I think we remember that back in Allen’s epic showdown with the Earl in Edo, this scene happened:

The Earl compares Allen to the White Clown/Clown Blanc and himself to Auguste. In classic tradition, Blanc and Auguste are often paired together, and it is said that this originates from the pairing of the Pierrot and Harlequin.

No no no obviously I’m not talking about this one lol

Ahem, back to serious-ass clown lore: 

Both Blanc & Auguste and Pierrot & Harlequin are similar in that the former (Blanc and Pierrot) is more sophisticated, stern, serious and melancholic, whereas the latter (Auguste and Harlequin) is the happy, clumsy, grotesque, sometimes rude fool that does the former’s bidding, to comical results. 

In Lost Fragment of Snow, Mana is said to always be smiling and extraordinarily kind, and that he is an enchantingly elegant, beautiful clown, but when he smiles, he always looks as if he is actually crying, dying inside. 

I mean, pretty much everyone has had that moment in their lives, no? 

Okay, back to seriousness, again; Yes, Mana is the ultimate Pierrot, the Whiteface, the Blanc. The sad fool who must always be laughed at by the world. 

And now Allen, who has taken on Mana’s personality, became the melancholic laughingstock of the world himself, constantly being pushed down and trodden on and used, but having no choice but to push on with a smile, hiding his pain deep underneath the white greasepaint.

Cue the music!

I started a joke, which started the whole world crying But I didn't see that the joke was on me. I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing Oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me.

(Bee Gees - I Started A Joke)

4. Great, Cosimo had a hard life too. One more confirmed-dead character I have to cry for!

I hated Cosimo. Still do. Heck, EVERYONE HATES COSIMO. I mean, until now, the guy totally has no redeeming qualities and no justifying reason behind his relentless cruelty.

But in the recent chapters, there are reveals not mentioned in LFS: 

Cosimo was bought and forced to work as an errand boy, like Red, before he somehow crawled his way out and became the circus’s top performer. While drunk, Cosimo would also complain about how he was actually born a noble (this last one is also mentioned in LFS).

Imagine that. Your parents abandoned you for whatever reason (maybe he’s a bastard child?) and you ended up sold to slavery in a circus. After years of being worked to the bone and abused, you struck it big and thought you had it all, then new guy waltzes in with his stupid dog and takes your spotlight. 

Heck, you don’t even have to live such a rotten life to feel bitter. In Toy Story, even brave and fair Sheriff Woody was reduced to a jealous wreck in the face of Buzz Lightyear stealing Andy’s attention from him, wasn’t he? And I think we can all relate to that. Most of us have been jealous of someone before.

Cosimo’s unforgivable actions towards Mana and Allen the Dog may have been fueled by insecurity, trauma and fear as much as jealousy. His abuse towards Red is a result of long years of being abused himself; his own way to cope. 

While Red/Allen blames himself for his pain and not inflict it back upon others, Cosimo did the opposite, because everyone reacts and adapts differently. However, to be clear, both of these traits are not healthy. 

There’s also the fact that Red was saved by the kindness of Allen the Dog and Mana while he is fortunately still young enough to regain faith; whereas Cosimo suffered alone all through his life, surrounded by selfish, two-faced scumbags like that guy handing out leaflets. Had things been different, who’s to say Red might not turn out the same as Cosimo?

In a nutshell, Cosimo is simply a product of his harsh environment. While I still despise him, I can’t help feeling some pity for him and understanding where all that evil had come from. I don’t believe he is inherently bad. Nobody is. Had he been raised with love, I’m sure he would have been a very different person.

5. The Pillar

I know, this is what y’all are actually here for. I mean who cares about Cosimo’s tragic life or the difference between a Pierrot and a Clown when there’s an honest-to-gods HOLY LIGHT SPLITTING THE SKY APART AND OBLITERATING THIS WHOLE WORLD FULL OF SINNERS!? And it’s even teased, like, waaaaay back in Timothy’s Arc (gawd how old was I back then?) !!

First, a recap of this chapter: 

7,000 years ago, The Pillar destroyed the world (which seems pretty modern). The Noah survived and held a grudge against The Pillar for forever destroying their world, leaving them with nowhere to return to. Once they found the reborn Millennium Earl, they pretended to be his family, but instead are using him to exact revenge on The Pillar, because it is predicted the Earl will one day become The Pillar and destroy the world again. Cross however took pity on the Earl and chided Road for believing in that prophecy and causing the Earl so much misery.

