#there is such a funny post from several months ago in my drafts but its also soooo. im not saying that. i dont need to share that

[aropride]

ok fine i’ll say it i think in the right circumstances if a beautiful flamboyantly homosexual man were giving me a piercing i think i. nevermind im not saying that

[annabellewynter]

Hi! I'm new to Writerblr and excited to be here.

The name I go by is Annabelle Wynter.

I am a married female in my 40s.

I have two kiddos that keep me busy and an adorable pup named Beast that loves to snuggle. Here's my buddy.

I love to read every genre! There really isn't one I don't like, it mostly just depends on my mood.

Some of my favorite books are Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Stephanie Plum novels, Court of Thorns and Roses, Bridgerton Series, Grapes of Wrath, I'm seriously all over the place.

I am the same way with television and love Schitts Creek, true crime documentaries, Sons of Anarchy, Vikings, and cheesy reality TV.

My daughters are really into WWE and I love Rhea Ripley and Becky Lynch.

I also write in several genres and currently have two WIP.

The first is a novel that's in its second draft. I'm working on additional changes and will be sharing them on this platform as well as Wattpad. It's a romantic mystery called Surving Karma.

The second WIP is a Regency Romance called Wild Lavender. I have posted the first chapter on here and Wattpad. Summaries are below the cut.

I would LOVE to read some of my fellow writerblrs, so please Tag me to check out your work.

My DMs are open and I love making friends.

Happy writing/reading!

Karma, the universe's funny little way of keeping a tally on each of us and making sure that before the end, it all evens out.

I believe in Karma. And that is why I have spent the past five years working my ass off to try to add some good juju to my scorecard. The first twenty-something years? Well, let's be honest, I have some serious marks against me; and that's just what I can remember!

My name is Collins Alexander, and I'm a recovering alcoholic.

Five years ago, I hit my bottom in a serendipitous fall from grace that landed me a month in rehab, an end to my law career and an eviction from my high rise apartment in the Chicago loop.

Now I'm trying to offset my negative balance with Karma by devoting my life to helping other addicts in a state run rehab. And things were going pretty well too, until the handsome District Attorney, Keaton Donnelly showed up with a picture of my former defendant, missing a few appendages and news that I was next.

And if that wasn't bad enough, they assigned an undercover agent to assist. His name is Derek Nowak and he's got intel on the Chicago gang scene and a smile known for dropping panties all over the Midwest. This is doing nothing to help my mind stay focused on keeping all my appendages intact.

So here I am, in my black bootie Louboutins, a final remnant of my prior life, holding a steaming cup of black coffee and running like hell.

Cause Karma is nasty bitch, and she's coming to settle a score.

Summary: Everett Greenwood never expected to be the Duke of Rorchester, that was a job for his older brother. But when sudden tragedy strikes, he finds himself thrust into a life he never wanted. Then he sees Melina delivering honey to the grand hall. The girl who lives in a shack in the woods becomes the only love his heart has ever known, but can society accept the simple woman as his choice? And will secrets from her past destroy their chance at love? Find out in Wild Lavender.

[toasted-spiders]

it turns out this wasnt explained but here's why i've been inactive (a real reason that made for a fun blog post)

ive actually been avoiding tumblr for weeks because. [deep breath] i STILL havent watched the new spiderverse movie and my dash IS FULL OF SPIDERVERSE CONTENT

why is it full of spiderverse content? cause im a dummy. i followed all the spiderverse tags in may because i was super super psyched. i just didn't KNOW that i wasn't going to watch the movie until [checks date] until OVER A MONTH LATER.

but so many people watched the movie the day it came out. and they were posting about it. a lot.

at first i was like ok thats fine, i can still use tumblr, i will just wade through all the cool spider-punk fanart - BAM!!! HUGE SPOILERS ABOUT THE MAN HIMSELF O'HARA

^ also it was accompanied by this image which is scary enough on its own thanks

I WAS HORRIFIED!

"so why don't you just unfollow the tag spy?" you ask reasonably, sipping juice from your #1 MUTUAL mug.

ok but that would require going near the posts to which the tag belongs. being able to see that post. clicking on the spiderverse tag. being able to see what's in the spiderverse tag. and then clicking unfollow,

and then repeating the process for all the other spiderverse-related tags i have followed. which is oh yeah EIGHTEEN. (or something.)

the risks are too high. the stakes, too great.

"but spy, you could still post things by going directly to your drafts folder," you reason reasonably.

i COULD. yes. certainly.

i COULD if me-from-several-weeks-ago had realized that if i save 40-odd posts to my drafts every day, in less than a week i would arrive at the Point Of No Return (To My Drafts Folder). thats 388 drafts, guys. what am i supposed to do with three-eighty-eight drafts? drown?

[steeples fingers] in conclusion, i will not be returning to tumblr until a) i have watched across the spiderverse and b) i can get over my visceral terror of the three-eighty-eight.

gasp good news! one of these will be easier than the other because

I'M GOING TO SEE ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE IN THEATRES IN LESS THAN AN HOUR

my mom actually told me WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS POST that my dad booked the tickets so i will FINALLY GET TO SEE WHAT'S UP WITH MIGUEL O'HARA <- that last part was not her words

like i remember him from the first movie's post credits scene? he was so funny?? the part in '67 had me like "omg 😂😂" because that happened before we started using skulls and also i really loved this new spiderman ok,

but now he's SCARY? and also (aforementioned mild spoiler incoming) not really spiderman?? so i wa

wait wait oh crap

the movie's in LESS THAN AN HOUR!!

YEAH I GOTTA RUN BYE

[youngpettyqueen]

🗣️❌?

🗣️ "Talk about your favourite WIP"

"rumour has it" cause its just a ridiculous silly concept. I typically focus on writing a lot of emotional stuff that leans more into angst, so this one is fun cause its just silly! its fun! there are no stakes to it its just Hawkeye being a pain in the ass while BJ takes things way too seriously. there's no heartbreaking reveal to be had, no angsty twist, its just MASH shenanigans

I like to think of this fic as like. the B plot to an episode thats got horrors going on elsewhere. like in the background of all this nonsense you've probably got something traumatizing going on but its nowhere to be seen here. this is the bridge subplot of The Best of Enemies. this is BJ and his motorcycle in Blood and Guts. this is my magnum opus and I cant wait to share it because its soooo funny for me

also its fun dialogue practice because MASH jokes and one liners are ELITE

❌ "What WIP do you find the most challenging? Why?"

the last chapter of "and miles to go before i sleep" is being such a royal pain in my ass and I WISH I knew why. im almost done im ALMOST done but the last bits are just. biting me. im not sure why because I love this fic, I love this concept ive got, but for some reasons the words will not come to me. im wrestling with myself and first drafting- as if I havent been drafting the rest of my fics, INCLUDING the first two chapters- really hard with this one

I think some of it might be because this is my first multi chapter fic since I was... 14? so im just out of practice with scheduled updating. hindsight being 20/20 I would wait to post the start of a multi chapter fic till ive fleshed out the remaining chapters more- im used to multi chapter writing with like, the actual novel im working on, which. ive been working on for several years. im USED to taking my time. and there's nothing wrong with doing that with fics! but next time id go in more prepared so I dont accidentally leave people on a cliffhanger. for over a month

(im gonna finish it in the next few days I swear I SWEAR)

? "Choose a random WIP and talk about it"

hm lets see for this one ill go with... “it’s not chicken soup, but it’s good for the soul”

this one's tagged to Carry On, Hawkeye and its just a scene of Trapper taking care of Hawkeye while he's sick. its gonna be very short, very sweet, it comes from a place of wanting to explore some Hawkeye and Trapper (and Hawkeye/Trapper) feelings and such. I dont write nearly enough with them and I want to do more! and what better way to do that than with one of my fav episodes?

fun fact about this one, I had actually started an early draft ages ago, where it was a scene between Hawkeye and Margaret instead, but I ended up scrapping it. I repurposed some of it into "a good nurse (friend, a good friend)" which is a scene with Margaret taking care of a sick Hawkeye, but its not set in that episode and rather set sometime post-s6. the original draft wasn't working for me the way I wanted it to so I ended up scrapping it, but recently I was thinking about Carry On, Hawkeye again so I decided to try and crack at it with Trapper because ive been meaning to write more with him

listen the MASH tag is full of people clamouring for more hurt Hawkeye and sick Hawkeye and what am I if not a people pleaser. im here to deliver im here to provide the hurt/comfort. also I just love to do this to him. thats how you know he's my fav because I keep putting him in situations or expanding on the situations the show put him into. this is how I show affection

[dragon-swords-prophecies]

I read your tags on my post twice, and I literally have to ask about Jerry. Tell me literally anything and everything you want to, that is Such a fun a concept

There is so much about Jerry. So much.

he is technically a human. technically. he's currently a talking sword! he also is *checks notes* 397! He died/got stuck inside the sword when he was in his late thirties/early forties and then he's been in the sword for about 360 years!

how did he get in the sword?

this requires a little bit of backstory explanation. basically two of the four MCs of my main wip (Frost & Fire) are half dragon, half elf, and their parents were, once upon a time, adventurers! so was Jerry! do you see where I am going hopefully? they were adventurers together!

during one of their later quests they needed to kill/defeat a (theoretically evil) dragon. dragon lairs have weird weird magic.

sometimes weird magic will mess with souls and stuff.

sometimes when you perish while fighting a dragon in a dragon's lair your soul gets, uh, a little lost.

(further below cut because uh. length!)

well, a lot lost. part of jerry, the part thats actually his personality and his memories and stuff, got stuck in his sword (the name of the sword was Dragonslayer. This means that sometimes Jerry gets called dragonslayer)!

Through a series of events that I'm still not sure of the sword, with him inside, is lost. for several centuries.

Then! someone finds it! in a weird crypt underground that is definitely not where they put him last but whatever maybe he got lost (he did. he got very lost! this man does not have a sense of direction whatsoever!)!

the someone who found it?

Anastrannia Galendel, the youngest (at the time she was ~120, currently in the story she is 267) daughter of the people Jerry used to adventure with!

she did not know Jerry knew her parents. Jerry did not know she was the daughter of his old friends. it took like 4 months for that to be figured out.

now Ana has a talking sword who makes rude/annoying/absurd and occasionally helpful commentary! On Everything. he does not know how to shut up. should not have given the sword the ability to telepathically communicate with whoever is carrying him and/or speak aloud like a normal person. i really should not have done that.

but also its fun so whatever! its fun!

Some of his more funny commentaries from the first draft:

You and I are awfully small compared to this dragon. Could fit both of us in its mouth. At the same time. And swallow. No need to chew. It's enormous.

You know, this reminds me of the one fight with the cat. Where you almost died? Fun times.

Fire. Bad. Avoid fire- oh yes. Please throw me to the ground once more, I very much enjoy laying on dirt.

Oh. That hurt. Mind if you stop bashing my face into scales?

And his intro scene from draft 2 (current one):

“When did you get here?!?!” I shrugged. “About five minutes ago. Nice sword.” “Thank you!” said a new voice. It was my turn to whirl around, searching for a source. There wasn’t anyone else in the clearing, or in the edge of the trees. I resorted to holding onto a branch and leaning over the edge of the cliff to see if someone was hiding on the wall, despite not knowing how that could possibly be true. “Over here.” I spun towards the voice, and found myself looking at Anastrannia’s sword, which she had now fully unsheathed and laid on the ground. It took a few seconds to sort out. “Is your sword… talking?” “I have a name!” “Shut up, Jerry. Yes, Enna. He’s talking.” “Well that’s new.” “Its not, actually. Several hundred years old.”

