#what can i say. i love dumb horror i love monster of the week.

[thedevotionaltour]

when i think about it this was probably an extremely foundational to work i would eventually make show. SICK TO THINK ABOUT BECAUSE SOMEHOW ALL MY YEARS ON EARTH I don't think I realized this once. Or probably did when I was younger but lost the thought as time went on. Oh this is sick.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ LOVE AND MERCY !

summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)

pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader

contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+

You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.

Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.

The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.

That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind. 

“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”

“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?

“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

But he knows what you really mean.

[smallraindrops-blog]

I Know A Place (just for you and me)

Part 5

WMFTD!Y/N X Hypnos

Word count: 7.3

Warnings: Fluff, heavy angst, implied sex, death, AUs out of the wazoo, no beta.

Notes: 

I was going to hold off on posting this but with how long it's been since I posted anything I made, I decided to push this one out a little earlier. Thanks everyone for their patience and I hope y'all enjoy this!

also everyone go tell @jun-yng thanks for their big brain idea of ‘How to train your dragon’ AU, it wouldn’t exist without them. ( also look at their pretty art and pet the screen as you mutter like a feral person)

All parts can be found on the Masterlist

~

Fighting Evil by Moonlight (Magical girls au)

Hypnos wanted it to be noted in the records that she wanted nothing to do with any of this. 

Like she was going to hire a handsome lawyer who would nod with compassion as she told him everything and yell ‘objection!’. He would do it for her honor, then he would confess to falling madly in love with her the moment she stepped into his high rise office. 

She had been more happy to stay home with her clay mask and her softest pj on while she reread ‘The Surrender of Aphrodite’ for the millionth time. 

Unlike Zagreus who had seen the shiny dumb egg fall out of the night skies and went chasing after it. 

”Duck!” Zagreus yelled to the team, her dark hair fanned behind her as she twisted out of the way of the queen monster’ glimmering beam, causing her black skirt to lift up.

Hypnos landed on the damp, cold ground of the park, cursing as the disgusting mud touched her bare thighs. Her - stupid, too short, too ruffled - ruby red skirt hid nothing as she rolled to get out of the way of another beam.

Once this dumb thing was sent back to the underworld or wherever they went to, Hypnos was going to treat herself to a double cheeseburger with some fries and a good crying session in a very hot shower.

“We need to kill these things and fast!” Melinoë called out. Her swift form was a blur of orange as she swung her weapon, taking one of the freaky and smaller monsters out.  

“Like you don’t say? I thought we were going to invite them over a sleepover!” Hypnos snapped between chatting teeth. 

Hypnos took the chance to get back on her two feet, wobbly on the high heels and flipping her long curls over her shoulder. In a desperate attempt to summon her own weapon, she waved a hand in front of her chest.

Her impractical red flower brooch began glowing from its place in the middle of her giant bow but no weapons formed. Again.

Instead she coaxed her own magic forward, pale and misty. So unlike the vibrant colors of the other princesses, Hypnos thought sourly. 

A moment later, red flowers bloomed from the mist in her palm.

While everyone else got cool weapons and flashy attacks, Hypnos just had these dumb red flowers. However if she tossed enough in her foe’s face, they went down for a nap time. 

That little fact she discovered the first time in pure panic when Zagreus found that egg and a slime monster tried to eat them. 

One of the monsters rushed toward her, the eyes in the skull glowing an ugly yellow, its mouth a gaping black maw and Hypnos readied the flowers in a tight fist. 

Only to realize in horror that two more were charging from both sides.

Hypnos froze, her breath caught in her chest as she tried to work out what to do. She wasn’t a fighter- she wanted to go home- they had only been magical girls for two weeks-

Just as the monsters were about to jump her, their fangs sharp in the moonlight, Hypnos felt something heavy wrapped around her waist, yanking her up against a solid form as they leaped away from the oncoming monsters.

The monsters slammed into each other, so hard that they vanished. 

Hypnos blinked, dizzy as she realized that she was unharmed, her hands grabbing at the heavy arm around her waist. Then she saw the fluttering cloak in the breeze, matching the scarlet of her ridiculous outfit, and the golden shine of armor. 

A gleaming spear moved in front of her, another barrier of protection.

”Protect the princesses!” Her knight in shining armor roared to the other arriving knights, each one swiftfully taking out the monster far more faster than any of the princesses did.

Zagreus and Meilnoe weren’t going to be happy about the Knights coming to the rescue once again but Hypnos couldn’t find it in herself to be that upset. She slumped against the knight with a heavy sigh. 

She parted her lips to thank her knight.

Only to get dragged away and shoved into a bush. She winced in pain at the sharp jabs of the leaves.

”Hey- what is the-” Hypnos went quiet as the gloved finger pointed at her. The knight’s face was hidden by the golden helmet and shadows. But Hypnos still felt the intensity of their eyes on her.

“Stay here. I will fetch you when it is safe.” The knight growled then turned away, still muttering. “I swear you all are a butch of boneheads. Pains in my ass, all of you!” 

“Am not!” Hypnos called back, suddenly wishing that the knight didn’t save her just so they would have felt guilty when Hypnos got hurt. She huffed as she watched the knight neatly killed off the monsters.

Zagreus was yelling at one of them, silver armor with a black cloak. Melinoe was just trying to help finish off the last few with her knights in silver and orange. 

Hypnos’ knight - not that she liked calling them that but it seemed the magic wanted them all to be color coded for whatever reason- looked far too dashing in their golden armor and red cloak as they ruthlessly killed the queen monster in a single hit. 

Like a knight from a storybook that Hypnos would daydream over. 

Deciding for herself that it was more than safe, Hypnos stood with a huff and went to join her fellow princesses. 

~

It was after five minutes or so of listening to Zagreus arguing with the knights that Hypnos decided she was far too cold and hungry to stay out much longer.

Besides, it was a school night anyway. And she was done wearing these heels.

”I’m leaving.” Hypnos informed the group in a loud yawn. Not that anyone was paying attention to her anyway.

Hypnos turned on her heels and began the long walk back home. Hopefully her brothers or mom won’t notice Hypnos sneaking through her bedroom’s window, she will just act like she was asleep the whole time when they finally do see her.

A moment later, she sensed rather than hear the knight join behind her, a watchful guard - or a babysitter if she was being honest. 

“I will be fine. Shoo, go polish your armor or kill a dragon or whatever it is that knights do.” Hypnos waved a dismissive hand over her shoulders. 

“What knights do is watch over their foolish princess, especially when she tries to walk home alone in the dark.” Her knight shot back. Hypnos felt her cheeks flushed at the implication of the words but only scoffed.

She lifted her arm up, scowling at her flower brooch, and with a tap on it, her school uniform was restored in a gentle light as the brooch changed back to a dainty bracelet with a single charm of a red flower dangling from it.

Thankfully - or unfortunately depending- it returned her school bag as well, but her knight picked it up before Hypnos could, swinging it onto their shoulder. Hypnos gave them a cool glare before she began her walk again.

If her knight wanted to carry her stuff, so be it. Less work for Hypnos.

While the long sleeves of her button up and longer skirt helped a little, it wasn’t as much as she hoped. Shivering, Hypnos crossed her arms. She really needed to remember to get her beloved coat from school tomorrow.

“I swear you guys don’t know how to take care of yourself at all.” Her knight grumbled. Before she could snap back, a heavy, warm weight enveloped her form. 

The cloak. 

If Hypnos was like Zagreus, so desperate to prove herself, Hypnos might have protested but she wasn’t. Hypnos sighed deeply in relief, wrapping it around tightly and buried her face in it to get warm. There was a faint scent to it, almost like a campfire maybe. 

Whenever it was, it smelled good.

For a long moment, they walked side by side in silence. Even with the armor, the knight moved with a quiet, easy grace that Hypnos was envious of. 

“Thank you.” Hypnos said finally, peeking up from her lashes. Gosh, but the knight might be one of the tallest people she ever met. Beside Asterius.

If the voice was deeper, more masculine, it could be Asterius… Hypnos felt her heart flutter with hope.

“Just be more careful next time.” Her knight grumbled. Their voice was low, more like warm silk but most certainly not Asterius.

Hypnos nodded, her hopes dashed but she was surprised to find that she wasn’t that upset. Asterius and his ‘friend’ had something going on even if Hypnos was the only one to notice. “I'm just not made for fighting. I don’t even get a weapon.” 

“You are the reincarnation of a sleep deity or something right? Why would you be near a battlefield anyway?” The knight asked. From the way their tone sounded, it seemed like that question had been on their mind for a while.