Some IRL tidbits: 

Hoshino-sensei revealed she traveled to Ground Zero of WTC for inspiration, now we finally get to know which scene that inspiration is for. And IMO, the instant obliteration coming out of nowhere on one fine day, the Pillar etching a line from sky to ground amidst the pile of rubble, reminds me of the A-bomb’s mushroom cloud over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And we all know which country Hoshino-sensei comes from, right? Could there be a link? 

Now, my personal analysis (or rather, pointless rant with no answers coming out whatsoever): 

This chapter both confirms, clarifies and also debunks important things we have believed from our time with the Order, listening to the Order’s side of the story. 

1) In the very beginning, Komui tells Allen about the previous end of the world 7,000 years ago. The Bible calls it “The Great Flood”. The Cube calls it “The Three Days of Darkness.” However, we now learn it is neither rainy nor dark. Nope, one day all of a sudden, a blindingly bright shaft of light struck down from the sky, and The Capitol suddenly became The Scorch. How did it achieve that? No clue! 

2) Komui tells Allen that the end of the world was caused by a war between the wielders of Innocence and the Earl + the Noah Family, and the ensuing flood that destroyed the world scattered the Innocence around the world. 

However, in this chapter, we learned there was no war. There was no flood. Just the Pillar that appeared suddenly one day. And surprise, the Noah Family hated The Pillar for destroying their beloved world, their only home (wait, aren’t they supposed to hate the Innocence?). 

Yet now the Noah are working with the Earl, who wants to destroy the new world and would someday become the Pillar and destroy the new world too? Yet Cross says they’re just using him for all this time? 

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE? 

My super duper wild theory is that since 1) The Earl is the Pillar-in-Making,  2) The Noah show hatred for The Pillar as much as they do for the Innocence, 3) The Pillar, like Innocence, could trigger their Noah Memory to threaten to swallow them, then it’s kinda implied that;

Mana = The Millennium Earl = The Pillar = The Heart of Innocence

And the Noah, knowing this all along and wanting to prevent the end of the world from happening again, tricked the Millennium Earl into thinking they’re helping him fulfill his raison d'être of Harbinger of the End of The F***ing World (sorry, another reference, heh), not telling him that he’s actually the Heart of Innocence itself, watch him go after Exorcists he suspects are the Heart, and gleefully accept his orders to kill those Exorcists looking for the Heart, in order to prevent the Black Order from ever getting the Earl aka the Heart on their side. 

They also let the Earl create legions of Akuma to fight the Exorcists and destroy all the Innocence shards, literally using the Earl to destroy himself, keeping him away from his true allies, chipping away at his lifeline one shard at a time, like Harry crushing Voldemort’s horcruxes one by one, not knowing he’s a Horcrux himself. Until finally, when there is nothing left but the greatly weakened Heart with no army to protect it, then will the Noah have the chance to defeat it once and for all. 

And of course while they keep the Earl busy searching for the Heart, old man will never pause and think hmmm, maybe I am the Heart? 

Perhaps this is why Wisely said that all humans who have awoken into Noah will accept their duty once they learned of Noah’s mission. Since Noah’s mission now seems to be preventing the end of the world at the hands of Innocence, which I take as God’s power, and God’s weapon for “cleansing” the world whenever he deems it too sinful. 

After all, we have seen the horrors Innocence can do, the lengths Innocence will go to punish people it judged to have sinned. Innocence is said to be a crystallization of God, and like God, it has been foreshadowed numerous times to have that ruthless, merciless, unforgiving streak within it that could alienate even Allen himself.

Anyway, I typed this one without checking the earlier volumes that much. I expect there will be several loopholes, so be sure to point out any inaccuracies and also please, please do let me know what you guys think of these reveals as well! I’d love to hear differing theories!

Other tidbits

The Garvey Troupe, not Garbeigh. Sorry, everyone. Phonetically, Japanese does not have the “v” sound. Nowadays, you can write it out by adding the mark on the ウ (u) letter like this: ヴ, but most words would still transliterate it to the “b” sound, and most Japanese people will still have trouble pronouncing the “v” sound properly anyway. For example, “Violin” could be written both as (v)ヴァイオリン or (b)バイオリン, and most people would pronounce it like the latter.

Do you think Road’s memories of the End of the World has anything to do with Lenalee and Allen’s shared dream of the End of the World as well? Though Lenalee’s nightmare features the Black Order in ruins and not the modern skyscrapers of Road’s. 