[luckhound]

— best laid plans.

pairing.  dino/gender neutral reader

genre.  humour, fluff

request.  OHH for the dates gone wrong prompts, Dino and the crabs one?? slfndkdj THANK YOU FOR YOUR WONDERFUL WRITING!! —@what-the-fuck-khr​

description.  you’ve been stressed as of late, but your boyfriend comes up with a plan to fix that. because your boyfriend is dino cavallone, it doesn’t go as expected.

note.  so this has been collecting dust in my drafts for months now, but i finally got the inspiration to finish it and post it. hope that makes up for the wait :^)

Sometimes it’s easy to forget who Dino is. He’s a total dork, has a tendency to trip over both his words and his own two feet, and rarely takes himself seriously.

Then he does something that reminds you just how important and influential he is, like fly you on his jet to a private island he owns. All because you complained about how stressed you’ve been feeling lately once.

“I thought you could use a vacation,” he’d said when you expressed your shock, grinning widely. “It’ll be just the two of us!”

As suddenly as he’d sprung the idea, it was still sweet of him to plan it for you. So you had smiled back, his excitement infectious and sparking your own...

Which was when Romario cleared his throat and clarified that he and Dino’s subordinates would be accompanying you. Obviously, you tell yourself later. It’d be dangerous for him to travel alone, especially with a civilian like you, who can’t fight.

It can be easy to forget, but Dino is the Cavallone boss. He’s not just your boyfriend. You made your peace with that long ago, because you know he has his obligations, and there are many.

But he never lets you feel like an afterthought, or unimportant. That’s why you love him anyway.

Plus, it’s not too bad, all things considered. At least Dino can keep both his feet under him with his men with the two of you. You enjoy that privilege as you stroll along the beach, hand-in-hand with your boyfriend, inching close to the shoreline and jogging away once the waves reach you. His subordinates are nearby, but they’re enjoying themselves as well and far away enough that you have some semblance of privacy. You’ll take what you can get.

Dino squeezes your hand, prompting your attention. “How is everything so far?” he asks. “Are you feeling a bit better?”

You squeeze back. “I’m feeling much better. Thanks for bringing me here.”

He beams at your response. “Of course! I know when I’m feeling stressed, a change of pace helps me out. I thought it might do the same for you.”

This is more than a change of pace, in your opinion, but you understand the intention behind it. So you nod and swing your joined hands, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. The tranquility of the moment washes over you. Waves crash against the shore, seagulls cry out as they soar in the sky, and Dino breathes quietly beside you...

Then he yelps, and the tranquility is gone.

“Dino?” You turn to him, alarmed when you spot tears gathering in his eyes. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My toe!” he cries out, confusing you further.

When you look down, though, everything becomes clear.

Since you’re at the beach, both of you had long taken off your sandals to walk barefoot on the warm sand. Which left Dino’s feet vulnerable to pests, like the crab that has the skin of his big toe pinched between its claws.

“Oh!” you say, at a loss for words. The times you’ve frequented the beach, you’ve never had to deal with something like this before. “Uh! Why don’t you, um. Shake it off?” That should get rid of the crab, surely?

“R-Right!” He lifts his foot and shakes his leg, looking completely ridiculous. Worse, the crab just dangles from his toe, refusing to let go. He cries out again. “Ack! Now it hurts even more!”

You look around, perplexed, then realize Dino’s screams must have alerted his men. They might have a better idea of what to do. You glance over your shoulder.

Only to find them staring in your direction, not moving a muscle to help their boss, in hysterics. One of them even appears to be holding his phone up, recording.

...Okay, you should’ve expected that. And, seeing as your boyfriend isn’t in any real danger, it is kind of funny. You thought situations like this only happened in comedies. The corners of your mouth twitch, but you resist the urge to smile.

Unfortunately, Dino notices. “Hey! Don’t laugh. I’m in pain over here!”

“I’m not laughing!”

“But you want to! I can tell!”

“Don’t you have bigger things to worry about right now?”

“Yeah! And you’re not helping!” Dino looks down at his foot, grimacing. Then his eyes widen. “Oh, no. No.”

You follow his gaze. To your horror, you see, scuttling across the sand, a crab inching its way towards the two of you. But the crab is still hanging off Dino’s foot. Which means there is more than one.

You scan the ground, your thought proven correct. An army of crabs are advancing on you, their pincers held aloft and practically gleaming in the sunlight. You stumble backwards. Thankfully, they don’t follow after you. It’s as if they don’t even notice you’re there.

Because they’re too busy following Dino.

“What the...” He hops away once, then twice, but they only hurry to close the distance. “Where did all of these crabs come from? I didn’t even do anything to them!”

Whatever the reason, the crabs are gaining on him. One swipes at him with a pincer, but he manages to hop away before it succeeds in the attempt.

“Guys!” Dino calls out. To his men, you realize after a beat. “A little assistance, here?!”

Instead of springing into action, his subordinates cup their hands over their mouths and shout encouragements. Behind them, Romario reclines on a folding chair, sunglasses perched on his nose and completely at peace.

“You got this, boss!”

“We believe in you!”

“Keep at it! You’re almost safe!”

“Man, the others are gonna love this...”

Still hopping away, Dino yells over his shoulder, “At least throw me my whip, you assholes!”

As you watch, in disbelief at what you’re seeing, he hobbles down the beach, followed closely by the crustaceans. He’s still flailing his foot, hoping to dislodge the crab on his toe, to no avail.

You stare. Then you bend over in laughter, clutching at your stomach.

This isn’t what you were expecting when Dino proposed a romantic getaway to his (one of several) private island. But it worked. Stress is the last thing on your mind right now.

And it’s all thanks to your loving boyfriend. In a way.

[picturejasper20]

I'm going to make a response to a SU video made a few years ago by @robobuddies, who goes by "Red Van Buskirk" the video is called "The Steven universe rant." The video was uploaded in 8 Sep in 2017.

Keep the date in mind because is going to become important later.

I going to refer to Red Van Buskirk as "they/them" since they prefer these pronouns and "Red Van" for short.

And don't harass this person in social media! This is supossed to be a response. Nothing else. I'm saying this because i know how things work. So, don't bully them. OK?

I'm not going to make a rebuttal of every single tiny detail because the video is 40 minutes long and the creator of the video sometimes jumps from one point to another and loses focus on what they are talking about:

First they start the video with a Disclaimer: "I'm going to be harsh and hyperbolic for the sake of entertainment".

Now here's my problem: i get sometimes youtube critics want to play a "persona" but sometimes comes off more as an lazy excuse to avoid criticism. This has happened before with Cinema Sins many times. It's not exactly a very good way of starting your video, specially if you want to be considered a profesional or be taken seriously.

Like if i'm going to give my opinion about something, i do it, i don't say "It's just my persona", i want to honest with my mutuals and people who like my content.

They also mention how the SU fandom can't take criticism and sometimes consider everything a personal attack. While i agree this fandom can be a living nightmare, the reason of why we sometimes get so mad is because people who sometimes do these types of rants don't do their research about the show, the video gets millions of views and well..

Which goes to my next point:

-Red Van, you need to do your research.

A huge part of the video they talk about the animation behind the show and mention "Motorcity" as a good example of composition.

Here's the thing: They barely mention which programs the creators use to create these shows or the animation studios which is quite a problem if you are going to talk about animation for half of your video.

"Motorcity is animated with a combination of Flash, Maya and After Effects – with backgrounds and other elements created in Photoshop."

"Created by Chris Prynoski, Motorcity is produced by Robin Red Breast, Inc. (a subsidiary of Titmouse, Inc.) and Disney Television Animation."

Link (X)

Steven universe was animated by two korean studios: Summin and Rough Draft

Link (X)

The programs the crewniverse used to animate Steven universe Link: (X)

They mention how the animators of Steven universe were "lazy" for not making the scene of "Mr.Greg"- Is over, isn't it? More interesting..

Here's the thing.. they wanted to:

This was the original concept but they didn't have time to animate it into the show. They were time restraints to animate it.

Link that talks about the episode Mr.Greg and the animatic: (X)

Now this episode "Mr.Greg" came out in 2016, and Red Van's SU video rant was uploaded in September 2017. That's like an year to find that post.. so why didn't they search for it?

They complain about the writers forgeting about the powers of the characters.. So, i'm just going to leave this right here from a SU reddit AMA:

The writers kinda came up with some powers but they also had a list of what powers they could do.

Now to be fair to Red Van, this AMA was made in way after their video, so i can't blame them for not knowing this detail.

They also mention how the gems don't use their powers to catch Peridot: The issue with this argument is that the gems had no idea how Gem Homeworld technology had changed and Peridot had tons of tricks to get the upper hand. And the gems only fight Peridot two times in season 2 before they catch her in "Catch and Release". That's why they catch her quickly in "Catch and Release" they already know her tricks and catch her by surprise.

"Peridot is coming.And we don't know who or what she'll be coming with. She's a modern gem with modern gem technology that's bound to overpower us." -Garnet Political Power

They also complain about Amethyst not using her shapeshifting powers to catch Peridot.. but later in "Message received" Amethyst shapeshifts into a helicopter to stop Peridot and her robot.. why they don't mention this?

Amethyst also used her shapeshifting powers in other battles (Ocean gem, Steven vs Amethyst).. they brieftly mention this for a second but don't go into much detail in their video.

In one part of their video they talk about the writing..they fail to mention how the process works.

Here's is how it works:

"As some of you know, Steven Universe is a storyboard driven show, meaning a team of storyboard artists are given an outline off of which they write all of the dialogue and storyboard the episode.  The job of the outline, and my job, is to give them the basic framework for the episode - the story."

Link to Ben Levin post (X).

Here's is another one about Ian talking about the writing process: (X)

Now the Ben Levin post about writing is from 11 sep 2015. I think with 10-15 minutes you can find the post. And if i remember correctly it was even in the SU subreddit. And is from the episode "Lion 3"

They also mention Adventure time several times in their rant to compare it to Steven universe.

Now wasn't Adventure Time a storyboard driven show like Steven universe?

Well, yes.

"Each episode of Adventure Time takes about nine months to produce and begins in a writer’s room with series creator Ward, producers Adam Muto and Kent Osborne, and staff writer Jack Pendarvis. From that meeting, they generate a barebones, two-page outline. Those outlines are handed over to one of four storyboard teams who have two weeks to visually outline the episode. “They’re basically directing,” says Osborne. “They’re writing all the jokes, editing the outline, picking all the camera shots… what the episode is going to look like.”

Link

https://www.thedailybeast.com/this-is-how-an-episode-of-cartoon-networks-adventure-time-is-made#:~:text=Each%20episode%20of%20Adventure%20Time,barebones%2C%20two-page%20outline.&text=“They're%20basically%20directing%2C”%20says%20Osborne.

It's also worth of mentioning that Rebecca Sugar worked previously on Adventure time.. i think Red Van doesn't mention this detail in their video.

Rebecca Sugar was nominated for the episodes : "It Came from the Nightosphere" and "Simon and Marcy". She storyboarded " I Remember you" which has one of the most iconic moments in modern western animation. ( People who complain about Steven universe but like Adventure time rarely seem to mention this detail).

Link (X) (Episodes she storyboarded in Adventure time)

There is also one point they just start nitpicking and tearing down the show, which reminds me of Cinema sins, except is not as funny.

Red Van, what you are doing here in this part can be done with any other show and is a very easy thing to do. I could also make a 30 minute rant of MotorCity or tmnt 2012 nitpicking every tiny detail but it's not exactly good criticism.

They later complain about the Steven universe perspective..

I leave this here,is from that same SU AMA reddit i mentioned earlier in the post which explains the Steven's perspective.

Now, i didn't have a problem with the Steven only perspective. In many ways its what makes the story of SU work. We learn about the world as Steven learns. The more Steven grows, the more we learn things aren't as simple as they seemed to be.