Hypnos shrugged, her tone dry. “Seems wrong to get some type of power and not help out my fellow princesses. Zagreus also wouldn’t leave me alone. And I don't want to upset whatever god tossed that egg our way.”

Another silence fell between them. The trees rustled, losing more of the bold leaves. 

“You know what?” Hypnos said suddenly. “I wouldn’t mind all this- the fighting, the late nights -that uniform- you saw how short that skirt is right? Especially with those heels. Anyone could see my panties.”

At that the knight made a strangled noise, like they were in great deal of pain but Hypnos decided it must be their version of laughing in agreement. 

Hypnos sighed, waving her hand around, scowling at the sparkling charm. “I wouldn��t mind if I was actually useful. All I can do is create those dumb red flowers- ow!“

She stopped, hissing at the sharp pain in her scalp. She twisted her head, staring at the charm that was caught in her curls.  Hypnos heard the knight muttering something under their breath, stepping far too close. 

A gloved hand caught her chin, their thumb pressed against her sudden flushed cheek. The leather was cool against her skin but it didn’t help to cool her skin. Hypnos’ heart raced, like a bird caught in her chest as the knight leaned in. 

With gentleness Hypnos didn’t expect, the knight began to untangle the charm out of her curls. 

“Stupid flower.” Hypnos said, desperately trying to look anywhere else. Her other hand tightened on the cloak.

”Poppy.” The knight said abruptly. Hypnos frowned up at them with a quick glance, her eyes on them once again. Even this close, their face was hidden away.

”Those flowers? They are called poppies.” Her knight chuckled, they sounded too amused for their own good. 

“Oh. Wowie, didn’t know that.” Hypnos whispered, once again unable to look at the knight. She sounded like a fool and she wanted the ground to open up to swallow her.

That little laugh had sent a pool of warmth to her chest and Hypnos was torn between running away, her hair be damned or leaning in closer. 

Hypnos wanted to say something else, something clever or seductive like Lady Aphrodite would come up with but her tongue felt heavy as she caught a whiff of that spicy scent again.

“They are supposed to help with pain and with rest.” Her knight spoke up, their voice low. “That's why the chaos egg gave you these gifts. Poppies belong to you, princess, just as sweet dreams and gentle sleep all belong to you.”

Hypnos felt the moment that her charm was freed, the knight’s warm hand curled around her wrist. With a shaky breath, Hypnos looked up, wishing desperately that she could see their eyes.

The knight shifted closer, there was barely any space left between them. Hypnos licked her lips nervously, her heart racing. Like a flash, Hypnos wanted to stand on her toes and kiss this stranger.

Then they jerked, as if realizing how close they and Hypnos were. Her knight immediately stepped away, dropping their hands away.

Hypnos swayed, thrown off balance by the abrupt change. She had been sure they were about to say something else. Her knight shifted the bag on their broad shoulder, already walking away. 

“Come on, princess. It is getting late.” They snapped. 

Hypnos gasped in outrage. She almost didn’t follow them but then remembered they had her bag. 

Fuming with a childish anger, She stuck her tongue out behind their back.

”Put that back in your mouth.” They called out, not even turning around to look at her.

Hypnos sighed loudly and had to run to get caught up.  Nothing was more said between them. Hypnos kept glancing over them but unable to find the right words.

“We are getting near the park’s entrance.” Her knight informed her and Hypnos blinked in surprise. She didn’t realize how close they were, too lost in her thoughts.

“Oh.” Hypnos said. They were still hidden by the evergreen shrubs but it would be easy for someone to spot them once inside the park.

Hypnos gave her Knight a side glance. “You should probably change back. People will notice someone walking around in shiny, gold metal. The movie set thing won’t work, trust me.” 

She couldn’t hide the hopeful tone of her words. Hypnos wanted to know the face behind that helmet. She wanted to know the person that damn egg had paired her with.

”Nope. Sorry, princess.” Her knight said, not sounding all that sorry. Hypnos resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a toddler.

The knight handed over her school bag and she huffed as she looked back at the city. “Stay in the lights, I will protect you until you get home safe.”

Hypnos frowned, turning back to glare at the knight but the space next to her was empty.

“W-what-“. Hypnos turned in a circle, trying to find her companion in the shadows of the park. “Oh come on!”

Hypnos tightened the red cloak around her like a blanket. She stomped her foot. “This is so unfair. I am keeping your cloak!”

~

(The next morning)

At the sound of a motorcycle, Hypnos lifted her head up to scowl at her new guest. Next to her in a sleek sport bike, you peered at her through the visor as you stopped the vehicle in the bike lane.

Thankfully this street was empty with no traffic, making it easy to hear.

You were dressed in your uniform of jeans and your worn leather jacket open carelessly to reveal a black shirt with your parents’ gym logo in the middle.

She felt her cheeks flushed, those familiar butterflies returning to her stomach. She pointly didn’t look at your chest. Or shoulders. 

It was so unfair how much cooler you were. All of Hypnos’ life, you were always this untouchable cool girl that everyone wanted but couldn’t have. 

It didn't do anything to kill her crush on you however, if anything it just made it worse.

“Get on.” You ordered, with a nod toward the backseat. “Did you sleep in again?”

“I was up late last night, you know, saving the world and all that.” Hypnos replied cheerfully. She could be lackadaisical as she wanted, she knew you wouldn’t believe her.

You rolled your eyes like Hypnos knew you would. “You are so spoiled. I have your stupid helmet in my side bag.” 

With a half-hearted glare,Hypnos moved quickly as she could, pulling out her cherry red kitty ears helmet. She loved it so much. 

With a practiced grace, she got on the bike as she placed her helmet on.

it would mess up her hair but as long as she didn’t get in trouble for being late for school again, she didn’t care.

She wrapped her arms around your solid waist just before you took off. Hypnos tucked herself in close with a sigh as you expertly weaved around the traffic. 

You should have been in school with her but you had studied harder than most students and graduated a solid year before anyone else to help with your family business. 

You were probably the reason your parents' business hasn't gone under especially with the rumored health problems of Patroclus. 

Hypnos gave you a squeeze, hoping you knew what she was trying to say. 

And oddly enough, afterwards the faint spicy smell of campfire lingered around her for the rest of the day.