So Cross knew Nea and Mana from childhood!? I’ve always thought he met Nea by chance when they are grownups and he was forced to do Nea’s bidding. Interesting!! 

So, that’s it for this chapter! Phew! That was uber long. Thank you so much for bearing with me this far. Hit me up in comments!

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #5

Another piece of the multichapter fic. What you need to know: Ziva returned weeks after ppf. Now she and Tony are in a relationship and preparing to birth/raise a child together. This is their first ultrasound.

I remember learning so much about pregnancy while trying to research this chapter, but it’s still probably inaccurate. All the more reason to include it in amnesty. 

Remember: these are old. Be nice. 

Tony winced as a nurse in blue stuck a needle into his girlfriend’s arm and drew blood into a series of small vials. Ziva was totally calm and at ease throughout the entire process, and he found himself asking her how the hell she did that after the mean blood-stealing nurse had walked out of their small exam room.

“Not everyone is afraid of needles, Tony.” 

He made a face, “Well they would be if they ever had the plague.” 

She shrugged and turned to listen to another nurse who was holding up a small cup and giving her directions to the nearest bathroom. She slid off the table effortlessly and shot him a wink as she moved past him and out the door. 

“Did you say you had the plague?” Yet another nurse was holding up a clipboard and addressing him.

“Uh, yeah. White pestis.” 

She looked at him incredulously, “How the hell did you get pneumonic plague in the 21st century?” 

He grimaced, “Occupational hazard, I suppose.” 

She just stared at him for another second before glancing down at the clipboard, “Well, that isn’t one of the diseases on my list, and I don’t think it would have any effect on your potential offspring, but I’ll mention it to the doctor just to be safe. Any other medical conditions we should know about? Anything that runs in the family?” 

He swallowed, finding this miniature interrogation to be much less tolerable without Ziva in the room, sending him reassuring looks every time the nurse made any sort of concerned comment.

“Just dangerous charm and good looks,” he smiled awkwardly, finding that his normal jokes were much harder to pull when confronted with the possibility of passing on some horrible genetic disorder to his kid. 

The nurse didn’t roll her eyes, thankfully, and she went on to make several marks on the paper in front of her. Once she seemed to be done, she stood back a bit and gave him a once-over.

“Why did you wait so long?” She asked. 

His eyes widened, “Excuse me?” 

“To have kids. Why did you wait?” 

He looked around desperately, sending telepathic pleas to Ziva, wherever she was, to return quickly, “Uh, that feels like a pretty weighted question.”

She shrugged, “Not really. It’s just- you’re considerably older than most of the men we have come through here.” 

He stared at her, mouth open, completely unsure of how to respond.

“Am I older than most of the women you see here?” Ziva’s voice was in the doorway as she placed the now full cup on a table just outside where she had been told the nurse would grab it. 

The nurse seemed surprised, “Uh, no, actually. You fit the age range quite well, Miss David.” 

Ziva made her way back across the room to the table, purposely walking between him and the nosy nurse on her way, forcing the woman to take another step away from him, “That’s good, considering my age is likely to have a much more profound impact on the health of our child.” 

Her words seemed to draw the nurse out of whatever unprofessional daze she was in, and she quickly dismissed herself from the exam room saying she would talk to the doctor and they would return shortly. 

Once she was gone, Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, “Thank you.” 

She smirked, “What? You cannot handle the interrogation when it’s you in the hot spot?” 

“Hot seat. And no, I can handle an interrogation just fine. That- “he gestured in front of him, referencing the awkward conversation for more emphasis, “That was a full on ambush.” 

“She is one small woman. How could she have ambushed you?” 

He stood from what had been referenced to him as the “daddy chair” and joined her at the exam table, “She’s good, that’s how. She starts with the simple, innocent questions. Then she starts digging around, asking if you’ve been exposed to this and if you’ve ever contracted that. And then, when she has you right where she wants you: BAM! She attacks a man’s age. I have a feeling that wasn’t the first time she did that dance. I’m almost impressed by her strategy.” 

Ziva rolled her eyes, “She was only asking questions to gauge the health risks of the child, Tony. She was doing her job.” 

“That’s easy for you to say. How come you didn’t have to go through your own trip down memory lane? Doesn’t your medical history matter, too?” 

She shrugged, “I have been a patient here for years. Dr. Brown already has my medical history.”

“You’ve been going to a pregnancy doctor for years?” 