Characters sometimes will hold information about X person from Steven, so he's forced to ask other characters about it.

It seems to be suggestive since i only actually started paying attention to it when people brought it up. Like, it wasn't such a big deal for me.

Now i could go on and on with this response but i would like to leave it here.

What do i think of this video? If i was a teacher and a student tried to show me a video like this for my class, i would probably ask the student to make it again. Not because it complains about Steven universe, is just is poorly organized in some parts and lacks proper research.

As someone who likes analyzing media is quite difficult for me to take this rant seriously. It has issues and is like those Cinema sins videos but isn't that funny.

And there's one more thing:

I found this youtube comment in which Red Van admitted that they should have done more research into the show production and animation. At least is good to know they are honest and say they made some mistakes in their video.

The problem is that.. well.. since their Steven universe rant many others have cited their work and their video has 1 million of views... even though it contain a few errors that the creator admitted.

I wouldn't call Red Van a bad person, they actually are nice. However.. Their SU video is a bit misguided and somewhat problematic. But is not the worst thing ever.

[sz-amare]

12. Muira and Berserk

A few days ago, I woke up to the disheartening news of Miura’s passing. Kentaro Miura passed away at the age of 54 on the 6th of May. If you don’t know who Miura is, he is the mangaka of Berserk, arguably the best manga of all time. I found myself in total disbelief at first. My jaw was wide open for several minutes when I heard the news.

It upsets me that I only saw mangakas as a source of my entertainment and not actual humans. Although I have a lot of respect for Miura as a fan of Berserk, I can tell I think of him as the author of Berserk than an actual individual who happened to make an amazing series.

However, I am ever so grateful to Miura for his work and effort. Even though I had other plans for my 12th post, in honor of Miura, I would like to post a story of how Berserk changed me to create a better book and forever changed the way I look at any anime/manga. I will make a follow-up post in the next few days on the beauty of Berserk and its absolute brilliance. This post will not contain any spoilers.

Funnily enough, Berserk is the first manga I have ever read. I really wanted to get into manga, but I knew I would feel exhausted if I tried. To me, anime is like being spoon-fed, while reading manga is like feeding yourself. So, to motivate myself, I thought, why not start with a highly acclaimed manga to hopefully convince myself to get into reading. I would have read One Piece from the start, but it was still fresh in my mind. But one manga that I noticed that was praised by many was Berserk. But not just as an anime/manga, but also for having the best protagonist, best antagonist, excellent world-building, etc. It was either in everyone’s top ten, or they never read it. Considering Berserk didn’t have the greatest anime adaptations, I thought Berserk would be a great place to start. And so I did.

I was right about reading manga being mentally taxing. After a long day of school, I could only read a couple chapters of Berserk before needing a nap or moving on. Even if my mind was fresh, I couldn’t read it for more than two hours at a time. But after finishing Berserk, I realized something peculiar: there was no way I could call Berserk a masterpiece. Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoyed it, but it seemed like mindless fun with some slightly deep elements to it. An A-tier manga at best. The protagonist was an S-tier protagonist for sure, but I just couldn’t understand why he was in many people’s top ten lists. I didn’t think the antagonist was all that special either. I could see some parallels and contrast between the two, but nothing that great.

This had me confused for quite some time. How could so many people call Berserk a masterpiece and one of the most well-written pieces of fiction ever created. Keep in mind; I am saying ‘well written’ and not ‘the best’ or anything like that. Many people may say MHA is the best anime of all time, but they say that because it has many hype moments, and it brings out their emotions. But you don’t see many who say MHA is the best-written anime.

Anyways, the other thing I found funny about Berserk is that it didn’t have any noticeable flaws. I can usually notice any weaknesses in most anime, but that was difficult for me when it came to Berserk. Regardless, I was so perplexed as to why Berserk was held to such high regard. I almost decided to write it off as people being overhyped by an edgy/dark fantasy manga, like the Tokyo Ghoul anime.

Maybe a day after giving up on Berserk, I watched a video by The Masked Man (A.K.A. The Asura), who was reviewing One Piece (I like drowning myself with One Piece content when I’m bored). I highly respect The Masked Man’s opinions, and I enjoy the majority of his reviews/analysis and his top ten manga lists. But he said something quite shocking. He stated that “One Piece isn’t a deep story, but that isn’t what makes it great in the first place.” Blasphemy! What was so ironic to me was that he stated many of the deep points and themes of the story, but he said it wasn’t deep. He then proceeded to give examples of stories with deep elements, such as Monster, Vagabond, Oyasumi Pun Pun, and, well, Berserk.

I haven’t read those first three, but I felt like something was wrong at this point. I couldn’t tell if he was oblivious, if he was mixing some other term up like “mature themed,” or if there was something I couldn’t see. I realized that if it was the last possibility, there could potentially be a whole new world of story writing that I have never seen. Even if that chance was small, I wanted nothing more than to learn what it was.

So I made a YouTube playlist titled ‘Depth?’ and added many analyses on Berserk and other anime/manga The Masked Man considered as “deep.” I also made a list of 25 manga and 25 anime that were widely considered masterpieces or classics. This includes Monster, Oyasumi Pun Pun, Vagabond, Gurren Lagan, Made in Abyss, Magi, Fate Zero, Degrey Man, Great Teacher Onizuka, and so on. I numbered each anime and manga 1 through 50 and used a number randomizer to decide what I would read/watch.

(Panel from Monster) 

After a month of tons of research on what the hell “depth” was and reading/watching tons of manga and anime, I finally found out why Berserk was so great and what I think The Masked Man meant about depth. From my understanding, I believe he meant ‘complexity.’ A manga like Berserk is VERY complex on many levels. I had to listen/read dozens of hours’ worth of analysis just to start understanding why Berserk was so highly acclaimed. Each analysis helped me understand an element or two on Berserk. Sometimes more. It’s a bit hard to describe all this without getting into spoiler territory, so I will elaborate more in the next post.

It would be an understatement to say a whole new world of story-writing was open to me after discovering this. After looking at what I drafted for my story, it felt like a joke. Berserk has motivated me to push myself further and to create an even better story. My original plan was to start writing my first book this month, but after seeing the intricate, complex, and well-thought-out story that Miura was able to create, I felt like I had to reach the same heights myself. Ever since then, Berserk has made it higher on my top ten list for being such a well-crafted story and because of how it inspired me.

(In honor of Miura, everyone is posting their favorite panels of Berserk. This here is mine.)

Thank you Miura. Thank you for inspiring me and changing the lives of many others. Thank you for all the effort and time you have put into a beloved story. Thank you Miura.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Hell is For Children: Animorphs as Children’s Lit

[Guest post from Cates!]

So a couple of months ago Bug asked me to write a post about why Animorphs is Middle Grade/Children’s Fiction, not Young Adult. Since she asked, I’ve read several wonderful posts from other people questioning or explaining what the difference is between Middle Grade and Young Adult, where Animorphs fits, and why it matters. Here’s my two cents as a children’s literature scholar.

To start, Animorphs’ 20,000-30,000 word count per book is a big hint it’s not YA fiction. Obviously, a book with a low word count is not automatically a children’s book, and a book with a high word count is not automatically a book for adults. But if Animorphs was aimed at teens, Applegate would likely have been expected to make the books longer. While there are a lot of great YA novels that are as short as or shorter than your average Animorphs book (check out BookRiot’s list of 100 YA novels under 250 pages,) most YA series, and especially fantasy or scifi YA series, are expected to top 100,000 words. (The three books in the Diviners series by Libba Bray have a total wordcount of 520,000 words; Laini Taylor’s Daughter of Smoke and Bone trilogy tops 400,000 words, for example.)

Animorphs’ word count isn’t enough on its own to exclude the series from YA classification, but Animorphs’ short word count also fits the trend of children’s—not YA—series fiction in the 1990s. In order to understand this trend, and why it produced books specifically for children, not teens, we need to jump back in time to WWII. Because so many American men were drafted into the military, women took over jobs that had been almost exclusively done by men, like mechanics, sales, electricians, etc. When WWII ended, thousands of men returned home, but women didn’t leave the workforce. Realizing they had an excess of young men and not enough jobs, the US government created the GI Bill, allowing soldiers to attend college for free or at a steeply reduced cost, thus stemming the influx of workers and giving the economy and industry room to grow.

At the same time, families were having children (and those children were surviving) at an unprecedented rate. Thanks to the GI Bill, college was no longer something reserved for wealthy white men, but something available to the middle and even lower class. A college education offered social and economic mobility, and the Baby Boomers, children of the GI Bill recipients, became the first generation to grow up with the idea that college was something that could and should be pursued by all.

Then, the Baby Boomers began having children in the late 1970s through early 1990s, meaning a large chunk of those children (including Bug and I) were in elementary school in mid 1990s to early 2000s. Thanks to their parents, a higher percentage of American adults than ever before had attended college. Thanks to advancements in women’s medicine, psychology, sociology, and education, among other fields, people understood as never before the importance of instilling a love of reading in children at a young age. The huge middle class was willing to invest lots of time and money in their children’s educations, because at this point not having a college education was seen as a barrier to success.

I’m sure you can see where this is going. (Kidding).

Children’s publishing exploded in the 1990s because children—or, more accurately, their parents—were seen as a huge, untapped market. Previously, children’s publishing didn’t receive as much money or attention because, the logic went, children did not have money and therefore couldn’t buy books. But then the publishing industry realized that there were literally millions of parents willing to spend money on their children’s education, and publishers like Scholastic, Dutton, Dial, Penguin, Random House, and others rushed to take advantage of this new customer demographic.

Of the ten books featured on this Scholastic bookfair poster from 2000, seven are series fiction.

Serialized fiction—ie, stories that took place over the course of several books about the same characters and/or in the same setting—was the perfect way for publishing houses to capitalize on this new market. And hoo boy was it successful. From 1993 to 1995, Goosebumps books were being sold at a rate of approximately 4 million books a month. That means roughly 130,000 books were sold every day.

Here’s a few names to bring you back: Bailey School Kids, The Magic Treehouse, Babysitter’s Club, Junie B. Jones, Encyclopedia Brown, Cam Jansen, Horrible Harry, Secrets of Droon, The Magic Attic Club, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Bunnicula, The Boxcar Children, The American Girls, Amelia’s Notebook, Dear America, Wayside School, Choose Your Own Adventure…we could keep going for days. All of those series have two things in common: one, they were either published between 1985 and 2005 and/or experienced a huge resurgence in the 90s, and two, they’re all middle grade novels. Some are aimed at younger children, like Junie B. Jones and The Magic Treehouse, and some are aimed at older children, like the Dear America series and A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The point is, Animorphs is so clearly a product of its time (and not just because of the Hansen Brothers references,) it slots perfectly into the trend of series fiction for children. If you want to claim Animorphs is YA, you also need to claim all of the series I just listed above.

Now, let’s talk about the main argument I see in favor Animorphs being YA: the dark content.

This is my personal wheelhouse. I’m planning on someday doing my PhD dissertation on trauma, violence, war, and trauma recovery in Middle Grade—not YA—fiction. I always find it funny when people use descriptors like cute, sweet, innocent, silly, light, and simple to describe children’s books. While there are certainly plenty of children’s books that are one or more of those things, there are also dozens that are the polar opposite—dark, complex, serious, violent, and deep. I once read a review of The Golden Compass which said “it’s not like other children’s books with a clear cut good guy and bad guy and a simple message.” I don’t know how many children’s books the author of the article had read, but I’m guessing not a lot. Let’s just do a blunt reality check with a few of my favorites—including some picture books which are typically for an even younger audience than Middle Grade. Spoilers for all of the books I’m about to mention.