She was going to ask you where you got that cologne, it should definitely be a clue on which guy from school was her knight.

~~~~~~

Speak. (Podcaster Au)

It was around three in the morning when you gave up the ghost. 

Sleep didn’t come again.

Your body felt too anxious, sure that enemies lurked in the shadows, ready to bury a blade in your neck. You rolled out the bed and began to pace in your room. You lived alone, so you wouldn’t be bothering anyone else with your craziness thankfully.

or PTSD as the therapist called it, throwing more alphabets at you along with bright orange pills bottles. Colorful pills that did nothing for you and you glared at the medicine on your nightstand.

It was unfair because you knew this stuff had to help others but it had been months, hell years since you got a good night's rest. Even nightmares would be better than insomnia at this point.

You just wanted to be able to close your eyes and sleep.

~

It was the desperation of seeing another sunrise with dry eyes that burned that sent you looking at podcasts, Zagreus never shut up about them. He always seemed to have one on, and constantly sent you links that you never opened.

Maybe there would be one that would bore you to sleep.

You carefully avoid the ones about current events, you were not in the right headspace for that shit right right now. Definitely not the true crimes one. You scoffed at the alpha males podcasts and rolled your eyes at the historical wars ones. 

No one knew what it was like until it was them in on the muddy fields, listening to everyone dying-

You shook your head sharply, slamming it against the headboard. You didn't wince at the sharp jolt of pain that shot your mind like lightning. You welcomed it. You resisted the urge to repeat it.

You closed your eyes as you forced yourself to do the breathing exercises. 

In.

Hold. 

Out. 

Breath. 

Half an hour later, you resumed your hunting, this time on the much softer couch. Beams of sunlight peered in, dust molts in the amber light. You debated trying to eat something but the thought of even trying made you nauseous. 

It was only by luck when you saw it. You remembered that Zagreus had mentioned it, the name unusual enough to stick in the dimness of your mind. It didn’t seem very popular.

You read the title again.

‘Shut up, Hypnos: A rambling podcast.’

Frowning, you skimmed over the playlist. It seemed this guy picked the most random topic imaginable and then spent anywhere from three to- you blinked and squinted, bringing your phone closer- sixteen hours just talking.

Shut up indeed, you thought with an exhausted chuckle. 

Deciding the seven hours episode on the history of the card game ‘Uno’ was a safe one, you began it as you stared up at the ceiling. There was the first minute of ads, a woman talking about building websites in a near orgasmic tone. 

Then.

”Helllloooo, welcome to my closet and to my podcast. If you don’t know me, my name is Hypnos - yes, I know the name is weird, tell that to my mom- and this is ‘Shut up, Hypnos.’ Where I will talk to you until you either toss your phone into a river with pure disgust at humanity or fall asleep from sheer boredom! Whichever comes first.” 

You blinked, of all the voices you expected, it wasn’t that one. It was airy, not bad but something that told you the man might be pitching it up higher than natural. 

But still, not bad.

”Uno. Dos- tres- No, only Uno please.” Hypnos laughed at his own joke. It was a nice laugh. Your eyes traced the sunbeams on your ceiling.

“That game was the bane of my existence from the moment I gained consciousness and the dexterity required to hold the cards. I don’t think I won a single game and I always ended up with half of the deck in my hands.” Hypnos rambled on. 

You never ever saw this man, not a single clue of what he looked like but you could picture it, a child scowling at the cards. 

“A family ‘game night’ brought up the memories of my horrible childhood and I decided to look up who created this game solely to torture me and me alone. So, my listener, if you haven’t driven us off a cliff yet, let me take you to a magical place called ‘Ohio’ in the year of 1971…”

The last thing you remembered was Hypnos’ outraged at the man who mortgaged his house for a mere eight thousands dollars - ‘shush, listener, I know it was the seventies and it worked out for them but still!’- and the way the golden light seemed to dip like honey.

Hypnos began speaking off topic something related to the game but his voice was faraway now, a quiet murmuring that flowed like the river lethe.

You didn’t remember closing your eyes.

~

When you woke up, you had dried drool on your chin with no idea what time or day it was. It was dim inside and it felt like you had been sleeping forever. Your mind was sluggish and it actually took you a moment to sit up. 

Your phone was on the ground, Hypnos’ cheerful voice still going. You rubbed at your face as you tried to wake up. 

He was no longer talking about ‘Uno’. You weren’t sure what it was about but when Hypnos had said something about genitalia and heroin in the same sentence, you finally picked your phone up.

The episode was named ‘The Ballad of Sexual Dependency by Nan Goldin: post Stonewall art’ 

Then you saw the time. 

You had slept for a solid fifteen hours straight. 

Your phone was clinging to life with six percent left and you needed to pee and you felt your stomach growl, hunger sharp in you for the first time in months. You still felt lost in the fabric of time and space, your head heavy with sleep.

Hypnos was still talking, ranting about an art project that a teacher failed him on because it wasn’t showing Hypnos’ truest intentions.

“What does that mean? What the fuck-“ Hypnos ranted, his anger so genuine that you smiled. “Why spend hours telling me art is subjective then go tell me that-“

You never felt better.

~

A week or so later, Hypnos was spinned around in his wheely chair, sipping on his ice coffee, trying to decide if he wanted to rant about the elephant and their pinnae. He eyed his computer with about twenty tabs he had pulled on elephant ears as he kept spinning.

Monie was staring at him, or rather at the iced coffee in his hand. Her little white Pom tail swayed with hope.

“You can’t have this.” Hypnos informed his dog for the millionth time, still spinning even as the world was getting blurry. “You will die.” 

Monie only made her black eyes bigger and wetter and so much sadder because Hypnos loved her enough to make sure she didn’t kill herself with caffeine.

“I know Monie, no one’s life is harder than yours, you silly dog.”

He heard a ping, meaning his Patreon just got something. Hypnos stopped himself, dizzy as he tried to see what he got. He usually got a dollar or two here and there. So he could definitely get more coffee. 

Maybe even enough for some Taco Bell. He was a big dreamer afterall. He laughed to himself as he looked.

His face went numb, his coffee spilled over his lap as he stared open mouthed at the screen.

He was reading it wrong.

Right? Right.

He automatically picked Monie up so she couldn’t lick at the spilled coffee.

Oh gods.

Rubbing his eyes hard as he could with one hand, he leaned forward, Monie still held aloft as he stared like a fool.

A fat, whole ten grand. It had to be a mistake. He was sure of that.

Then Hypnos saw the message, no real name, just random numbers and letters. 

Just a simple ‘Thank you, Hypnos.’

~~~~~~

Fly high (HTTYD Au, Icelos' pov )

The day they lost Dad, all Icelos remembered was fire. Fire and screams in the dead of the night, the black smoke of dragon fire hid even the stars. Her father’s scream of anguish was louder than even the mightiest dragon roar.

She remembered crying, her twin’s face was a mirror of her own pain.

It was the day they lost their Father too, a proud man who left as a hollowed out ancient tree after a great fire, one that still stood, blackened and ruined.

~

The few scraps of information that Icelos got about her Dad came from others, an off hand comment here or there from Achilles or a neighbor. They had uncles and aunts from their Dad’s side but they never visited anymore.

Icelos wondered often if they blame her father for what happened. 

Sometimes she wanted to write to them, her neat penmanship messy from her anger, to let them know, their stones of guilt were mere pebbles to the world that her Father carried.

She never did.

Instead she hoarded the few bit of her dad that she could.

’Your Dad had the worst sweet tooth I have ever seen, especially with honeyed goods.’ That had come from the baker, after waving a wooden spoon at Morpheus for taking a third helping of hard honey.

‘I still expect to see him napping on the porch.’ Achilles had remarked to Patroclus once, not realizing that Icelos was still in earshot.

And when she was younger, she found books tucked away in a box, many with notes inside an unfamiliar handwriting. It had been the mentions of her Father’s name along with ‘my husband’ that she realized it must be her Dad who wrote these.

She devoured every last one, reading the off hand comments and the bad jokes - so many that it reminded her of Morpheus- to some akin to worship. Icelos thought maybe if she listened hard enough, she would hear him like a lost god murmuring her ears.

Father rarely spoke of Hypnos, although sometimes Icelos caught how Father would watch them sometimes, like he saw someone else. His harsh demeanor softened for a moment.

Icelos wanted to ask him, what did he see? 

Was Dad there in the curve of Morpheus’ cheesy grin, or the way her twin brother would find a perfect patch of afternoon sun to nap in like a cat? 

Was it Photobtor and his eyes, perfect honey gold even in the dark of the night?

She had wanted to ask, perhaps more than anything, did she have anything from Hypnos that none of the others had? Something that was purely theirs. Hypnos and Icelos.

Father always turned away before Icelos found her courage, his broad shoulders just slumped ever so slightly.

Unwillingly, their dad had become a shade in their lives, or something so mystical that it would ruin the house if spoken aloud. Or maybe it would just burn away at the last remaining bit of their father, causing him to fall like an old tree, wood too rotten even for warmth in the cold, lonely night.

~

Icelos was so startled by how warm the dark scales of her night fury felt underneath her palm that her breath hitched. The dragon closed its eyes, completely trusting Icelos.

She let out a breathless laugh. Tears burning in her eyes.  

If her Father could see her now…

She looked down at the trusting beast, its hot breath gentle on her skin. 

He could never know.

~

So of course, Father found out a week later.

But there wasn't time, she had to save her best friend, her father and her grandparents, to show her brothers, everyone what it meant to really fly.

What she remembered wasn’t the flames reaching up for her. It was the determination in her night fury’s eyes. 

Sometimes Icelos wondered if she actually heard her Father’s voice, screaming out her name.

~

After everything, years later with dragons flying in the cold skies of winter, it was Icelos that Father brought to the clan meetings. 

She stayed quiet, standing by his elbow as he dealt with clan matters of hunting, food storage, supplies for homes and the construction of new pathways. There were disputes to settle between the clan members- land rights, cattle and so on- and there were so many countless little things that she never thought about before. 

Her Night Fury had fallen asleep about five minutes in and Icelos never felt such envy before.

When the last of the villagers left, her Father sighed heavily.  “I don’t suppose your dragon won’t mind adding to the fireplace for us?”

“What?” Icelos yelped, waking up her dragon who huffed at her. “But what else is there to do?”

Father smiled grimly as he nodded toward the books on the table. “We shall start with the fun stuff first. We have to go through the incident reports- your dragons are a little too enthusiastic about helping then we have the petitions, expense reports, contracts, reports or requests for help from other clans, livestocks records and so on.”

Icelos moaned in pain as she fell backward into a chair, rubbing her face. Her dragon grumbled at her, sending a burst of flames toward the fireplace. 