“She is an OBGYN,” she watched as his face contorted at the word and knew she would have to explain more, “That means she-” 

“Takes care of mommies and not yet mommies all the same,” A woman with auburn hair and a comically small pair of glasses on a chain around her neck entered the room gracefully, moving immediately to Ziva’s side, leaving her flanked by her boyfriend and her doctor.

“Oh, Ziva. It is always a pleasure. It has been too long,” she glanced down towards her stomach at that comment, “And I suppose that is why we are here today. You know that 99% effective promise only holds true if you show up to receive your shots, right?” 

Ziva looked down, embarrassed for blowing off her health in the midst of all the chaos of the last year.

The doctor took that opportunity to address the other half of the couple, “And you must be the father,” she held out her hand, “My name is Dr. Cynthia Brown, and I will be taking care of your baby, and the mama.” 

“Tony,” he responded, shaking her hand automatically. 

“I wish I could say that I’ve heard great things about you, Tony, but I can’t say that Ziva has ever mentioned you. Have you two been together long?” 

Ziva’s eyes wandered around the room awkwardly, clearly uneasy about the situation. 

He took it upon himself to reply, “We haven’t been officially together for very long, but it’s complicated.” 

Dr. Brown looked fondly at the two of them, “It always is with baby daddies. Now, I want to be transparent with both of you. Based on Ziva’s medical history, I am labeling this as a high risk pregnancy without even examining the fetus. It is just a precaution on my side, and nothing to worry about for now. However, I do want to see you every 6 weeks to check in and make sure things are progressing the way they should,” She took a step closer to Ziva and gently took her hand, “I am not saying you are going to have complications, sweetheart. I am just being careful.”

Ziva nodded, only letting her eyes flutter toward Tony’s concerned expression for a second, “Thank you, Cynthia.”

The Doc turned around and retrieved a cart from behind a curtain, rolling it toward the table so they could all see it, “Most parents are the most excited - and nervous - about the ultrasound, so I say we get that out of the way first. When did you say your last menstrual period was?” 

“September 25. But I know we conceived around October 4th,” she sent Tony a heavy look, and he had to fight back a cheeky smile at the thought of those few days when they locked themselves in her parent’s farm house and did nothing but revel in their new found and quickly fleeting intimacy. 

“Right. So that should put you around the 7 or 8 week mark, so there is a good chance we will be able to hear the heartbeat today,” the doctor started fumbling with the machinery and the screen on the top turned on. 

“Okay, Mommy, I’m going to ask you to change into this gown really quick. You can step behind that curtain if you would like,” she gestured towards the back corner and Ziva obediently hopped off the table and went to change. 

“I thought ultrasounds were just done on the stomach. Why does she need to be in a gown?” 

“You must watch a lot of movies, Tony?” 

Ziva let out a hearty laugh from behind the curtain.

“I guess you could say that,” he answered.

“Well, then you must know that in movies they often sacrifice accuracy to make a situation seem less awkward. In the real world, the first ultrasound is normally done transvaginally since the fetus is too small to see in a typical one,” Dr. Brown reached underneath the exam table and lifted two metal bars with tube like attachments on top. 

Tony wasn’t sure he liked where this was going. 

Ziva returned in her hospital robe and hopped up on the table, unphased by the appearance of the metal contraptions. She laid back on the table and reached for his hand, pulling him closer toward her head as the doc lifted each of her legs and guided them into the waiting stirrups. 

“Don’t make this weird, Tony.” 

He looked pointedly at her lower half as the doc pulled out a long tubular instrument and approached the table, “Everything about this is weird. I’m the least weird part of this right now.” 

She rolled her eyes for what must have been the hundredth time that day and nodded toward Dr. Brown, giving her the okay to start the exam.

[mantrabay]

Hitchiker From Another World.

Saturday an overarching day that's both conduit and shelter for souls in transition.

Thoughts of the more disturbing kind may intrude.

Little did I know what lay ahead.

All these scenarios flashed across my mind as the wheels of my car screeched to a halt.

Shafts of radiant sunlight revealed a light green leaf entwined placard.

An obscure but apocryphal question -

Going somewhere?

A hitchhiker appeared with the most expressive eyes.

Like shining windows admitting the rush of a golden dawn.

Her rippling nuanced voice spoke.

“Hello, I'm Lelia. Life is a series of stops

and strange encounters.

A journey of some kind.”

Thought-provoking stuff!

She extended her supple silken right hand.

“Hop in.

I'm Joshua King. Going anywhere in particular?"

I enquired archly after the ritual handshake.

"Besides going somewhere or nowhere!”

I continued.