Baseball Saved Us by Ken Mochizuki This book follows a little boy who is sent to a Japanese interment camp during WWII. He and his family deal with abuse, starvation, and sickness. Suggested reading age*? Kindergarten and up.

*(For this and all subsequent books I used reviews from Kirkus, the Horn Book, and School Library Journal to determine suggested reading age.)

Check out this picture of Shorty playing baseball while an armed soldier watches him from a guard tower. Isn’t it cute, sweet, and innocent?

Pink and Say by Patricia Polacco Pink and Say are 15-year-old boys serving as Union Soldiers during the Civil War. Confederate Soldiers kill Pink’s mother, Pink and Say become POWs, and Pink is hanged because he is African American. Suggested reading age? First grade and up.

Fox by Margaret Wild This book starts grim and just gets grimmer. Dog and Magpie have been burned in a wildfire. Dog loses an eye, Magpie a wing. Magpie rides on Dog’s head—she is his eyes, he is her wings. Fox comes and convinces Magpie to leave Dog and come with him. There are definite sexual undertones. The book ends with the possibility that Dog and Magpie will be reunited, but no certainty. Suggested reading age? Six and up.

[The text says “He stops, scarcely panting./ There is silence between them/ Neither moves, neither speaks./ Then Fox shakes Magpie off his back/ as he would a flea,/ and pads away./ He turns and looks at Magpie, and he says,/ ‘Now you and Dog will know what it is like/ to be truly alone.’/ Then he is gone./ In the stillness, Magpie hears a faraway scream./ She cannot tell if it is a scream of triumph/ or despair.”]

Tell me this isn’t a total punch in the gut.

The Rabbits by Shaun Tan The introduction of rabbits to Australia is used as an allegory for European colonization and the casual destruction of the Aboriginals’ lives and cultures. Suggested reading age? Six and up.

The Scarlet Stockings Spy by Trinka Hakes Noble A girl spies on the British during the Revolutionary War while her brother fights. He’s killed and there’s actually a description of her finding the “bloodstained hole” in his coat where the bullet struck him. How cute and silly! Suggested reading age? Second grade and up.

Meet Addy: An American Girl by Connie Rose Porter I think this works as a nice comparison to Animorphs because it’s another long-running, popular series aimed at kids just starting to read chapter books. Among other incidents, there’s a graphic description of Addy watching her brother get whipped by an overseer and a passage where another overseer forces Addy to eat worms. I actually give American Girls a lot of points for not shying away from the uglier parts of history. They don’t always get it right (*cough* Kaya *cough*) but those books are more complex than I think most people realize. Suggested reading age? Second grade and up.

My Teacher Flunked the Planet by Bruce Coville From the sight of a child starving to death to homeless children freezing in the streets, Coville certainly doesn’t avoid the darker side of human nature. Pretty sure most adults only noticed the funny green alien on the cover. Suggested reading age? Fourth grade and up.

“That was the day we crept, invisible, into a prison where men and women were being tortured for disagreeing with their government. What had already been done to those people was so ugly I cannot bring myself to describe it, even though the memory of it remains like a scar burned into my brain with a hot iron.

“Even worse was the moment when it was about to start again. When I saw what the uniformed man was going to do to the woman strapped to the table, I pressed myself against the wall and closed my eyes. But even with my hands clamped over my ears I couldn’t shut out her scream.”

Inside Out and Back Again by Thanhha Lai The Vietnam War, migrants drowning in the ocean, refugee camps, racism…this book is a bit like Animorphs in that it’s got a surprisingly dry sense of humor even as awful events take place. Suggested reading age? Fourth grade and up.

The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Patterson A pretty harsh look at the realities of America’s foster care system as told by a girl who could give Rachel Berenson a run for her money. It’s not afraid to show that parents aren’t automatically good people. Suggested reading age? Third grade and up.

Stepping on the Cracks and Wait Til Helen Comes by Mary Downing Hahn If WWII, bullying, dead siblings, draft dodging, and parental abuse are too light and fluffy for you, you can always read about a child consumed with survivor’s guilt because she started the fire that killed her mother. Suggested reading age? Fifth grade and up.

“‘How do you think Jimmy would feel if he knew his own sister was helping a deserter while he lay dying in Belgium?’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ I said, stung by the unfairness of her question. ‘Stuart was sick, he needed me! I wish Jimmy had been down there in the woods, too! Then he’d be alive, not dead!’

Mother slapped me then, hard as she could, right in the face. ‘Never say anything like that again!’ she cried. ‘Never!’”

I could go on (and on and on and on) about trauma narratives for children, but suffice to say while I think Animorphs is probably the most brilliant one I’ve ever read, it’s far from the only one. Kids’ books can be dark, which is good, because if we only tell stories about white, able-bodied children living in big houses with two loving parents then we’re excluding the majority of real children’s lived experiences from our narratives.

There’s one more point I’d like to address: without sounding overly accusatory, I think a lot of the compulsion to consider Animorphs YA instead of children’s fiction is born of the adult bias against children. I’ve mentioned this before on the podcast, but Children’s Literature scholar Maria Nikolajeva created the term aetonormativity to describe society’s tendency to value the adult over the child. Like I discussed above, we have this idea that children’s books are somehow sweet and innocent, while YA fiction is darker and grittier because it addresses so-called ‘adult’ topics like sex, drugs, suicide, violence, and death.

As I hope I’ve established above, just because a book addresses these topics that doesn’t automatically mean it’s for teens. Books about heavy subjects can, are, and should be written for children. I think most of us are fans of Animorphs because it’s a series that sticks with us long after we close the neon-cloud covers. It’s a series that strongly disputes the notion of a clear right and wrong, and doesn’t shy away from the atrocities of war. And it was written for children. It was sold to children. It was read by children.

Some of us adults are just cool enough to read children’s books that treat child readers with the respect they deserve.

— Cates

[lupusexspiravite]

My Health Journey and what Helped.

Hello, My Name is Wolf aka Lupus Ex Spiravite and i have a Story to share.

 8 Years ago, Just before I graduated college, Had a Fiancee/ Submissive, Was a Pro CoD Gamer and everything in the world felt Right. Then one day after a rather long and stresfull day, i woke up with a severe Headache that went on for 2 and a half weeks (Not days, weeks.) I thought i just had overworked myself, Come to find out 8 years later that it was the started point of when my health Deteriated and my safe and comfy world disappeared. It wasnt a meer headache this turned out to be my first of 3 total mini-strokes. I went in and they ER confirmed that during the last 2 weeks of my associates degree i had had a mini-stroke and was lucky that i was even alive. They ran tests and eventualy all they could do was tell me to get bed rest and do as much of nothing as i could.

So i did, and barely managed to graduate with a 3.45 gpa In Computer Drafting and Design. I was happy and i thought it was over so i went into going for my bachelors of Game Design. 2 months into the degree my body started to really move on its own, I had always had small jerking movements in random places of my body but this was different, It first started heavily in my hands making it extremely hard to do almost anything. So i went ot the doctors they gave me some muscle relaxers and sent me on my way. i was good for about 7-8 months before the movements went up from my arms into my chest and made it extremely hard to breath. The doctors didnt think anything of it and just gave me more pain releavers and sent me on my way untill i went to a hospital i personally trusted and they tested me and found i had Late onset Severe Tourettes Syndrome. Meaning that i had had tourettes my whole life but only recently did it begin to truly act up.

 I was given meddations and the twitches as i call them died down a lot. I was able to get back to my schooling and try to get good grades. so i did. Thought nothing of it until one morning i woke up with excruiciating pain in my chest. the type of pain and discomfort you never want to feal. toke me 3 hours before i told my fiancee to drive to the er. When we got there i ended up passing out 4 timee before i was brought ot the back and given again muscle relaxers which calmed it down. That was thrst of almost 900 chest pain attacks i had during the next 13 months During whcih my tics Just came back with force.

It toke those doctors 13 months to figure out i had an extremely rare condition which causes the muscles in my chest wall to contract at over 100 contractions a second, literally mimicking a heart attack without having a heart attack.  During this time I was diagnosed with 6 other Health Conditions, which eventually lead to me dropping out of getting my bachelors degree. So i toke a break friom school Opened my own computer repair company and went on my way to well living. Then i had a head ache this time not as bad but enough to cause me to black out for a total of 3 hours. when i woke up i was in the hospital, i was toke that the mini-stroke had left a scar of sorts which was gonna cause me to have black out head aches for the rest of my life. During this time i was working on gettingm my license and as soon as the DMV heard my health history they black listed me from driving. I let it roll off thinking everything will be ok. another 8 months goes by and My fiancee/Sub left because she couldnt handle me having these health issues. My buisness Died, and i was forced to go live with my sperm donor for a while.

 Which allowed me to focus on getting my health straightened out but that lasted 6 motnhs before i was kicked out of my sperm donors house because i wasnt christian. For 5 and half months i Literally spent the days and nights on the streats with nothing but me and the wilderness to contend with sincle it was a backwoods town. I eventually got a call from a friend and went to live with her for a while. She eneded up becoming my Sub because we had been in talks about it before i originally left to go stay with my sperm donor. i was happy for 2 years. I eneded up finiding that Marijuana was a good way to calm all my health issues down and because i had a Sub again My Phyiscal and Mental Health was extremely good. Till i hit another road block.

A second Min-Stroke, Followed by severe food poisioning a month later and 4 monhs after that a emergency Gall Bladder Removal, which left me weak and vulnerable yet again, and what happens my Submissive again Tells me She cant deal with my health issues and im forced to again leave. This time coming to another state where my sister helped me get my health situated ( During this time i had my third mini-stroke) before i get told the worst news in the world, I had stge 2 colarectal Cancer which needed an imidiate Surgery Removal. I was Diagnosed on May 9th, 2019, when into surgery 2 months later. Spend 3 months recovering before a secondary surgery was done and recovered from that after another 4 months.  This left me with mutiple Scars on the inside and a non-alcholic Fatty Liver with barely working kidneys. As of June 8th 2020 i was told i had beaten my cancer. I was happy but it left me with extra health issues.

 Mentally during the whole time i was and still am struggled with depression, Anxiety, Over active Stress, PTSD and More whcih was not being taken care of because to the doctors it wasnt bad enough. During this 8 year period i put myself in a Mental Hospital twice to try to deal with everything going on. Didnt really help. Then I started Teaching BDSM after all i had spent 5 years prior to this. First Studying for the first year, then Learning and participating in the BDSM Lifestlye for the remaining 4 years after i hit 18. BDSM Became the only way i could truly ground myself. When i was doing a scene it was like my entire health issues, both physically and mentally just Disappeared and my Sole focus was on what was going on in the Scene.

 Over all these years, Since i hit 18 and then when i hit 22 and became a Certified BDSM Master, BDSM Became the one Rock that even in the Darkest days could bring me out of it. BDSM Allowed me a Healthy Way to Cope while teaching and Enjoying something I  Loved. This is the power of BDSM that No one talks about. That no one expects but it is there. It pulls you into a grounding vortex that doesnt let you go for as long as you need so you can Enjoy. Have Fun, Safely and healthily become Grounded. For me Its like Lighting that electifies and subdoes all my health issues. Once i learned when i was 18 that it did that I never once looked back. and to BDSM I say Sincerely Thank you and i hope that During the rest of my Hopefully long Life i can within the BDSM Lifestyle.

The reason i diecided to make this was because, There has been a lot of people who Dont understand that the BDSM Lifestyle is Something more to me than just a relationship. It is literally a way for me to Keep myself going through the Crappiest of days. The funny part of all this is I know I am not the Only one in whicht the BDSM Lifestyle helps in this way.

Thank you for Reading the ramblings of a an old Souls post.