“My thanks.” Her father told the dragon, taking a large piece of dried jerky from the table and tossed it. Her nightfury snapped it up greedily, purring in pleasure.

”Father, must we?” Icelos glanced over the piles of books. Was this why she didn’t see her Father until late in the evening? Her knee ached, the false leg cold against her skin. 

She used to like winter but as the weather got deeper and she got older, she found herself not enjoying it as much as she did in her youth.

Icelos shifted and somehow her dearest friend knew, pressing its warm body against her leg, resting their heavy head on her lap. She gave them a pat on their head.

Father approached her, his brow furrowed. “Is your leg bothering you?”

”Yeah but I want to stay.” Icelos said firmly, straightened her back as she met her Father’s hard stare. She kept her head high, not glancing away like someone else might have from her father. 

She may be older now but a single glance from those eyes could still make her feel little like a girl with her hand in the cookie jar.

For a long moment, Icelos thought he would order her to go home but he just nodded, pulling out a leather flask from his cloak. When he poured her a small drink of ale, she nearly went bug-eyed. Father was a hard ass about his kids drinking hard liquor.

”Just this once.” He told her with a wry glance. She thought she almost saw a rare smile. “For the leg. Don’t tell your brothers.” 

Icelos nodded, suddenly feeling very grown up with her drink and paperwork.

After a deep drink for himself, Father brought the books closer to her along with papers and quills. She didn’t have to do any of the paperwork yet but he went over each piece of information carefully, telling her the context and exactly why it mattered. 

It was late in the night when they were done. Icelos slumped in her chair and she watched with heavy eyes as Father placed the paperwork away. 

“Do you know why I chose you?” Father said abruptly, causing Icelos to wake up a little. After a moment, she gave him a goofy smile.

”My neat handwriting?” She guessed, not sure where he was going with that. He huffed, an almost laugh.

”No.” he told her, returning to stand next to her. He placed a large, warm hand on her shoulder. His expression shifted, unreadable in the firelight. “You remind me so much of your dad.”

Icelos blinked, her lips parting but no sounds came out. How long had it been since she last heard Father speak of Hypnos, the shade that haunted their lives? The one that Father still seemed to look for sometimes. 

Father was no longer looking at her, staring into the fire. “Your dad wasn’t suited for leadership but he knew how to… keep me grounded, to make sure I didn’t lead with an ax in my hand and damnation in the other.”

Icelos only nodded, too stunned to speak. She gave her confused dragon a pet on the head, the smooth scales comforting her. 

“You have the best of him. He knew how to stay cheerful even in the darkest times, he was gentle even if he couldn’t help but make smart comments, especially to me.” Father continued, his voice was so quiet, so hopelessly fond. 

Years and years later, he still sounded like he was in love. “Just like you.”

”Oh.” Icelos swallowed, tears forming unwillingly. She didn’t want to cry because if she did, Father might stop.

”You could be a great leader for our clan, Icelos. You have his gentle heart but my iron hand. The fact you already unified our clan and the dragons is only the tip of the iceberg of far you could go.” Father turned back to her, his eyes watchful.

And maybe she was imagining it in her sleep deprivation but- he looked proud. Of her.

She nodded, trying to appear like a leader. She wanted that desperately, to fit in the role her father gave her. “I want to be great. For you and dad.” 

“You already are.” He said, squeezing her shoulder gently.

~

Icelos thought she was going mad. 

Her body was shaking, her breathing kept hitching sharply. Her Night Fury let Icelos braced herself against them, their eyes locked on the pair before her.

A Light Fury was glaring at them, their teeth bared but the man next to the dragon didn’t move, didn’t breath.

How often had Icelos seen those white curls, those golden eyes reflected back in the mirror?

Faintly she heard a noise. Soft and broken. 

Then she realized it came from her twin. Morpheus was shocked into silence, his harsh breathing the only thing hint to his anger, to his pain while Phobetor watched with an hesitant expression. 

“Oh my little starlights.” Hypnos said quietly. the once shade, the ghost that haunted their home, that broke her father beyond repair, smiled warmly. 

His sunlit eyes were bright with tears. “It really is you. All of you.”

Just like that, Icelos and everything she thought she knew fell apart.

~

In the chaos of everything, Icelos had tried to plan for how Dad and Father were going to be reunited after she fixed the issues with the alpha dragon and the bastard keeping other dragons locked up. 

Only for Father to come looking for his lost ducklings. His stormcutter, an old king like her father, has swept in the hiding place with a liquid grace. 

There was no chance to warn him.

Icelos waited for the rage, for the hurt to spill forward like the flames of a Monstrous Nightmare. 

It was clear that Hypnos was doing the same, his shoulders tight, arms crossed over his chest. Father was staring at Hypnos like he couldn't believe he was really there, like he was seeing a ghost. 

Her father was rarely surprised, the only other time she had seen this was when he had caught her riding her beloved dragon. Then he flew in a rage unlike anything she had ever seen.

For painfully long moments, the silence grew. The heaviness of it barring down on her shoulders. 

“I would welcome you to my humble domicile but you didn't even knock.” Hypnos quipped, his voice was airy but Icelos heard the tension in it, a bird’s racing heartbeat. “Just like our wedding night. No manners whatsoever.”

Icelos knew she looked bugged eyed just like her brothers, no one had ever spoken to their father like that. Not even their most ferocious enemies.

Father stepped closer, his eyes locked onto Hypnos. Hypnos swallowed, but didn't look at him, eyes on Father's chest. 

Slowly as if Hypnos was more mist than flesh, Father touched his chin and lifted his head up, studying every line and curve of his husband's face.

Father looked raw, like something made new. His expression tender as a heartbreaking smile broke across his face, his eyes shining. He was about to cry, Icelos realized.

“You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.” His voice was low, rough and so in love. Hypnos gasped, his face crumbling with tears.

They embraced, clinging together so tightly not even the gods could part them now. 

Hypnos was sobbing, his words spilling out of him in a rush. Father was shushing him, his own mighty form shaking as he cupped the back of Hypnos’ head.

At that point, Phan touched her shoulder, jerking his head toward a different, far away area. Icelos nodded, realizing that the other two had already left, giving their parents some privacy.

Later, Icelos dangled her feet off the edge, smiling as her night fury chased the light fury. She had a suspicion her dragon was madly in love but she won't tease them just yet. 

Morpheus had taken off, needing to lick his own wounds, still hurt and angry at their dad. Her twin was speaking to Phobetor of what happened that night. 

He had been far too young the night it happened. 

And Icelos… 

She watched from high above,a stolen moment in the gentle lights, the soft greenery of the cave as her parents swayed together. 

Their voices were too low, too far away but they looked happy, even with tears marks on their cheeks. 

Maybe it was too soon, everything still too raw by the scraping of lost years on their souls but somehow she knew this would be for the better.

~~~~~~

Decisions (Reincarnation au)

Hypnos woke up alone, his cheeks stained with tears. He sniffed, rubbing his face as he sat up. His wings fluttered against his hands. The blanket was spilling off of him and onto the floor.

It was already fading, whatever it was that brought him to tears although the familiar grief lingered in his chest.

Waking up like this was something that just happened sometimes. Hypnos wondered if he would ever get used to it. If he even should get used to it.

”You’re crying.” His captain’s voice was low, gravelly as the bed dipped under your weight. 

“Was. Now I am at the gross snotty phase.” Hypnos corrected, shifting as you pulled him into your arms. Hypnos sighed, tucking his head under your chin. Humans were so much warmer than his species, their bodies hot as a pure summer day.

His wings flared out and lifted up, the tips kissing your cheeks as a greeting. You turned your head, nuzzling against one, and Hypnos couldn’t hide his smile. He loved that his captain tried to mimic his species’ sign of affection with his own human ones.

Your hand rubbed up and down his back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hypnos hummed low in his chest, thinking about it. 

It was no secret that you had oftentimes disliked the other versions of you. Your born calloused, possessive and beastly nature against the civilized knight of your mind were often at war with each other. 

Sometimes the knight won, other times it was the beast. Sometimes they coexisted. 

Hypnos didn’t have the heart to tell you that you still carried such behaviors even now. 

Your large hand spread over Hypnos’ lower back when someone else looked a little too long, the way you would dipped your head to listen to him, the adoring nips on his vulnerable neck as you worshiped him like an pagan and their god. 

Beast and man, always at war with each other.

“I don’t agree with some of the choices I- the other me made. I understand but I don’t agree. I think.” Hypnos sighed. He wiggled in your lap until he could look at you. “How do you deal with it?”

“I call them -or myself- a worthless bastard and try to move on. Can’t change it now.” You said, trying to lighten the mood like Hypnos often did.

Hypnos nodded slowly, then decided he didn’t want to think about it. He silded his wings behind your head, pulling you down for a greedy kiss. Your hands squeezed his waist, pulling his slender body flushed against yours.

Later, tangled together like vines and dozing, Hypnos mused on cycles, death and birth, the ebbs and flows of time until his eyes grew heavy and he returned to the realms of dreams.