"In one sense I'm not sure.

But there is this place we should all go to.

You'll know what I mean later.”

Lelia mysteriously.

"Not to worry.

Travel is therapy for me."

What made me, Joshua King, say that?

The mind can be overpopulated with figments.

Frustrated figments waiting for that frenzied freedom dash.

This svelte lady wearing an azure padded jacket and sea blue denims glided gracefully into my car.

Hatha yoga asana entry.

My pinstripe attire seemed conventional

on a philosophical journey man.

"Love the aroma ....air freshener.

Orchard in a vehicle.

Symbol of attempted purge."

The hitchhiker's dulcet voice drooping.

Redolent of metaphysics classes I had to abandon.

I was naive enough to believe that attending these courses would fix my “issues.”

More than just momentary bugs.

They couldn't be spray canned away.

I was, however, adept at avoiding their resolution.

My “issues” were other "selves.”

I called them timid, anxious, fidgety ,scrupulous withdrawn.

“What’s more I chat to them.

These chats I call the "whispers.”

Will Lelia notice?”

My twin brother, Jonah, a twin in “every sense” could point to my tendency to flee.

We spotted each other’s flaws with aplomb.

Banter between mirror images of real selves!

Tortured twin psyches.

Jonah was an integral part of these "whispers" too!

All these thoughts were doing hula hoops in my head.

In the process peculiarities surfaced with Lelia..

"I'm Lelia again. Don't forget. You probably won't.

This place I alluded to is but a distance from here.

Distance is a gulf whose magnitude is shaped by its smoothness of passage.

Or the fate that awaits one.

My destination is another world altogether."

Lelia’s cryptic crossword setter.remark.

Tapping my shoulder she extended her hand again.

Her fingers and thumb spatially arranged with tutored

stillness.

Was that repetition a neurotic oddity or a symptom of a deeper malaise?

I nodded to the said hand gesture.

We both brushed this bizarre incident off.

The spot on asides and the strict avoidance of that verbal litter referred to as small talk suggested we should.

Pauses. They did surface periodically.

The silence was then punctuated by a sudden remark.

"All those conifers. Look at how they reach out to the sky.”

One of Lelia’s poetic observations.

“They seem so close yet isolated.

There is something almost within their grasp.

Almost.”

Lelia nonplussed.

“See the adjoining fields. The green is but a cover. They are as neighbours in a high rise flat.

One could say they are both connected and disconnected at the same time.”

Lelia resting her case.

“I'm a bit of a writer and maths researcher.”

I proffered.

"Recluses some say.

Oh, I didn't mean you

Necessarily.”

Ouch, said my shattered Id.

Lelia, archer of the scar inflicting jibe.

Bow and arrow baroness of stinging broadsides.

This offshoot to our conversation was infused with a wry allusion.

Insight on a whim.

We both laughed at the incongruity of a conversation that had become elliptical in form.

Tangents cropped up as impetus to the other person's willingness to reveal themselves.

Lelia didn't exactly volunteer her vocation but left clues.

“You didn't say what you did?

Student ...essayist ...author."

Me sounding Lelia out.

“Oh no children….dashing right across the road in front of us.

Squealing with delight. Whoops of innocent joy? They are sticking out their tongues now!”

Hair-raising moment I hadn't anticipated.

I spied Lelia sticking her tongue out at those reckless varmints.

She stopped the minute I noticed.

“Children …….sometimes you have to act like a kid when dealing with kids."

Straight and to the point from this hitchhiker.

She now resumed the thread of an earlier topic.

“Work ….you asked about work.

I sort of work and play with the mind.

Play act too.”

A retort of sudoku like complexity.

As I digested lelia’s response it dawned on me how much like people my "selves”were.

Even when driving I "dialogued” those various aspects.

“You've an interesting face. The face is like a map, I say.

Heard you mutter about your "selves."

Leslie being cheeky.

Silence as challenge started to creep in.

Russian roulette without rules.

“Watch your driving, there." Lelia being brash.

Her different voices now somersaulting.

“Very quite aren't we, Josh?"

Josh mark you!

Grilling me like an interrogator trying to crack a stubborn suspect.

Without a word of warning Lelia raised her voice and got into a tantrum.

“What's the matter ….lost something?”

Joshua said anxiously.

A curious search resembling a scrum ensued.

Then more silence.

I craned my neck and spotted an uncanny regression.

Lelia talking to herself in a child-like manner and then changing tack.

“Don't worry. Found what I was looking for.”