[smokeyloki]

Fiddlesticks! - A Cherik Ficlet (Concept Credit: @pippa-writes)

   Again, I would like to thank @pippa-writes for providing the concept for this ficlet.  Three drafts and a lot of frustration turned out this little one-shot, and I sincerely hope you all enjoy it.  I’m much better at writing than I am at drawing, at any rate.

@pippa-writes

@ladycavalier

@peppermintdoodle (since I saw a post somewhere saying that you wanted to read more Cherik stuff...)

Also a disclaimer that I’m not the best at fluff.  I’m not terrible at it, but it’s definitely not my forte.

          The trouble started less than a month ago, during one of their music lessons.  Erik been playing a simple arrangement of “Ave Maria” as a warm-up, and Christine Daae’s voice danced along with the piano keys. All was going well until the fifteenth measure, when a poorly-placed note snuck into a chord and brought the whole score to a halt.  He sat there, fingers frozen to the keyboard, eyes fixed on the offending composition.

         “Fiddlesticks,” Erik had muttered.

         He later chalked up that particular word to Christine’s presence, and he was grateful that he had not said something indecent.  He was certainly capable of it, if his earlier years of parroting the vulgarities of stagehands and opera-goers were any indication (just ask Gerard Carriere).  More recently, he’d also taken to dabbling in Swedish, German, and Latin literature, and could employ crude phrases in a variety of languages.  But to speak in such a crass manner in front of a lady, especially one such as Mlle. Daae…that would be no fit behavior for a gentleman!

         This would have been the end of it if Erik hadn’t forgotten about the misplaced note and brought the same score to their next lesson.  It all began innocently enough, just as before, and once again the squalling dissonance reduced both student and teacher to unexpected silence. The lull was broken, finally, by a single utterance from a disgruntled Maestro:

         “Fiddlesticks.”

         This time, he could have sworn he saw a small smile pass over Christine’s countenance when she heard him.

         “Ave Maria” was re-worked in a single afternoon.  He could replace an unnecessary or incorrect note…but “fiddlesticks” could not be so easily gotten rid of.  It was nuisance enough when he caught himself saying it throughout the day, but a close proximity to Christine Daae made it worse.  Even the slightest inconvenience in her presence seemed to warrant the silly phrase, and Christine’s poor attempts to hide her amusement when he said it became less and less resolute.

         And yet, how could explain to her the reason for “fiddlesticks”?  He couldn’t expect her to understand how he felt the need to tip-toe around her, using only gentle movements, gentle voice, gentle words. He couldn’t even explain it to himself! So when “fiddlesticks” slipped out when he fumbled with his flute, he’d rather have her tittering behind him than have to engage in a conversation so mortifying that it would send him to an early grave.

         He would speak to Carriere on the matter, except that it was so trivial.  That, and the resident Opera Manager didn’t know about Erik’s nightly excursions with Christine Daae.  And even if he did, he would no doubt make some vague statement regarding how nice it was that Erik could make the young lady laugh.  Erik had already considered this point, but there was a fine line between giving Christine some merriment and him becoming the source of merriment.  

         Still, it was either confront Christine on the matter or subject himself to her giggles. He chose the latter.

         There were days, even in the life of a Phantom, that went better than others.

         If anyone had seen the elusive Opera Ghost earlier that day, stalking the secret passageways of the Opera Populaire with a stack of music under one arm and a glower fixed behind the smiling gape of a mouth on what he had dubbed his “night sky” mask – deep navy in color and flecked all over with bits of gold paint, with a grotesque grin carved underneath a thin, hooked nosepiece – that person could have easily concluded that today was not one of the “better days”.

         His morning routine had passed without hitch, but an early afternoon excursion to his private box was interrupted by a certain Mme. Giry.  Once a humble box-keeper, someone of little consequence to Erik, she had become a prominent member of the Opera House, mainly due to the small fact that she knew the secret of the Opera Ghost.  Not only did she know him, but she had a tendency of being forward, blunt, and demanding; a harsh personality combination of which Erik was not exempt.  Today, her complaint concerned his “pranks” on the dancers.  The feather in her cap quivered as she talked up to him in stage whispers about his childish behavior:

         “And how do you expect, Monsieur, for ‘your’ dancers to perform well if they’re scared out of their wits?  Or hiding in a closet for fear of glimpsing the Phantom?”

         Erik would have brushed her aside and gone about his business if it had been any other member of the opera company.  However, it was Mme. Giry, and this alone was enough to trap him for the entire length of her outburst.  Only once she had exhausted herself of all words and insulting phrases did she drop him a stiff curtsey and flounce off.  Her feathery hat bounced along with each step.

         The accusatory speech lasted roughly twenty minutes, so Erik was well out-of-sorts by the time he reached Box 5.  Upon seating himself in the shadows of his box, though, he came to a sad realization that La Carlotta was directing the company as they swept and scrubbed the main stage.  Her presence was wholly unnecessary, and anyone else would have thought the same. After all, there wasn’t a spotlight for her hog, nor a recital for her to butcher.  Yet she was there, dressed in some ridiculous drapery and far too many feathers, waving her hands and shouting orders at anything that moved. Erik endured her grating voice for a full fifteen minutes before finally being chased below, where he spent a good deal of the afternoon sulking in the hallways.

         There was a moment of brief respite in his house on the lake, where he worked for several hours on a small composition.  A few rough patches were smoothed out, and he was just getting himself immersed in his creative process when a clock in an adjoining room chimed a reminder that lessons with Christine Daae was approaching.

         So, with his rounds ruined, La Carlotta’s screeches still ringing in his ears, and his composition abruptly interrupted, there was more than ample explanation for the dark cloud which hovered over Erik’s head as he entered the small piano room with a bundle of sheet music tucked under one arm. Christine was already there, busying herself with some of the stretches shown her by Erik in past lessons.  She greeted her Maestro with a smile and cheery “hello!”  His response, in contrast, was curt and through pinched lips.

         However, once seated and the music spread out on the piano, he relaxed, and soon Christine’s voice soared through the air as he coaxed a gentle melody from the ebony keys.  

         All would have been well if they hadn’t hit a rut.

         There was a section in Christine’s new piece which had caused her some trouble in their past lesson; Erik had been in a better mood, then, and they’d set it aside to review later.  That course of action, though, had one glaring flaw, being that “later” was “now”, and every hiccup of Mlle. Daae pushed Erik’s aggravation further.  

         No bit of advice, no changing of the tempo, nothing Erik tried seemed to help. Christine would continue to trip up on a run of the aria, and they would back-peddle and try again, only to produce the same results.  Each time, Erik’s glower would deepen, and his brows drew together underneath the mask – at least, it seemed to Christine that the space around his eyes scrunched together in such a way as to suggest the furrowing of her Maestro’s brows – and his muttered grumblings grew louder and more pronounced until she could hear them plainly.

         “Fiddlesticks!”

         The word had ingrained itself in Erik’s vernacular; he didn’t seem aware of its being used.  The funny phrase leaped from his lips, loaded with annoyance and frustration.  And every time he said it, despite his ever-darkening expression and the vehement anger with which he punctuated the word, Christine couldn’t help a faint smile.  Even as she tripped over the troublesome section of her piece, thus adding to her Maestro’s sour mood, she found it difficult to concentrate on her notes.

         “No!”  Erik suddenly exclaimed.  He brought his hands down, hard, on the keys, creating a discordant “bang” that mingled with the echo of his shout.

         “It’s all wrong,” he continued.  “You’re singing it wrong, and no matter how many times I’ve gone over it, you refuse to get it right!”

         Christine was frozen to the ground, mouth still open in mid-run.  Erik’s outburst, so uncharacteristic of his usual genteel demeanor, had taken her quite by surprise.  Not to mention that he had chosen to direct his frustration towards herself!  Now the room had become far too quiet, and she discovered a need to busy herself with some distraction; a clutter of instruments had been moved to this room earlier, so she left her Maestro to stew over his piano music while she fiddled with a trombone.

         “It’s-” he grumbled, leaving his sentence unfinished.  

         Christine glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  She had a sudden impulse, a daring notion that lodged in her throat.  A second of tense silence passed, a moment which Christine spent assessing her Maestro’s stony countenance and considering whether her idea would drive him further into frustration.

         “It’s fiddlesticks,” she whispered, loud enough to be heard across the room.

         Erik turned his head in her direction.

         “It’s fiddlesticks,” Christine said again.  This time, it was accompanied by a slight coloring of her cheeks and a brief smile.

         The dark cloud which hung over Erik’s head lifted, but then his lip stuck out and he glowered at the piano.  It took Christine a moment to realize that her Maestro was pouting.  It was such a funny notion to her, watching a full-grown man in a mask throwing a fit like a petulant child, that she giggled.  Then the giggle grew stronger and longer.

         “It’s fiddlesticks!” she shrieked, clapping her hands together.

         Erik watched the hysterics unfold.  His pride was sorely bruised, but he couldn’t help being befuddled at the same time.

         “What’s so funny?” he demanded in what he hoped was a strict voice.

         It had no effect; in fact, it seemed only to fuel Christine’s laughter.  She was wiping tears from her eyes.

         “It’s…just…so…fiddlesticks!” she gasped.

         “You’ve made that point quite clear,” Erik responded dryly.  He closed the piano case and stood.  Christine ran around the piano to grab hold of his arm. When she did, it was Erik who found himself unable to move.

         “I’m…sorry…” she tried to say.  Her Maestro attempted a glare, but his lower lip trembled, and there was no longer any real glint of anger in his eyes.  Then she hiccupped – she couldn’t help herself – and that broke her Maestro.  His frown twisted itself into a smile, and he chuckled, ducking his head and turning aside. Christine released her hold on him, now safely assured that her Maestro wasn’t going to steal out of the room in a dramatic fit.  As for Erik, he returned to the piano and began gathering his music.  He had a suspicion that further progress that evening was an impossible venture.

         Behind him, Christine kept repeating “fiddlesticks”.  Each time it was accompanied by a peal of laughter, which, as he listened, began to take on the same musical qualities of her speech and song.  Perhaps her giggling wasn’t as awful as what he first supposed.

         “I think we’re done for the night,” Erik announced.  Christine’s response was another hiccup, muffled behind her hand.

         “So soon?” she asked shakily.  

         Erik nodded, but showed her his own now-smiling face so she wouldn’t feel that she was the cause of the abrupt end.  “You must work on that aria, Mademoiselle.  I’ll bring you a copy tomorrow night; then you can go over it yourself after our lessons.” He paused.  “And I suppose I must be working on my vocabulary.”

         “You are rather predictable sometimes,” Christine murmured.  She drew nearer; he could feel her proximity and felt a stifling need to brush past her and give himself more breathing space.  Tucking the music under one arm, he turned his attention to the instruments stacked against the wall.

         “Whoever did this ought to be sacked,” he said to no one in particular.  He stooped to pick up a trombone as Christine Daae passed him.

         “Good night, Maestro,” she whispered.  She touched his hand with her own, though whether it was intentional could not be said. Through his glove, the warmth of her little hand seeped into his fingers and raced up his arm, filling his whole self. An indescribable sensation struck him like a bolt of lightning; it was beyond any adjective, anything “fantastic” or “wondrous”; “magical”, “enchanted”, or “beautiful”.  These and more, certainly…so he chose to be wordless and watch her go in silence.

         Then the trombone slipped through listless fingers and bounced off his left foot before crashing to the ground.

         The string of words which followed, some bizarre, all colorful and rather distasteful in nature, made him glad indeed of a music room which had been fully emptied of sweet, innocent sopranos.  

[aldmerii-blog]

3, 7, and 18 for best girl. my wife and queen.