~~~~~~

Dappled lights (a quiet world au)

In one life, there was a butterfly with gleaming red wings, fluttering slowly on top of a single daisy as it ate. 

It was unaware of the other butterfly watching them, admiring the shine and artwork that was their existence in the golden lights.

They will only have two weeks together, a mere blink in the eyes of gods but for them it was forever and a day.

In this life, one was a wolf, born with a deadly grace and teeth that gleamed. The other was a lost half breed, their fur soft as snow. They ran together under the moon, eyes shining and tongue lolling, they were light and darkness side by side.

When one had to leave, the other followed, curled around their mate in their small den. 

Another, so short was the lives of mayflies, only here for a moment but they fell together.

in this one, they were oak saplings, growing together side by side. Their branches grew out as they got taller. One stopped, unable to grow anymore but the other, healthy and strong, grew the branches downward until they met, tangled together forevermore.

Just one more ( it is always just more life together, just more one moment then they would be satisfied. They never are) 

But just one more, a sheep and its guard dog, bloodied to save their beloved companion. 

But just one more, two sparrows and their wings lifted by the winds, the sun shining down on them.

Just one more, one was fire and the other was fuel.

One more, an impossible, empty sea and a life giving river met, a line marking where they kissed.

One. it was the sun, warm and golden and the other was the cool, dark earth. Life bloomed wherever the sun caress them.

More. They were void and the other was everything.

Again?

Time was a flat circle, reality was infinite and they spun and spun around, laughing as they kissed.

Again.

[yell0wsalt]

Fic Writing Review 2023

Reflection

This was my first year getting more into fandom, specifically fanfic writing and, wow, I learned a lot. About myself, where I'm at, and where I want to be. Each one I'm trying to figure out what may work for me.

In one way or another I've tried different ideas, some I'm happy with, others not so much. I'm learning to be okay with that.

To accept that I have not done much particularly interesting and there is still so much more I can think about and try. It is a learning experience, slowly expanding my bubble and getting exposed to different perspectives and takes.

Words and Fics

128,421 words posted on AO3. Plus several ficlets on tumblr I don't care to keep track of

2 published WIPs I'm currently working on

32 fics published.

7 multi-chapter fics published

2 multi-chapter fics published and in progress

Top 10 Fics by Kudos

10. Gotta Cool Down, I'm Heated (M, Korvira)

9. Blooming (G, Linzin)

8. Cinnamon Spice Bliss (T, Irosami)

7. Say It (M, Linzin)

6. A Closed Discussion (E, Makorra)

5. Loving You throughout the Years (M, Linzin)

4. A Spark in the Dark (T, Linzin)

3. Your Electric Touch (G, EraserMic)

2. A Lazy Winter Morning (E, EraserMic)

1. I'm Bored, Let's Fuck (E, Linzin)

Fandom Events

AU Roulette 2023

Shinishi of the Deep (Cosmic Horror AU)

Blooming (Medieval AU)

More than You Know (Mecha AU)

Lin Beifong's Week

Say It

ATLA Rare Pair May Day

Monsters and Myths

The Taste of Your Care

Fox Cat v. One

March Madness

I'm Bored, Let's Fuck

A Closed Discussion

Promises of Today and Tomorrow

Upcoming Plans for 2024

I have several WIPs I need to to finish. Let's take care of those.

There are several writing prompts I want to tap into as ways to spark other ideas in me I may not have thought of before on my own.

Aside from writing for my OTPs, rare-pairs and other ships are tingling at the mind. There are a few I am eager to try.

Not feel so embarrassed to write something or anything that's dumb or silly. Every now and then, you need a little of that.

"Be a little weirder than what you think is okay" This is the space for it and it makes things interesting.

Again, finish the WIPs.

[fujoreads]

The Summer Hikaru Died Vol. 1 + 2 // Review & Thoughts

I just finished reading volume 2 and realized I did not talk about vol. 1 at all, so let's talk!

The Summer Hikaru Died (story & art by mokomokuren) is a cosmic horror story with a queer-coded complicated relationship, set in rural Japan. Got your interest? Well, you’re in for a ride!

CW: Death; Body & Cosmic Horror; Gay Panic & Homophobia

I honestly don’t remember how I got to know about this… I think someone talked about it in a podcast episode? I remember the concept being very interesting: your friend is gone for a week and when he comes back, it turns out he’s some sort of creature that only our protagonist is aware of.

I read both volumes with a huge time gap—almost an entire year, I think?—and every time I finished one, I was just too stunned to read much of any other thing that day. It’s immersive, it’s creepy, and it has that gay panic vibe only these types of works can give. I love me some fluffy and dramatic romance, but the angsty, scary and out there stuff is what conquers me.

I’ll admit: I thought this was going to be just another BL I’d forget soon enough, so the horror aspect caught me off guard… and I absolutely loved it! It’s intense without being always present. I wouldn’t say it’s psychological horror as the horror is present, but it does not rely on cheap jumpscares. Instead, it builds its tense atmosphere, and the use of cicadas for that is amazing. I remember getting the same anxiety-inducing feeling when reading Higurashi: When They Cry (the visual novel), like the heat is getting to you.

I’m not a huge horror fan. Not that I don’t like it—I love it—but I just can’t find stuff that suits my specific tastes. This one does, and I can’t get enough of it. I love mystery and horror but I hate the kind of horror that relies on visuals to scare the reader. This one managed to have a healthy balance and it serves as the exception.

It has Hikaru’s face. It has Hikaru’s voice. It even has Hikaru’s memories. But whatever came down from the mountains six months ago isn’t Yoshiki’s best friend. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. Carrying on at school and hanging out as if nothing has changed—as if Hikaru isn’t gone—would be crazy...but when it looks so very like Hikaru...and acts so very like Hikaru…

This story is fantastic. It’s fast-paced, and yet you feel stuck in time, glued to your seat. I sometimes even forgot the background cicada noises I’d play while reading.

This is mysterious, but don’t expect your typical mystery read. This is a slice of life existencial thriller, dealing with bizarre creatures and worst of all—your own feelings.

Mokumokuren’s art is just superb. It’s so unique that if I wasn’t already drawn by the synopsis, I would have read it for the art alone. Not only is the artstyle pleasing to look at, but the way they draw perspectives and play with the shading does wonders to the horror elements.

Also, I have to shoutout to Abigail Blackman (the letterer) and Yen Press! The way the sound effects were inserts in the panels made a world of difference, especially when it comes to the cicada sounds.

The story follows mainly Yoshiki and Hikaru, two best friends in a rural Japanese village. Yoshiki is more of a gloomy kid, while Hikaru (just like his name, “light”) is the sunny, dumb kind. This all changes after the events the synopsis presents, showing Hikaru as more feeling, and even more childish.

These two are so interesting to follow: a co-dependent pair that doesn’t want to admit it and the way this shows through a literal monster is just delicious.

The way Yoshiki feels repulsed towards his friend and his own feelings, while feeling seduced to accept something that might not be so good to him—and yet, it feels right. He misses his friend and feels conflicting feelings towards this new creature inhabiting Hikaru’s body. Is it alright to accept this as Hikaru, or will it never be the same? Are is feelings true when directed to someone who isn’t there anymore?

The way Hikaru tries to come to terms with the meaning for his feelings and what is “Hikaru” and the being’s own identity. His strong feelings of loneliness and feeling overly attached to Yoshiki is something I could definitely relate to.

While there’s nothing explicitely better about queer media, something I’ve noticed is how more subtle and metaphorical dynamics and relationships can be, either because of direct societal prejudice or because of how queer people grow to hide their feelings, in fear of rejection and humiliation. Of course, the latter can also happen with hetero couples, but the feelings of rejection that can lead to co-dependence and loneliness are just that much stronger within the queer sphere, especially amongst gay men—and it’s visceral, to the point of fitting right into the horror realm.