Another void.

A tense lull. A little lockjaw appears when the juice runs out of discourse.

I squinted in the mirror once more.

This time Lelia was talking to her palm.

Staring vacantly at it she kept repeating the name Linda.

Lelia continued oblivious to what I saw or might be thinking.

She hummed this strange lullaby.

Suddenly my "selves" surfaced in an uncontrollable flurry.

I tried to suppress them but failed abysmally.

The "whispers and selves" started to have a life of their own.

This car is getting a bit crowded.

It's being converted into a train with fantasy passengers on board.

The sort one hears late at night hurtling through the countryside as dim lights flicker.

Both inside and outside this vehicle a tumult of events was took place.

Out of the blue the rain poured heavily.

“The gods or the elements must be cross or something.” Lelia opined.

“Let’s get introduced to my playmate in a palm.

Linda, these are Joshua’s true other selves.”

Lelia chuckling.

A comic situation arose where I changed my voice for each of my "selves" by way of introduction.

My great powers of concentration helped while driving.

"Pleased to meet you, Linda.”

Lelia altered her voice when teasing all my "selves."

She had some experience as a ventriloquist.

But Lelia was having this hypnotic effect too.

I was being manipulated.

One by one my highly personalised complexes were being extracted and subject to a rigorous interrogation.

This was some hitchhiker.

Was this car journey now becoming a high rent farce or a mock therapy session from an amateur shrink?

The rain continued to lash and my other "selves" felt like the last sting of a dying wasp.

A certain lightness ensued.

Almost as if my “aspects” were floating away.

For the first time my "other selves“ didn't seem to have this grip on me.

But deep down I knew I wanted to keep a little of them.

Although they were a burden they did have their positive aspects.

“Jonah … he still bugs doesn't he.

He’s almost like one of those "other selves!"

The "whispers" I heard earlier … I've a very delicate ear.

Those under the breath "whispers" gave the game away.

The names and complex relations between them."

Lelia now probing very deeply.

The wind howled and seafront rain waves splashed across my bonnet

There was a warped synchronicity.

As my complexes receded so did the thunderous weather.

They were working in tandem.

“Wash it all away. Come on, come on

See me waving my wand.”

Lelia chanted.

The Exorcist film had nothing on this.

Before his very eyes Joshua's "reticence" and the other "selves" were disappearing virtually.

Against the backdrop of all this inner and outer cacophony Lelia kept looking out the window.

Was that this home she mentioned earlier getting closer as Joshua was

"going home” to himself?

“Windows are amazing.

They show us the world but sometimes screen us from it.”

Lelia notes.

fog from the car window.

“Trees and branches swaying. Clouds darkening.

Thickening ominously.

Exodus of pedestrians seeking answers.”

Her voice penetrating Joshua.

“Am I being cleansed of what they call inner demons?"

Joshua panic stricken.

"This other worldly person has me spellbound.

There's a chessboard in this moving vehicle.

A total stranger has me in her palm.” .

Lelia assumed various postures.

As Joshua was the driver she didn't want to send him to sleep.

Lelia's voice was either hypnotist's drone or excited sports commentator.

Joshua could never forget this encounter.

“Don't forget Jonah too. Joshua wherever he might be.”

Her sinister tone rising.

“The name on your credit card.

I found it earlier when searching for my script.

Joshua Jonah king.”

Joshua confessed he was an only child.

“Am I a prisoner?.

Must button my lip.

I'm being freed and incarcerated by this person, the likes of whom I've never met before.”

Joshua felt a final therapeutic process coursing through him.

Very little was left of his "selves,” whispers.”

Joshua drove through a stoically preserved area whose haunting nature was blurred by this encounter.

“Terrible to have all these half-worlds revealed with such clinical accuracy.”

Joshua to himself.

Lelia's voice gradually lost its domineering tone.

At this point by accident or design the tense atmosphere eased.

“You are probably wondering where this is all going to end.

Maybe I have whispers, Jonah's and selves to face too.”

A casual Lelia random comment.

On this occasion a composite of adult confidence and infantile charm.

“Oh here we are, this place.”

She stated.

Joshua had undergone some sea change catharsis.

“Should I thank Lelia or what?

Jonah my make-believe twin. Don't really need him do I?”

Joshua pondered.

“Back to earth my dear.

This is where we part.”

Lelia again.

“Better change the name on that credit card.

It could bug your company!”

Lelia cackles..

“See that building..

It's called “Another World School of Acting.”

Acting is therapy..