PERISH i love u, [prompt list]

03. — lending a coat in the cold

This was the sort of miserable, soggy, just-below-freezing snow that clung to his shoes and threatened constantly to seep through and soak his socks. It reminded him constantly that this was a stupid idea. Turn back now, all ye who enter here, lest ye be afflicted with cold feet and post-rejection melancholy! It didn’t help that he was so utterly unfamiliar with this part of town -- he knew his way well enough to Shaelle’s house (manor? estate?) but less so in the dark. The wet wind had extinguished about half the streetlamps, though the snow did its best to compensate and reflect what light there was. 

He came to a crossroad and thought he should have remembered which way to go, but the blanket of white made everything look the same. For a moment, he considered the possibility of just picking a direction and walking, and then retracing his prints in the snow whenever it became apparent that he’d chosen wrong; his salvation came in the form of another silhouette materializing out of the thick-falling flakes down the way. 

The woman hurried towards him but didn’t notice him, too concerned with holding her dress up around her calves and keeping her head down to protect it from cold wind and snow. It was from about twenty feet that he realized she didn’t have a coat and from ten that he realized he knew her. 

He grabbed her arm as she made to pass, not thinking to verbally hail her first, and Shaelle flinched away, like she was ready to fight. Her face was red, but more than that, she’d been crying. 

“What are you doing out here?” Alphonse asked, and then he saw the tears and the red-rimmed eyes and he feared the very worst. Both hands went to her arms, immediately looking for bruises or rips in her dress or anything else to indicate something like a mugging. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said, voice thick and slow. “I just want to go home.”

Alphonse continued running his hands up her arms, cold and icy pale and wet with melted snow, and he searched her face for any sign of fear. No, just misery. “Where’s your coat?”“I left it at the party. Couldn’t go back for it.” 

She did look dressed for a party -- dress a deep ruby red, lace neckline hem clasping her delicate shoulders. Her hair must have been done nicely before being soaked in the snow. “Alright,” he said. No date tonight. Definitely no nothing tonight. He quickly, deftly undid the buttons on his own thick woolen coat and shrugged it off, then draped it over her shoulders.“Let’s get you home.”

07. — letter(s)

an excerpt, letter from Lady Shaelle Dasyra to Wilham Meruth:You are surely asking yourself what I could have possibly sent such a large package for. Several reasons. The first is that I have a lot of material for you, and the second is that a crate is less likely to get lost in transit. I should rightfully be very cross if sailors lost a bloody crate. Also, don’t you feel quite self-important getting such a big delivery? Are your colleagues not clamoring to see what you’ve received? I’ll let you make up anything you want to tell them and attach my name to it. Don’t make it too nefarious; I have a reputation, you know. 

To the contents. First and most importantly, a draft of a paper I should like to publish. I normally have Mother look over these things but she is woefully uneducated in any areas regarding elementalism and therefore woefully ill-equipped to critique. And so I hand the dagger to you and ask that you do not send it back to me still living. In return for your time, what I hope to be no less than a year’s supply of your awful, awful tea and an equal amount of honey. I know it’s expensive up north, seeing as serys root doesn’t even grow there. Drink it wisely. I am more than happy to send more. 

The crystals and foci are from Mother. Don’t think she’s being sentimental; they’re quite old and she would like an excuse to buy new ones. But I think they should be useful, and if not, do sell them. From the western canyons; good quality, rarely attuned, and particularly uncommon. 

(etc.)

But I would entreat you to restrict your orbit, Ser Meruth. You circle so far from home, and what will you do if I ask you to return, say, perhaps, to serve as an honored guest at my wedding? It would be months before you arrived, years even. You might arrive just in time to see the naming of my firstborn! 

Not that he has proposed. And I won’t supply you with sordid details just yet, not while this affair is in its infancy. Infancy -- ha! I do not have children on the brain and I would scratch this whole paragraph out if I could. 

Come home soon, at any rate. I do miss you and you’re much less funny in print. 

With all my affection and then some,

Lady Shaelle Alihanna Amoniel Erunae Dasyra, Master Wizard of the Luniac, Heir to the Third Advisory to the Crown of Serin Ilyan

18. — eyes

The midwife had shut him out hours ago, telling him in a fairly un-gentle manner that he’d be in the way. Alphonse hadn’t exactly enjoyed being in the room -- seeing his wife cry, seeing her sweaty and red-faced, having her cut half-moon marks into any inch of skin her hands could reach. But being stuck in the hall had been so much worse. Sequestered away where he couldn’t see with his own eyes that she was alright, couldn’t offer any gentle words or a hand to squeeze the circulation out of. He could just ... hear it. A back-and-forth of rehearsed encouragement and cries of pain. 

It was dark and had been for hours when a new participant entered that hellish conversation -- “Just a bit more -- one more --!” and a ragged, clench-jawed shout, and then, and then, cutting through noise he had almost grown accustomed to, tiny, infantile cries. 

Anxiety, over the hours, had turned his legs to jelly. When he scrambled to his feet, he wobbled, just a bit. They left him out there for what felt like another six hours but was probably, in reality, only ten minutes. 

Someone had lit lamps in the room as dusk had turned to night. When last he’d passed that threshold, the room had been brightly lit through the western windows, all harsh shadows and burning orange light. Not so now -- rather dim and intimate, somehow tender. Maybe it was just seeing Shaelle again, after the torturous eternity of the evening, reclined against half a dozen pillows and a tiny head of wispy dark hair peaking out from beneath the blanket covering her chest. 

She looked up to where he appeared in the dark doorway and the raw affection in her face near sent him swooning. One hand slipped from under the cover and she held it out to him in a silent invitation to approach, and he tripped over himself to comply, to take it in both hands and raise it to his lips and press a kiss squarely on each finger. 

“Come here, come sit,” she said, voice more than a little hoarse.

Alphonse first perched on the edge, afraid that she was in a fragile state and would be easily hurt if he got too close, but she pulled on his hand and he slid closer, leaned against those pillows, chin on her bare shoulder. 

Shaelle shifted the cover away from the baby’s face -- their baby’s face -- like she was uncovering some otherworldly wonder to an awed audience. In essence, she was. She pulled her hand from his grip and used it to cup their son’s head as she slid him up further her chest, and bright eyes peered out from under her hand, soothed by mother’s heartbeat in this strange new world.

[aikainkauna]

Fic mehm

This was shortish, so might as well post it here. Snurched from the lovely @trelobita .

-What is your total word count on AO3?

-1 421 808. That little?!? I thought I would've gone past the 2 million mark a long time ago. What with Connie whipping me on the way he does.

-How often do you write?

-When the right mood/inspiration comes, and when I'm healthy enough (both mentally and physically) to be in writing condition. Which is not often enough; I hate it when I do want to write, but brain fog and/or physical fatigue mean I can't keep my brain going or my body upright. That's mostly for fiction, though. I can type bloggity waffle like this, and could just about proofread a sex toy review today despite it being a brainfog/tireded day. The deadline for the review was today, so I did it under duress and must've left something out or fucked up some grammar as consequence. Finnish conjugations are hell when your memory is shot to pieces; English is much easier to write because you don't have to remember how to conjugate a word to denote it's in the past tense for a plural with a conditional towards place A, signifying inclusion. No, I'm not joking. Sauvallanikinkos? ("Also with my wand, too, maybe?")

-Do you have a routine for writing?

-My body isn't good with routines and schedules, so no. The only pattern I have is to try and get 1000 words done at least and then to email myself the latest draft after I've finished writing.

-What are your favourite tropes?

-Have you got a month? (This question foolishly asked about your favourite kinks and tropes and pairing types all in the same question, BTW, so I split it up into three questions, because... c'mon.)

Tropes:

-Flawed characters who are still somehow understandable and appealing; not the typical Asshole Protagonist or antihero thing so much but more of an... well, I guess it's just good characterisation I prefer, in the end. Not that kind of squickily obvious macho power fantasy sold as "grittiness" just for the sake of being an asshole (funnily enough, that kind of crap usually comes from the kinds of people who have too much privilege in the first place). So, yeah, good characterisation that's still got some shreds of humanity left is my jam.

-Telepathic lovers. Exactly because it hurts so much when the person who's supposed to love you the most and to understand you the best doesn't, and vice versa. So that's a big RL trauma and squick I prefer to fix, because in fic, I CAN.

-That's a major one, actually. Fix-its not so much on a plot level but on a human level. Especially sexism/gender bullshit-breaking fixes. Fix-its get a bad rap, but that kind of thing, just like the bashing of romance and fanfic, sets off my "ah, this wouldn't be the devaluing of something considered empathic and female/feminine again, now would it?" alarms.

-This overlaps with the pairing thingy, but the Depraved Bisexual is my favourite character type to write. All the Connies, Tennant!Peter Vincent, Captain Renault, Zainab, Laura, etc... YES.

-Male character gives up some masculine privilege he doesn't fancy anyway for the sake of love and empathy/female character gives up stereotypical female things she doesn't fancy anyway in order to be herself and free herself as much as she can from society's chains. Give Torsten all the pwetty dwezzez he wants and for Falcon!Yassamin to remain childfree, dammit!

-Man cuddles and medicates woman during her period and actually empathises/feels how awful it is. As I was saying about the fix-its...

-Funny banter, even if I can't write it as hilariously as I'd want to.

Favourite kinks?

-Poetic prose and Romanticism. It's word porn or nothing, baby.

-Historical detail, accuracy preferred but depends on how the story wants to go (the Barmakids DON'T get butchered horribly by Harun al-Rashid in 803, TYVM).

-Anal! That's almost too obvious to mention.

-Androgynous, genderbending, sex-bending, femme men. Why do you think Connie is the love of my life?

-Lots of arousal-drippage.

-Some way for the bottom to see themselves being banged. Mirrors or telepathy or magic or video camera projecting it before their eyes or whatever. Unfff.

-Orgasms. Always orgasms to complete satisfaction. Orgasm denying or writing it badly or so vaguely that characters/readers can't get any catharsis/release for the arousal is a huge squick. That's a hard limit. Fuck characters who tease and don't let someone get off.

-Psychological/emotional depth. That's such a no-brainer it shouldn't even be necessary to mention (although in these days, it seems to be, because apparently wanting that is now a repressed sexual minority instead of normal human, especially female, sexuality. Oh, fuck off). Yeah, these memes do bring out the pet peeves about internalised misogyny, don't they? Especially the sort that manifests itself in sputter-inducing ignorance. Even my medieval characters and their somewhat dated and essentialist ideas of sex and gender are ahead of Tumblr in the very basics, FFS.

-BDSM that's based very much on extreme care and healing, the sort that uses the intense sexual activities/sensory overload as a kind of way to heal the sub's anxieties and to help the sub let go, achieve catharsis and release. And for the top's love to be the guiding, ravishing, then healing and comforting force that contains the sub and the sub's anxieties in a fiercely loving and protective way and absolutely, so that not a drop spills over. So, yep, BDSM as therapy is my kink in both RL and in fic. Not so much a desire to humiliate or to be humiliated, but on the contrary, to value and to honour the other half. The top finds strength and validation through being the healer, through their power being able to do something good (instead of tearing someone down and having power over them through that). Yes, I know that's not everyone's idea of BDSM, but it's mine and that's what you'll get if it's a healthy relationship I'm trying to portray. (The Barrings and Zainab and Fadl don't have the healthiest ideas of sex, anyhow; Jaffar/Pwinzezz usually do.)

And I'm leaving out so many. You only have to look at my Ao3 pages to see the recurring themes:p

Favourite pairing types?

-Experienced Depraved Bisexual Character/Less Experienced and/or Repressed Character, GIMMIE. Fucking love that shit.

-Similar: Older, More Experienced Man/Younger, Horny Woman.