Dealing with the unknown can be scary, and the way mokumokuren portrays this relationship and mixes it with the cosmic horror elements is masterfully done. It feels gross but erotic—like a guilty pleasure you find as a teenager—without ever being pornographic in nature. Hell, there’s not even a kiss or explicit thoughts, it’s all a play of “will they, won’t they” for the readers to munch over. While this is a fast-paced series, it’s also a slow burn when it comes to their relationship.

The writing iself isn’t anything too grand, due to its format. You can’t expect too much of a focus on writing in a visual medium.

I’ll talk about this into more detail in the following paragraphs, but the way the writing mixes with the environment and horror elements is where it peaks. There’s occasional bolding and a play with the font sizes, making it more tense to follow along.

I’ve always loved stories set in rural Japan, but all I’ve read that checked my boxes were set before the 2000s—before smartphones and other modern technologies.

The Summer Hikaru Died is set in contemporaneity and even then, you sometimes forget it. There are occasional shows of a smartphone, and even a mention of the Nintendo Switch, but the rural setting makes it so that feels useless.

When reading Higurashi (which is set in the 80s), I always thought “man, this wouldn’t have happened if they had smartphones” but reading this now, I realize that was a futile thought. Sure, they could use the GPS tracker in moments of panic, or call a friend, but in the moment of fear and paranoia, that could only aggravate a situation. Mokumokuren takes full advantage of that: someone sneaking a glance at a message notification they weren’t supposed to see; being too scared to grab the phone…

The horror elements here were only intensified by the creative use of the format!

The concept for this story by itself isn’t anything unique: things inhabiting our loved ones’ bodies isn’t a new thing. However, the way this trope is used to explore other fears and themes is where it stands out.

The exploration of sexuality mixed with feelings of guilt for both parties; the “what if” scenarios in Yoshiki’s mind that could have saved Hikaru; and the overall way being queer plays into society, especially one such as the rural community in Japan.

It’s not uncommon for queer people to have lost a friend or two, be it to mental health or an STD, and the way homossexuality is sometimes compared to an “illness” by the townfolk, I can see the being inside Hikaru as a personification of his feelings and desires, and how Yoshiki struggles to accept them and his own love.

The series isn’t over, but I strongly recommend checking it out.

The third (and latest) volume comes out in April 16th, and I’m super excited! From the cover alone, it may focus more on the minor cast, such as the group of school friends.

In summary: this is a fast-paced (but slow burn when it comes to the main relationship) horror story, more within the cosmic horror sub-genre. It has BL elements and I personally find it to be the main topic, even if it’s not explicit. If you enjoy these, go for it!

Even if you’re not a fan of BL, I find it interesting and subtle enough most times so even people who aren’t into BL can enjoy it, as long as you enjoy slow-burn horror.

I’ll give all my starts and love to this one, as it’s one of my personal favorites! I’m looking forward to more from mokumokuren!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Thank you for reading it all to the end! Hey, kind stranger! Would you be so kind and consider giving me a little tip? It can be as low as 3 bucks and it’d make a huuuuuge difference!! If you tip 10€ (or higher), you can dictate my next read and be credited (if you’d like) on that review! Have a nice day!!

[wheresernie]

In your opinion, which horror movies/franchises would the Mystery Shack crew fit best in? Individually or as a group - your choice!

Oh this is a fantastic question.

Ford would survive an Alien-type world but just barely. He's not Ripley, he's the cat. I also think that 80s with Ford being possessed by Bill and loosing time, blood everywhere on you, no idea if it's yours or not? That's just a psychological horror film. I do think if Stan hadn't stepped in when he had Ford wouldn't have lasted the week.

Stan Pines could survive a slasher. He survives the zombies and is pretty skilled in close range combat. He has fists of steel (knuckledusters). I'd say he'd do great against a Ghostface.

The Stan twins together would go against a creature feature monster of the week! Is it a werewolf? A vampire? something more topical, like a kelpie or chupacabra? they're beating it up!

Mabel and Dipper can survive paranormal horror as LONG AS THEY ARE TOGETHER. if they are separated they do not do as well. But they're also 13 so they get Scooby Doo horror.

Mcgucket gets eldritch horror. Isn't that what he saw that lead to his regression? Something that an otherworldy being would think nothing of but would destroy our human minds.

Soos is the guy who you think is dead but suprise he's back! Is he the killer? No he's just that dumb (said with love). His genre of horror is parody horror/ horror comedy, like Tucker and Dale vs the Forces of Evil.

Matt thank you this calmed me down a lot

[davidmariottecomics]

Keeping Your Comic Perspectives Broad

Hi there! 

This week, I've had a lot on my mind. I saw a conversation going around Bluesky about whether the big two are publishing comics for kids in a way that's reflective of their multimedia presences. I'm reading Bill Griffith's Three Rocks: The story of Ernie Bushmiller, the Man Who Created Nancy and, somehow, moments after putting it down after reading for a bit this morning, managed to open Bluesky to a creator I like having no idea who Nancy is. Becca and I each read the Palestine section of Joe Sacco's Journalism since it's the only Sacco book I have that I know where it is in the house, unfortunately. And, being a Sunday morning, I did my usual Sunday round-up of new releases on the Shonen Jump app and on Webtoons. Plus all the comics I read as a regular part of my work day--action-adventure with funny animals (Sonic), action-thriller with giant monsters & robots (Godzilla), and pitches and shorts of horror and sci-fi and superheroes and all sorts of stuff. I've enjoyed a lot of different types of comics, and all of that goes back to a different conversation I saw going around earlier on Bluesky, of why comics creators who may not particularly enjoy superhero stories should still recognize the fundamental comics storytelling that they've built and refined over the past almost 100 years. 

So, today we're talking briefly on all of that in talking about the importance of keeping your perspectives broad on what the medium is and can be. 

Is Nancy the Purest Expression of Comics? 

Like... probably! Yeah. Nancy is great, whether you're talking about modern Nancy or classic! It is the only comic I consistently remember to read every day (though I try very hard to keep up with my other two current dailies, Dumbing of Age and Gil Thorp). I am not the first to say that Nancy is a comic inherently about comics, about the format and the ways in which we interact with them. In fact, there's a whole book called How to Read Nancy which contends that you can understand all complexities of comics through a single Nancy strip. Which somehow manages to be a bold claim and something so inherently true if you've ever read Nancy that it almost renders the book superfluous. 

Something a lot of folks who are not Nancy-heads probably don't realize is that the strip is *technically* 101 years old. It started as a different strip, Fritzi Ritz, with a different creator, Larry Whittington. Nancy herself showed up in 1933, and accidentally kinda took over. Good for her. And, under Bushmiller's (and later assistants') pen, it became this just really condensed form of comics in usually 3-4 panel gag strips that play with all the conventions of the form. I've mentioned the new Comic Devices site and I genuinely believe you can probably find any of the devices mentioned in the great history of Nancy strips. 

With this high pedigree and recognition by many cartoonists and the heights of how big it got as a newpaper comic, you'd think Nancy would be an instantly recognizable character to anyone who has ever read a comic and... she's iconic, no doubt, but especially now, I don't think that's true (see the above where I mentioned a creator I like having no idea who Nancy was). 

The Conventions of Superheroes

The reason I bring up Nancy in particular is that Nancy is a comic strip. Yes, Nancy has also been a comic book and many strips are also now digital as well as print, but my point being, outside of a few strip collections and your more literary books like Three Rocks or How to Read Nancy, you aren't going to see a lot of Nancy at your local bookstore or comic shop. And that's also kind of one of the things I love about comics as a medium. While there are obvious downsides too, I do love that comics readers are spoiled with choice. Whatever genre may strike your fancy, whatever method of comics storytelling--single issues, collections and OGNs, webcomics, strips, weird hybrid things, whatever--you can kind of find and enjoy if that's what you want. 

I bring this all up in reference to superheroes because there is still, even within creator spaces, I think there tend to be misconceptions about what "superhero comics" are, or bad experiences with superhero comics leading to a rejection of the breadth of that form of storytelling. 

Take, for example, the many times I have gone into a bookstore (not usually comic shops, but bookstores) and have seen a display that reads something like "Comics without superheroes" and then it has Sandman on it. I think my local library's had that sort of display too. And I'm like... Martian Manhunter and Doctor Destiny are in volume 1 of this thing. Sandman is very much a part of the DC universe, it's just not telling "traditional" superhero narratives. But it is a book that exists within and because of superhero storytelling. Same with pretty much all of early/retroactively Vertigo--Swamp Thing, Doom Patrol, Animal Man, Hellblazer, Lucifer, that weird Prez one-shot, etc. 