Therapy in every sense!

They are auditioning for a play

“Inside The Split Mind." She said.

"Wonder will I get the part?”

Lelia looked away sadly.

“Off I go. Enjoy yourself or yourselves or whatever is left of them.”

Lelia laughing through her tears.

“Better get out of here fast, Josh.” Joshua to himself.

“I'm beginning to sound like her.” Joshua now driving at top speed.

“It will be awhile before I offer someone a lift again.

I suppose I should be grateful to her.” Joshua’s face now a deep red.

"Well, Jonah, I guess I'm going to miss you and all those "issues" in a way.

But at least I can be myself …. sort of.”

Short story by mantrabay copyright protected.

Completion of earlier submission

[inheritorofmemories-archive]

Twitter is not a good place and I have opinions.

Okay so, just visited Twitter to see how they like The Old Guard and please remind to never go there for anything more than artist’s posts and memes.

(This is more of a rant than a cohesive explanation of my thoughts but I won’t lose my time on Twitter for that and I still need to talk about it, so we’re here. Okay, here goes-)

Of course spoiler warning for the whole movie.

"it's bad, it's not creative, it's boring, there's no story apart from bad guys pharma and good guys mercenaries."

Did we watch the same movie?? It's like those Mad Max Fury Road reviews who kept saying "they leave and come back, no plot har har I’m very funny" when the whole point of the movie is about staying where you live and make this place better, not abandoning it because you risk abandoning your true self with the land (amongst other things the movies tries to say).

Yeah maybe the story is a bit seen, pharma and all. But the whole plot revolve around the Old Guards and their emotions. It's about a tired warrior finding hope, and a young immortal finding her place, and how to deal with loss and grief and solitude, it's about finding purpose in helping other because that's what human do, help each other. It's a lot more than fight scenes and bad pharma (which, maybe it's an old trope but it's still very true to this day, please keep portraying pharma CEO as comically bad because they are!)

It's like men can't understand a story unless there's lots of death and unnecessary trauma. Can't you enjoy a story about found family and hope and kindness for one another like everyone else?

Here are the critics I saw, and why I think it’s bullshit, point by point because I’m petty like that:

The characters are flat and two dimensional: I mean, no? Sure, Joe and Nicky are not the center of attention, and we see Booker tired and a traitor, and the human ones are bit glossed over (though we see enough to understand them, Copley and his wife, the scientist that thinks she’s helping humanity, etc.), but Andy and Nile are fully developed? What else do you need?

Andy is a very old, very tired immortal that has a very complicated past (that we see a lot of) and her motivations, state of mind and thoughts are well explained (they all say she’s old, and tired, we know about Quynh; hell, Andy’s first line is about that) and we know she lost purpose, and she finds it within the film! She changes! Her character evolves in interactions to other but mostly Nile. Speaking of her- i know I’m repeating myself but what else do you need to consider a character not flat? She loves her family but doesn’t run to them because she’s not an idiot. She’s a fighter, a marine, a very competent one at that, but she still gets scared by being an immortal, she asks questions, she’s compassionate, she feels! All while being a bad ass fighter. She has agency, makes her own choices and choose her way, she has motivation and she know what she brings to the team and is not afraid of saying her thoughts and needs.

And even Booker and Nicky and Joe have full character, even if shown less. We have Booker’s back story, and we know he cares a lot despite all his hurt (he says he did it to help Andy die, which was still wrong and selfish, but he was genuinely trying to do something because he hurt so much). Nicky and Joe have a softer side, and sure it’s mostly conveyed through their own love story but they hug the other Guards and Nicky brings food for Andy and Joe jokes around (still thinking about that “faster than the elevator” line). Yeah it’s not a deep character study but it’s more than about half action movies today, and it’s enough in the story to make me care about all of them, even Copley. Although a lot of that may come form the actors too.

The fights scenes are bad: apparently they’re boring and do not do justice to the comics. I can’t speak for the last one, but boring? Again, did we watch the same movie? Yeah, there’s no big explosions and fire everywhere and collapsing buildings, but they’re not boring. I’m sorry my tastes are superior but I’d rather be shown the talents of a covert team of immortal warriors though discretion and efficiency. Why would they need explosions when they can juggle swords, axes, rifles and guns so smoothly you don’t even see a shift in their stance? See first fight in South Sudan. Why would I need collapsing buildings when I can have a team of fighters swapping weapons together like nothing? That scene at Merricks’s building where they all reload and change guns and the camera turns around and panel over all of them? That was dope and a very creative way to show how smooth they work together (with Nile added! So way to go to show the new group dynamics.) through a smooth and continuous camera movement. I could go on, but where did you see the boring fight scene. Yes there’s no cool lights and tricks a la John Wick, but if it did they would have complained it was a rip off, so...