-Horny couple, usually M/F, seduce someone into a threesome. The Rosesverse and Devilry are full of this, so might as well admit it.

-Do you have a favourite fic of yours?

-I do have a soft spot for the first two fics in the Falconverse. As if you didn't all know that already! They do have some noticeable flaws here and there, especially the first one (I still insist that weird lube choice was HIS and not mine; I do know better and yelled at him at the time), but they still contain my deepest and most profound writing both erotically (and I mean that in the widest sense of the word, encompassing all things Love) and spiritually and character-wise. Defy Not The Stars also turned out better than I expected, considering I had never attempted so much plot and a traditional historical romance novel before. But I guess that Roses, what with its length, has allowed me to explore more aspects of the characters and their lives than anything else I've written. And of course, considering Devilry is my most-read saga ever, I do have a soft spot for that pile-up of a car crash. If only for the sheer intensity of the ride; I was just thinking yesterday how it really was aghori sadhana done through writing. Meditating in a graveyard is for wimps; try spending months in Torsten Barring's fragrant boypussy.

-Your fic with the most kudos?

To no one's surprise, Because The World Belongs To The Devil, at 234 kudos.

-Anything you don’t like about your writing?

-I suck at pacing sometimes. The sex scenes tend to run overlong if I write them in several sessions instead of just one go. It's not that the characters want to try different sex acts and shag more than once during a night, but more that the tension is spread out unevenly ("JFC, why did they change position again? I want them to just fucking come already, damnit!") This is obviously a result of how many things *I* see in my mind's eye during a wank; it's always more of a clipshow of different sex acts and pairings and orientations than one straightforward scenario. I'll be more mindful of that in the future and have been watching out for it in the past few fics already; I don't think the shags in The Guardians of Samarkand overran, for example.

-And sometimes my kinks get too obvious and repetitive for me, too, the way any porn gets tedious and repetitive. But on the other hand, I know very well that fanfic *is* about us imposing our kinks on our darlings, no matter how much we may go on about our dedication to characterisation and such. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: what's key is to get away with your kinks *but* in such a way that they can also engage the reader and that they become interesting and enjoyable not just for you, but for the readers, too. And you need good characterisation for that, and it's a really delicate balance to juggle your kinks and believable characterisation.

-Something you *do* like about your writing?

-I can write immersively and deeply and engage all the senses (sight, touch, scent...) in rich detail, as well as go deeply and profoundly into the emotions. And write some fucking hot porn ;) Those are the things I've had praise for, at least. Maybe my spiritual bits aren't as relatable or something, because people hardly ever remark on those (interestingly, my mum is the only one to have taken up those bits! But I skim over the sex scenes when I read the fics to her, so she only gets the gen). Or then it's the fact that most of the time it's Thief of Bagdad fic, and thus in an Islamic context, and most readers aren't familiar enough with, say, Sufism, to feel like they're qualified to comment without making arses out of themselves. But of course I like my spiritual bits; I'm an ex-religions major!

This had a taggity thing at the end, but I hate doing those because it always puts pressure on them even if you say they don't have to (come, now. The pressure is there, the moment you mention someone by name). I don't own the meme or you, so, as always: do what thou wilt.

[brookeap3]

Office Memos (Getting Caught)

A/N: Prompt #76 "We have to be quick” for @oqpromptparty. I really love how this turned out and I hope you all find it just as amusing. Set in the Post-its and Paperclips verse.

{ ffn } { ao3 }

“Good afternoon, lovely,” Robin chimes from the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his signature smirk adorning his face.

Glancing up from where she’s scribbling notes, sketching out and brainstorming ideas for a print ad campaign she’s working on, Regina smiles, pleased. But then, seeing Robin usually has that effect on her, and he’s always a welcome distraction late in the day when energy is waning.

“Hello,” she greets. “How can I help you today, Mr. Locksley?” Her tone is all flirtatious sass, egged on when Robin groans quietly and slips inside, discreetly shutting the door behind him. She knows what it does to him when she calls him that, particularly here, in the office. Gets them both all hot and bothered, and she shouldn’t tease him so, except, well, she needs some form of entertainment to power through the next hour and it’s so much fun to torment him.

Robin crosses the length of her office in a few long strides, coming to stand on the opposite side of her desk, leaning both palms on the wooden surface and ducking his head down so he’s hovering closer to her, breath ghosting across her lips, that pine scent drifting her way as he says, “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could help with a consultation on something. Check your email, beautiful.”

Shifting her focus away from the stray thought that his stubble has grown out a bit more this week, making him look even sexier, she asks, “Is this for the Belfrey account?” They’ve been working together on that one for a month now, Gold no longer pitting them against each other when they work so much better with one another. Regina’s eyes flicker up to Robin’s clear blue ones, amusement twinkling in them as she chuckles and turns to her computer, clicking a few buttons to bring up her email.

Sure enough, there’s one from Robin. Sent ten minutes ago. A calendar request with nothing but a string of dots in the subject line followed by a few question marks. Side-eyeing him curiously, noting the mischievous grin as he watches her, Regina shakes her head and double clicks to open it. As she reads the body of the message, her initial reaction is pure and utter mirth, laughter bubbling out of her throat as she scans over the words again.

Fuck your fiancé

He’s scheduled them a quickie during working hours, set for precisely four o’clock. A quick glance down to the corner of her screen shows 4:03 on the clock, and she bites her lower lip and looks back to Robin.

Lifting one brow, Regina looks up at him with simultaneous interest and bemusement. “Really? Here? Now? Robin, it’s the middle of the afternoon.”

“So?” he counters, grinning widely and wickedly as he rounds the desk and reaches out a hand to pull Regina to her feet, until her body is flush against his. One hand lifts to run his fingers through her hair while the other traces patterns at the small of her back.

It’s not as if they’ve never taken a bit of personal time during the work day before, memories of several delicious soirées in the supply closet coming to mind. And he wants her, has been wound up all day thinking about her in this outfit. She knows what those tight pencil skirts and plunging necklines do to him. Watching her dress this morning, and just the glimpse he’d caught of her in the kitchen on his way into a meeting earlier, hadn’t been enough, and he’s been chained to his desk since.  

It’s a busy time for them both, working on major accounts, taking on new ones and they’ve done nothing more than collapse in the evenings after checking off the basics of dinner and bath time and reading until Roland conks out for the better part of a week now.

There’s been no time for just the two of them. He misses her. Being with her, and Robin doesn’t see why they shouldn’t indulge themselves a bit.

And he’s free now (for today at least), has just submitted the final draft of a campaign to Gold and is ready to celebrate in the best way he can think of. Plus, thanks to Ashley, he knows Regina’s nothing left on her calendar for the day, no meetings or appointments scheduled. There’s a bit of a thrill to the idea as well, taking her here, in her office, on her desk. Robin’s hand drops to skim along her hip now, thumb stroking as the other inches downward toward her ass, cupping it in his palm with a knowing little wiggle of his brows.

They shouldn’t. It’s entirely unprofessional. And she needs to get these sketches finished.

But, god, she wants him. Misses him just as much as he’s missed her. It’s been over a week since the last time they’ve had sex and while reasonably she knows that’s not all that long, it does nothing to dissipate the dull throbbing between her thighs at the mere idea.

“I want to take you on this desk, finger you until you’re wet and just on the edge and then make you cry out while you come around my cock,” he continues, licking his bottom lip distractingly. “What do you say, milady?” Robin questions, “You up for it?” giving her ass cheek a squeeze for good measure.

She hesitates another few seconds, considering. But, well, who can resist an offer like that?

Fuck. Why the hell not?

“Fine, but we have to be quick,” Regina orders, voice already breathless with anticipation and desire as she presses herself closer to him, tugging him backward by the tie around his neck as she sits down on the edge of her desk.

Robin doesn’t need to be told twice. He dives in for a frantic kiss, teeth dragging along her bottom lip as he groans against her mouth. Something he’s waited all day to be able to indulge in. His fingers make quick work of the top three buttons of her blouse while Regina deepens the kiss. Her nails scratch bluntly at the base of his neck, gripping onto the short hair there.

Then Robin pulls away, moving to suck hot, open-mouthed kisses to the underside of her ear, along her jawline and down to her neck where Regina’s pulse thuds beneath his lips. His tongue does a lovely swirl against her skin, in the hollow of her throat, and she can’t stop the low moan that escapes as she lets her head fall back in delight. “Mmmm, yes. Feels so good, babe.”

Thoroughly focused on his task, Robin smiles, stubble tickling her skin as the corners of his mouth tip up and he repeats the action one more time before he’s moving lower, licking over the swells of her breasts. She’s wearing a lacey bright red bra and the hint of it beneath her navy blouse is a tantalizing sight.

Her hands are busy as well, roaming the expanse of Robin’s back and shoulders, down along his biceps and up to his head to hold him in place. Her legs wrap around his waist, and the hard press of his erection to her center when she tightens them around him even more, one heel slipping off her foot to fall with a thunk to the floor, has that well of need demanding more. Greedy for every sensation he’s capable of creating inside her.

Regina’s fingers fumble for the buckle of Robin’s belt as he leans her further back on her desk, crushing papers and sending her pen rolling across the surface to slip over the edge. His mouth covers hers again, and Regina sweeps her tongue into his mouth, moaning softly as the taste of him fills her, one of his hands cupping her breast while the other edges the hem of her skirt a little higher.

One of his hands slips between her thighs, inching upward and upward toward where she’s already wet for him, where she needs his touch the most. Regina’s just managed to slide the zipper of his slacks down, knuckles brushing over the hard bulge of his cock through his boxer briefs when the distinctive click of her doorknob sounds.

“Hey, sister, what the hell is—” Leroy’s voice echoes through the room, coming to an abrupt halt when he catches sight of them laid out on her desk in such a compromising position.

Shit. They’d forgotten to lock the door.

“Jesus! My eyes!” he exclaims with a grunt, quickly covering them as a scowl covers his face and the two of them frantically try to right themselves, pulling zippers and shirts closed as Robin’s hand retreats from beneath her skirt. “Don’t you two have any damn dignity? How the fuck am I supposed to unsee that? Keep it in your pants till working hours are over for Christ sake.”

He slams her office door with a bang, muttering something about indecency under his breath, and Regina squeezes her eyes shut in mortification. “I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye ever again.” Robin merely chuckles, shoulders shaking as he tucks his face into her neck. “It’s not funny, Robin!” she scolds, smacking him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, lifting his head to meet her eyes, though he doesn’t look apologetic in the least, “but it’s a little funny.” Robin steps between her legs again, cupping her cheek in his palm and adding, “At least it wasn’t Gold. Or Mary.”

Oh god. Okay, alright, that would have been even more embarrassing, so, yes, it could have been worse, she supposes. She’ll take Leroy catching them over either of those options. “I guess you’re right,” Regina concedes, lifting a single brow when Robin’s hands begin to caress along her side again, over her thighs. “What are you doing?”

Robin’s thumb circles her hip bone, dipping his index finger between the band of her skirt and her blouse. It takes a minute before he answers, hands brushing lightly over her and stirring her senses up again, “I don’t believe we were finished, love.”

Regina’s jaw slackens as she stares at that damn adorable smirk on Robin’s face. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am quite serious,” Robin counters, dipping his mouth to kiss along her jaw up to her ear where he swirls his tongue over her lobe, sucking on it gently and making her shiver. “Despite the… interruption, I still want you. Just like this.” He draws back then, looking down at her and the adorable flush to her skin, the way her shirt gaps open still to reveal teasing glimpses of her lingerie.

Need tightens sharply in his belly.

She’s the picture of temptation. Seductive and desirable without even trying, and Robin finds her damn near irresistible, location and circumstances be damned. “You’re gorgeous,” he tells her reverently, adoringly, “And I love you,” as he moves in for a kiss to sway her.