Or, alternatively, take the folks who love My Hero Academia and don't have the same relationship with other superhero comics. Yes, the actual forms of them tend to be different, but that thing wears it's Big 2 influences on its sleeve. 

I think I'm drifting a bit, so to refocus on the point--even if you don't think you like superhero stories, chances are, there are some that would really resonate with you because superhero stories aren't a monolith. And, y'know, I also sometimes wonder if I'm the one with odd taste because while I may have genre preferences in the types of media I consume, I'm usually pretty flexible with trying different samples from different forms and finding stuff I like even if not everything's for me (like... I'm not a big jazz guy, but there's definitely some that does it for me). And the reason you'll find that there are stories that work for you is superheroes are a vehicle for storytelling the same as many other things. Superhero stories can be political commentary, they can be self-aware, they can be horror or romance or suspense or or sci-fi or sometimes even non-fiction autobiography. What you want is likely there, there just might be some extra footwork to find what you want. 

And, if nothing else, you can find some amazing craft within superhero comics. I often link to it because I think it's quite the analysis, but years ago, ComicsAlliance ran a really great multi-part piece on superheroes as the basics of color theory and how that can apply outside the world of superhero comics. So many tricks to lettering and layouts and foreshortening and the ways in which we can create shorthand or pose bodies or create interesting juxtapositions can be found in superhero comics. And that's true of kind of any type of comic. You can find bits that you like there. 

The other reason I stress all of this, and one of the other big misconceptions I think people sometimes have about superhero comics, is as I mentioned earlier, I saw a thread questioning basically "Are there comics starring Spider-Verse star, Spider-Gwen, that my middle grader can read?" And the short answer is yes! She's got a major role in Marvel Action: Spider-Man. A lot of her comics runs, honestly, pretty kid-friendly as long as you accept that your kid might have some questions about like... a few instances of word choices or like relationships. Which is how a lot of comics still are--we think of single issue comics that aren't shelved in the kids section as being "child inappropriate" and certainly, some of them are, but a lot of them are fine for an inquisitive kid. And, yes, publishers are trying to make it easier with clearer options for younger folks, like the DC younger reader graphic novels program or Marvel's Scholastic books. 

Enjoy a Little of Everything Here's the big takeaway. If you let them be, comics can be a buffet of delights. You can sample so many different things and eat as much as you want and sometimes find, sure, this soup doesn't really work for you, but the one next to it slaps. And I think the best creators are people who recognize that and fully embrace it and try to read a lot of other comics in their various forms and genres and also, of course, consume plenty of other non-comics work too and maybe have some sort of life outside of pop culture. But whether it is trying to stay abreast of what is currently happening in comics to see if someone else is executing a similar idea or to be able to recommend a book to a lost parent or to really be able to seek out the things you personally enjoy and be able to incorporate the best of that into your own work, I think you've got to take comics with a broad perspective. 

That's it for me this week! See ya soon! 

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast),  Reverse 1999 (Video Game), Joe Pera Talks with You (TV show), Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (Anime), Gone Girl (Movie... I might've watched this two weeks ago, but hey, still slaps), Three Rocks (Comic), Journalism by Joe Sacco (Comic), Nancy (Comic), Lego Masters (TV show)

New Releases this week (11/15/2023): Godzilla Rivals: vs. Mechagodzilla (Editor)     - As an aside, a couple of my Godzilla creators, Kara Huset from Rivals: vs. Mechagodzilla and Lane Lloyd from an upcoming War for Humanity cover, are going through a bit of a tough time and could use some extra work. If you've got anything to send their way, I can vouch for 'em! They are both creators where in like 3-5 years, you'll be notable for getting them before they blew up! 

Final Order Cutoffs next week (11/20/2023): Sonic the Hedgehog #68 (Editor)

New Releases next week (11/22/2023): Brynmore #5 (Editor)

Announcements: Do you have $10, want some cool comics, and also want to do good in the world? Adam Szym put together Comics for Gaza's Children on itch.io. They're already a third of the way to their overall goal and just launched this morning. It's over 100 items from more than 50 creators across a ton of different genres. I have a comic in there because Becca volunteered Jimmy Squarefoot as well as their adult NSFW comic with letterer Duke NuCum, Rivals. All proceeds are going to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund. 

If you have more money to give, the Cartoonist Cooperative is doing E-Sim cards for Gaza. You can donate a digital sim card so that residents can get access to the internet and have more functional phones and, in exchange, get some comics or a drawing or whatever else is available from the many participating artists. 

You can also give more directly. If you don't have money, and I get it, you can call or fax or email or show up at the offices of your representatives. And, of course, if you need to step away for a bit so that you can do more again later on, please take care of yourself. 

And this last part is unlikely, because you're someone who reads and/or works in comics, but if you've still got a couple of dollars, why not support some struggling artists? Aside from those already mentioned, you can visit my webstore, my Patreon, or my Kofi, and you can always visit Becca's portfolio/shop/Patreon/Twitch streams too. Depending on what time I have to go through things and update my shop, I'm hoping to do a little something for Small Business Saturday-Cyber Monday. 

Pic of the Week: When Becca and I were grocery shopping the other day, we saw a genuinely very impressively sized eggplant. It was bigger than their hand. And hilarious eggplant as dick aside, honestly, it made us kinda bummed that we don't like eggplant because that's just a really impressive veggie! 

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Really depends what kind of narrative you're interested in. There's actually a lot of options these days!

Welcome to Night Vale has a fun, weird vibe that occasionally dives into horror, the supernatural, political commentary, and heartfelt messages about the nature of humanity. Narrative arcs are very fulfilling and you'll know right away if it works for you or not. Much of the series is locked to Cecil, especially in the early seasons, we occasionally branch out to new narrators later in. But broadly, if you don't like Cecil, you won't like the show. Strongly recommend trying the first episode and if it's not hitting you right, try the next thing.

There's a lot of horror lovers out there who will sing the praises of The Magnus Archives. While it's a bit of a gateway drug to horror, it's not my favorite tbh. So I'm going to make a pitch for Old Gods of Appalachia. If you're from the United States, I think this podcast is a must listen. If you're not from the US, I think it's still great, you just may not enjoy it as much. The Old Gods of Appalachia is horror, yes, but it's also fairy tale and myth, it's historical fiction, it's an examination of some of the most tragic and ugly roots of US culture. There are some pretty rough descriptions here, a lot of nasty looking monsters and violence, I won't lie. But it has powerful, fulfilling narrative arcs and if you're at all interested in magic, there's a pretty compelling magic system here. I have a personal fascination with some of these foundational stories, reworked in this eldritch setting. I think it's doing great work, but some of the bloodier chapters are not for everyone, that must be admitted. I'd try the first season to see if it works for you. The first couple of episodes set up a pitched overplot that surfaces from time to time as more linear plots take up season arcs. I do recommend, even if horror is not typically your bag.

Also gotta give a shout out to Malevolent, if you're a horror lover. Malevolent is loosely based on The King in Yellow by R. W. Chambers, but so much more than that. I can't say very much without spoiling, but if you like your stories dark and twisted, look no further. Also, it's voiced almost exclusively by one guy, did I mention that? Harlan Guthrie is a powerhouse if you want to see some excellent voice acting.

Moving on to lighter fare, the Amelia Project has recently become a love of mine. Boisterous, delightful, funny, it's about a death-faking company whose clients will never be as bizarre as the staff. It's really funny, especially in the first few seasons which are mostly self-contained episodes, sort monster of the week except it's a client with a dumb problem that our eccentric Interviewer must solve. There's cocoa, champagne, and a much longer story than you probably expect. There's eventually a turn as world governments begin to investigate our little gang of criminals and our stories, while still about death-faking, become ever more about the people who perform these services. There's a lot of meditation on what it means to die, what it means to live. I'd say if you like parts of Doctor Who, up to you what that means, or if Night Vale was working for you, then this will probably be your jam. Much like with Night Vale, try the first episode and you'll probably know right away whether this works for you or not. Oh, and for reference, the deaths are never cruel or grisly, this is a comedy; the more unlikely and ridiculous the disappearance, the better.

Those are my favorite currently producing shows. I'm also a big fan of Within the Wires, Stellar Firma, and It Makes a Sound but there's no new episodes for those and there's unlikely to be any for awhile, if ever. But it can be nice to experience something that's over.

Within the Wires is a woman-centric story about an alternative 20th century. It even has a novel end cap, You Feel It Just Below The Ribs, that hits like a hammer blow. Each season is a discrete story which can give you a chance to sample 1 or 2 to see if it's something you like. I recommend starting with season 1, it's still my favorite, but after that you could kinda listen to any season you liked.