The cinematography is bad: Just because it’s more understated doesn’t mean it’s bad. Yes, there’s no neon lights or cool shots like other might have (looking at you John Wick, since everyone seems to compare the two movie) but it serves the story. It’s because it’s so simple visually that you can get into the feelings and story. You don’t look at the light, you look at the actions and the faces. And honestly, I think it suits the Guards better. They look timeless, they fit in everywhere. A photography that’s striped down to the necessary only serves the story. I don’t see them in safe houses with a bunch of lights and modern furniture, just like I don’t see expensive shots and over the top choreography for them. As I said, they’re a covert team, they’re smooth and efficient, I like that the photography align on that and show them in simple shots.

tl;dr: Just because it’s simple doesn't mean it’s bad, sometimes that's what you need to work with the story and its characters and themes.

Not enough story and too much nothing to fill in: I mean, they die 12 minutes in, you get all the stakes, antagonist and themes in like 20 minutes, what else do you need? There’s break in the actions to expose plot and concept, but it never feels wrong or too much of a info dump, it’s fluid and natural because we’re following Nile into the immortal world.

Bad Pharma is Bad: Yeah, let’s talk about that. (Cautions, purely opinions, no real arguments to change someone’s mind here) I don’t care if it’s cliché, not when pharma in the US keep rising the price of Insulin every month, not when pharma all over the world send their faulty medicine to third world country because there’s no one that cares enough there, not when you know they purposefully don’t finance HIV researches because triple therapy gets them a lot of money, not when you hear about the experimentation and how they get their resources and literally everything that I’m not getting into right now. Who cares if they’re show as bad people once again, they are! You think CEO care about anything but money? If it feels wrong in the movie it’s because it is wrong.

Tell me no one in our world would kidnap and torture immortals to find their power. And don’t talk to me about bad representation of CEO and exceptions, I don’t care. One exception doesn’t make all the other suddenly better or worth the wrong they’re doing. So yeah, give me more cliché good guys fight bad CEO, I love it.

They did not use their concept enough: Again, where? To me, they did all they could with that concept, you get all the things you can only get with the concept, interesting and fun one. They are still afraid of dying one day, and even if they’re not (i.e. Andy or Booker) their brand of immortality doesn’t mean they’re not afraid of being captured: the Quynh scene happens literally just before Nicky and Joe are kidnapped exposing us the stake of being immortal, talk about good script work, right? Talking about fun trope: you have the millennium old couple that use to kill each other but now love each other, the classic ennemies to lovers we all love, you have the strategy of using your immortality to your advantage and destabilize your opponent: Nile walking into Merrick’s building and getting herself killed on purpose only to stand again and use the guard’s shock and lack of preparation against them, you have the fun references to real historical figures that comes with immortality: Rodin, Napoleon, etc...

I’ll link to this video I found that talks about this better than me, but basically, they did use their concept, a lot, and well.

The music: I can’t really say anything about that one. Maybe you don’t like the style they used, and that’s fair. To each their own. But it wasn’t too much like other Netflix’s movie (Looking at you 6 Underground. Four (4) song of the same artist in one movie?) but again, it’s Netflix, they use modern songs in their soudtracks, you should expect it. I didn’t bother with the lyrics accuracy to the actions, but each time the music fit well in tune and mood of the scene. And the actual score made for the movie was really good, not too much but still supported the actions and dialogues on screen like it should.

And my favorite yet, we’ve already seen it. I don’t have any smart answer to that apart from I’m sorry you’re a cishet, but found family is the superior trope and I hope you can one day see it too. Who cares if we’ve already seen it, it’s a different flavor! It’s no X-Men flavor, it’s Old Guard flavor and I love it. Have you heard of the Hero’s Journey? How Lord of the Ring, Star Wars and Harry Potter all have the basic same plot? And yet you can like all three of them for different reasons? Because they’re not the same flavors? Well, apply that to the immortal group of fighters and enjoy it.

Okay, that’s most of my thoughts on the film for now, but to make it short: it’s good and those people can’t appreciate good things that are more feelings and humanity than fist fights and nihilism. How dare a movie say we’re good and need each other and not end in a pathetic discovery that all the word deserves to burn.