How is it that this man can distract her so easily?

Regina hums into it, palm grasping at his cheek while heat slowly spreads through her limbs, heating her blood with renewed vigor. Clearly, she’s lost her mind because she’s actually considering it. Or maybe she’s just so needy, has missed feeling him like this so much she doesn’t care.

Her resolve wavers. Damn him. She’s still wet, still wants to feel him inside her, to be taken the way he’d promised her. When Robin nips at her collarbone in that way that she loves, Regina gasps and relents.

“Go lock the damn door this time.”

[bimbinis]

Some highlights of my journey through the Willow/Tara tag on ao3:

Way more fucking fanfics than I imagined and STILL UPDATING

Related, way more fanfics actually focused on the ship at hand than I’m used to after 2 years of having Jaspis as my otp

So much fucking fluff omg

VAMPIRE!WILLOW/TARA THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT

Way more subtle sexual innuendos than straight-up porn-without-plot, contrary to my expectations

a 43..chapter..long...pornfic. Why just. Why. Why do you need so many words

something tagged as Dawn/Tara/Willow I need eye cleansing

also Oz/Tara/Willow which is not. As bad but still

many many things that were written over 10 years ago and are being transferred from fanfiction.net and other equally archaic sites

a plot-relevant-genderswap fic that was surprisingly funny and well written

its angst sequel that was obviously not nearly as funny

Edit: this post has been in my drafts for several several months but here have it

[hellssecretary-blog1]

Your obedient servant, asshole

File and King Dice duke it out like adults they are.

----

File picked up the small note tuckered between papers she collected on her table.

"Dear Folder,These were past due yesterday. If I found another more sloppy work I would have to talk to Boss, count yourself lucky I haven't done so. Consider this as show of my good will.

Best regards Your obedient servant Dice"

She crushed it in her hand, fully knowing these papers weren't nowhere in her vicinity whole week. That slimy sleazy cube. --

Dice stared at note Wheezy delivered to him. He could see retreating blue vest on other side of the room.

"Dearest Ki... Dice,

should I remind you, that if you want work done, you have to deliver it to the one who should do it? Your demands were met with satisfaction non the less. Also I would recommend buying more whiskey as my data shows spike in consumption. Just polite reminder.

Best regards Your obedient servant File"

He glared at the offending piece of paper and then turned to barman to talk about the whiskey consumption. -- Small paper plane landed before File as she was sitting at bar, talking with bartender and filling her employee information, that needed to be updated.

"Dear Folder,

no need to remind me on my duties, unlike some paper head I know. But I would like to remind you, that you have your work and I have mine. Don't try to take on too much, or should I remind you what happened the last time? That was quite amusing to see.

Best regards Your obedient servant KING Dice."

Only small twitch showed her rising irritation, before she returned to her previous task. Maybe her questions were bit more snappy than before, maybe not. Bartender just tried to hide his smile. -- Dice pulled out his handkerchief and small paper note fell from his pocket. When he picked it up, only his years of dealing with people saved him from swearing out loud.

"Dearest Dice <3,

I wasn't aware you know more paper headed people than me. Should I be jealous? Or should I draft new working contract for them, listing all their duties as you seem to be concerned by their lack of diligence. As for taking on too much work, should I remind you I was 25 and managed to last whole month, before completely shutting down from exhaustion. And I was finishing my academical degree on top. I'm sure it must have been hilarious to witness it. But should I remind you who came begging to take back my work afterwards? Even though I was still recovering from my sickness?

Best regards Your obedient servant secretary Folder File."

He stared at the mocking heart behind his name, wondering if punching her would be considered bad taste. He put it away, smiled at the guest he was scamming and pretended nothing happened. -- File fumed as she discovered paper flower at her table, everybody knew she hated when notes were handled to her folded in any shape or form.

"Dear Folder,

it's amazing how much you care for somebody unknown to you. Yet my concerns were aimed at you and you alone. Seems like your contract needs revision. Have to admit, you shutting down right in middle of meeting with Boss and faceplanting right in to fiery pit was best thing that happened in several years. It saddens me that I wasn't able to catch in on film. As for me begging you to take back your job, that was order from Boss. Don't read too much in to it, but given how much I know you, that is impossible. So enjoy your disillusions.

Best regards Your obedient servant Manager King Dice."

Folding it back in to flower shape, File set it on floor gently, before she crushed it with her feet. It felt so good imagining Dice's hand instead of the innocent paper. -- Dice looked up from his own paperwork, as the hellish secretary walked in, rather impressive stack of papers in her arms. He just shuddered at the amount that she most likely is going to dump on him. Instead she just put small piece of paper in front of him, turned on her heel and left without single word.

"Dearest Dice,

I assure you my contract doesn't need revision, update or anything else to be done to it. It's updated automatically since it was made by myself after negotiation with Boss all those years ago. Thank you for your concern, they were horribly misplaced though.Shame, truly a shame that you couldn't catch my shameful fall, yet I still have pictures of you in that lovely maid outfit Devil forced on you, due to some misfortune that managed to befall on you. If I remember correctly it was because some patrons managed to set several tables on fire before you could apprehend them. Wonder how could they get such fire power to do so. We should never know.

Best regards, Your obedient servant Devil's secretary Folder File."

He reread it several times. Did she indirectly admitted it was her who helped to set Casino on fire when he was watching. Was she that petty?

Squinting at the paper he noticed small arrow. Turned the paper to see PS. "PS: Don't read in to it too much. I was with Boss at the incriminating time. Love, File."

He torn the paper in to pieces. -- File was enjoying rare meal and humming to herself as she was reading book while forking down rice with some sort of sauce. Her tranquility was interrupted when Dice showed up, slammed something down and stormed away.

"Dear Folder,

so nice to know your contract is only in your head. That picture is going to meet swift end, or so I swear you will find your latest writing creation posted all over the Inkwell isles. Hopeful you know what I mean, it was rather funny read, given you don't have any imagination. Who knew that stoic old maid File likes fantasy novels?

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's manager King Dice."

She stared at it and felt color darken her cheeks. That scoundrel! He found out her stash of stupid ideas, that needed to be taken out for her to be able to focus on anything else beside them. The note ended as bookmark. -- Later that same day Dice was having nice smoke outside, when File marched past him, leaving small paper flutter down in her wake for Dice to pick it up.

"Dearest Dice,

how long did it take for you to come up with that pun? Or did somebody else help you with it? It seems more elaborate than your normal quips. I really want to talk to the person who helped you with it.As for my writing, hope you got copies, since paper that was used for its creation came from my head. You really should come up with better hiding place. I'm going to have fun with burning it.

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's hellish secretary Folder File.

PS: Left something for you to read in meantime."

When King Dice looked in his hiding place in unused piano, he found children's picture book about colors. -- File was just about to have a lunch when she noticed there was only piece of paper on her plate.

"Dear Folder,

I might come to you are a surprise but it was me who came up with that pun. But what comes to me as surprise is that you know what pun is and noticed one. Bravo, maybe your sense of humor was not amongs the causalities of your poisoning attempt.Shame, but what I read will never leave me. It was enlightening to see you know how o use magic of great proportions.

Best regards Your obedient servant Devil's charming manager King Dice."

Now the secretary was hungry and angry. Dice was about to get it. -- File stomped to Dice, wordlessly glaring at him over his desk, before she slid piece paper over to him and left his office.

"Dearest and beloved Ego Dice,

there is one thing to question my intelligence, social skills and even fashion. I know I'm average looking at best. Shut in and bad at talking to people. But when you mess with my food and leave me hungry for rest of the day, that is where I draw the line. There was only few things I was looking forward to eat and you took that away. Hope you will appreciate how big those pictures of you are.

Simply die Your obedient servant hungry Devil's hellish secretary Folder File."

Dice smirked to himself. And then it dawned on him. She had pictures of him? What kind of... he stopped when he heard laughter from Casino and briskly walked out. Patrons had rather large pictures of him in various embarrassing situations, outfits and in File's clothes, when he and her were tasked by Boss to do each others job for a week. In each others clothes. Worst was all those pictures were taken out of context, none was given, so everybody thought it was willingly taken.

That was low and blow to his pride. It would rook some time before he collected all pictures, only to discover she went all out and spread them over Inkwell as well. -- File was finally able to hunt down some food, enjoying the nibble when King Dice stormed over to her, slamming his hand down, snatching her granola bar and stormed away. She was stunned. On note he left on the table was written only few things.

"Dear Ego trip File,

that was low, even for you. From now on, you can buy your own food.

Best Regards Your obedient servant pissed Devil's charming manager King Dice."

When she peaked in kitchen cooks just shook their heads and shooed her out. She didn't have any other option than to go shopping. And talk to people while still hungry as entire Hell. -- They were both sitting before Devil on monthly meeting. File to record the meeting, Devil an Dice doing all the talking. But File was distracted by her hunger and Dice was still trying to live down the humiliation from all those pictures.

Both were glaring at each other, bile rising in their mouths at the mere presence of the other. It didn't take long for File to pull paper from her head and slip it to Dice, as Devil turned away from them, pulling out Deal from cabinet behind him.

"King Ego,

thanks to you I'm banned from every shop on Inkwell. Without money and food.

Go die Your obedient servant mad hungry Devil's hellish secretary Folder File"

Dice glared at her, before smirking. He tore the paper with shrug, he could care less about her struggles.

In retaliation File pulled another paper from her head, this one with dark smirk and put it on Devil's desk. It was clear it was a picture of Dice in King's regalia, sitting on Devils throne chair. Surely something that would make their boss angry.

"That's not fair, File." Dice hissed as he tried to snatch the picture away, but the secretary kept it pinned to the desk with her fingers. Both trying to not to make any ruckus, so they wouldn't alert Devil, who was taking his sweet time to find the Deal, he wanted to discuss.

If both were paying attention, they would notice that Devil was already watching them with huge grin on his face.

"All is fair when you play with my food, Dice." File hissed back with venom. "You are overly dramatic. You could take some from pantry!" Dice leaned closer, his fingers still tugging at the offending picture.

"I would, if somebody didn't put lock on it month prior and didn't have only key to it, dick." Snapping back, File too leaned closer to be hear over her growling stomach.

"Well I wouldn't put lock on it, if somebody didn't steal food from it. As you know, your numbers told us that!" Dice was furious, She was blaming him from something so idiotic.

"That still didn't change the thin, there is only one key!" She glared as hunger pain shoot though her body. Her grip was failing.

"Cry me a river. You bought this on yourself."

"You started this childish pass it note!"

"You continued!"

"Because I had no words how stupid it was!"

"And showing everybody my embarrassing photos was smart? File you are..."

"I dare you to finish that statement." Before Dice could finish, he had wooden sword in his face, with orange eyed File fuming and glaring at him.

"Stupid beyond belief." Dice himself took out his cards, ready to defend himself.

Both adults were ready to tear each other apart when laughter interrupted their escalating argument. Devil was having best day in long time and laughed at expense of his employees.

"Ya both stupid. Sit down and let wrap this up. As much as I enjoy your pissed squabbles and scuffles you are working. Finish it in your free time." He ordered.

Dice and File sat down, still hatefully glaring at each other. -- The meeting was wrapped quickly. The secretary and Manager disappeared quickly after it. Next day they showed with poorly hidden black eyes and bruises. File even had cracked glasses.

Both refused to talk about, talk to each other and it took almost a month before their anger simmered down enough to silently work with each other again.

Much to amusement of everybody around. unless you counted Mr Wheezy who was the one who was passing messages between the two.

Devil decided he needed to mess with his two employees more often as he shuffled through pictures of them two duking it out.