Stellar Firma is... a disaster. The Brothers Meredith, of Magnus Archives and Rusty Quill fame, put together a screwball comedy about a planet terraforming service in the distant future starring Trexel Geistman an extremely entitled idiot whose parents never loved him and his long-suffering clone servant David 7 who does his best to keep the whole place from burning down in one of Trexel's tantrums. It's fantastically funny and largely improvised except for general plot threads.

It Makes a Sound is about living with dementia, losing your mother, your identity, your sense of the world and the struggling connections that make all of it bearable. It's about being willing to see the beauty, even if it's cringe, even if you look like a dork and feel like a dork. The music, and there is much music, is excellent and the story is heartfelt. There are no spooky monsters or wacky hijinks, just a lot of people doing their best. I have cried listening to this and I will again. It's a sweet, funny, sad story and it makes me feel very, very alive.

So there's a lot of different flavors out there. Eventually you'll find yours. Happy listening!

So I now have a >1hr commute 3-4x a week. I need narrative podcasts and I know nothing about podcasts.

I'm considering getting into WTNV? I guess? It's literally the only one I know of with a narrative.

Suggestions????

[feuqueerfire]

Oh No! Here Comes Trouble Live Blogging

I don't really fully know what it's about, I was recommended this when I wanted something thriller that had a bromance/BL but romance wasn’t at the forefront + I know there's some superpower stuff + I learned just a week ago that the main characters are bully and victim? As always, hope I love it, think I'm in the mood for a supernatural bromance.

Ep 1 (June 5)

ghosts and monsters

Guangyan having to reject girls' and boys' confessions alike

Yiyong has a hereditary gift of calligraphy he got from his grandfather? he's the reincarnation of the demon? and the dead (??) man at the beginning was also doing calligraphy and turned old, is that his grandfather?

oh his grandfather's alive. and thinks Yiyong took the free ride/isn't doing calligraphy properly

Yiyong wants to draw/be a cartoonist

what's up with Yiyong's wound on his right hand middle finger? he's gotten it his whole life?

oh, his grandfather can see/communicate with ghosts or demons or monsters and Yiyong can see that too

70 yuan is like 13CAD

ooh, are we gonna have a semi-important female character? :D cop tho, boooo

oh yeah, she appears as a main role in MDL, I just thought it was a bromance with focus on the 2 male leads, so this is nice

the show is quite good with comedy so far, i like the chair gag

oh my god?! okay i know in the summary it says Yiyong gains powers after an accident or something but I forgot

This monster (?) wanted something from his grandpa his whole life and now that he's dead I'm guessing, wants the same thing from Yiyong.

oh nvm grandpa's alive

who was unconscious for 717 days? his dad? or is he dad? his grandpa?

why don't they translate what they say? at first I thought it said 717 days later but we're just going through the accident day

okay, his grandpa's unconscious for 717 days and also Yiyong's at the hospital for a while (but idk how long...)

damn, Yiyong's life feels like it's falling apart around him, he's crying/wailing every 3 minutes in the show

ah, his father indeed passed away

Why did they stop translating the written stuff, it used to be translated earlier in the ep, agh

wtf? Is that dead man who is being stitched back together Yiyong's father? He wouldn't be just strewn around like that in a field though

ah, seems like it's a different person the bit of Next Episode I saw. I didn't realize we were going full-on undead scary monster territory

Ep 2 (June 5)

ah, undead guy is going around the city and people have deemed him #freak since so many have taken vids of him

is the comment on Yiyong's coming from Guangyan?

girl, am I gonna be terrified while trying to sleep tonight? but also the horror aspect is still humorous here lol

it's fun to hear people's thoughts and see how they think that the other is thinking the opposite, like first Yiyong thinking the calligraphy guy thinks he's dumb when he thinks he's smart and now with the cop

the undead guy insisting he's not the guy in the pic, does that mean a different dead soul is inhabiting his body rn?

I don't get her One-per nickname and what it has to do with the investigation team exam

Yiyong asking the undead guy if he'd know whether the owner of the body was in pain as he died, presumably because his father died similarly :(

the mom T.T

ah, the guy who passed away was bullied/ostracized?

damn, what'd the undead guy do/who'd he visit? is it his mother crying after seeing him at this state or did he scare the shit out of somebody?

Ep 3 (June 6)

also, the undead guy who's possessing wouldn't be Yiying's father, right? because his mother tells his dad's belongings to let him know someday whether he was in pain before he died and the undead guy overheard

this Lisong going to his parents and bowing to them scene is so T.T touching

oh, is this undead guy some sort of water god/spirit or something?

WHAT DOES THE GRANDFATHER'S CALLIGRAPHY SAYYYYYYY

I don't fully get what happened, so Yiyong wrote that sentence (??) and the undead guy became free from his old body or water or whatever?

were they looking for the spirit's body in the water or something? and then gave up? but what does "it's an empty shell" mean?

ah, we're still following up pn Lisong's cause of death

oh, is this statue what holds/held the undead spirit?

the pieces of paper that flew away during the accident

ah, Guangyuan finally shows his face again

not Yiyong practically robbing Guangyan's father 150yuan per character omg

he was unconscious? I thought Yiyong woke up and stuff, no? bruh I think I'm not keeping up with this show as well as I should

owwww second hand embarrassment about the finger heart thing but interesting that Guangyan sees dried flowers (?) that nobody else sees. will Yiyong be able to see it?

a new spirit, though this time she found Guangyan first? so we'll have a new spirit every few episodes with an overarching theme of the father and grandfather?

Ep 4 (June 6)

oh, this is a different guy in the prelude

i loveeee when somebody is newly introduced to a world that other people already know about (ie. Guangyan being introduced to this stuff that Yiyong has dealt with). I read the first book in paranormal series a lot because it's the main character learning about the world

oh, Guangyan can see the flowers but not the spirit

Yiyong realized he can see not only just corpses that are possessed (and everybody can see) but also spirits without a corporeal body that others can't see

and so is searching for his dad, hoping to see his father's spirit

Guangyan can see the flowers when holding the paper that Yiyong did calligraphy on. He can also see the spirit woman after Guangyan draws her

oh, she wants the name of the corpse guy who's in the doctor's lab

so she's not a spirit, she's straight up a being who originated from his tattoo and him speaking to it?

his parents died?

Ep 5 (June 7)

maybe i shouldn't be watching this while eating

dumbass boss fr why would you tell somebody who was just disparaging one worker than you've seen him around homeless people, you knowwww they're gonna make it a Whole Thing

I know because of ZB1 Zhang Hao that Normal University means it's a teacher's university

ouchhhhh "It's fun just thinking about it"

why did the guy leave his home if his home is still intact 20 years later? what about rent?

wrapped up the tattoo storyline and onto the next one, but I think I'll take a break here

some guy walking hand in hand with some child who appears from dust?

...why is this one so scary seeming? a kidnapped child who is stuck ??? as a cement thing, that's terrifying bruh

Ep 6 (June 8)

watched an episode of Wandee in the morning and should be doing work right now but here I am. Funnily, it was ep 6 for Wandee too

Ah, this spirit guy is from the rock roadblock that was there to protect children from getting hit and took on the body of the painted guy on the road

That's why he turns asphalt-like

genderless child, though using he/him pronouns in English translation

Owww, Yiyong found the video of the inside of the bus right before the crash :(

we're also following this guy who lost his child (to death?) and is effected by seeing children. before, he'd grabbed onto a child thinking it was his own son, I guess? would he be the "kidnapper"

oh indeed, it's that guy who the child left with, I wasn't sure about the face from before the credits

oh scary... he's "nice" to the child and interacts with him but keeps him under lock and key

is she called 1-per because she missed the first question on her test or something?

oh, I thought we'd get only the back of the child's head for all of it or have it be a big deal when we see the face but seems like it's casual

have I seen this ice cream stealing?

I would be very sad if they were only handing out stickers to children and says no to me

pls Guangyan's father being happy about his newfound tomfoolery and bad behaviour

oh man, Shang Wu accidentally fell from the window and died and the father also is attempting (?) to kill himself that way after letting go of the road painting kid?

This one was tragic and sad

Ep 7 (June 8/9)

I really shouldn't eat while watching this show...

The heart-to-heart between the kidnapper dad and Yiyong is so good because they've both lost somebody

Yiyong's guilt and grief haunts the show

There is a very, very, very old man and an old lady behind this

I've seen this dragging on bus clip for sure

Guangyan knows about Yiyong's food preferences

hehe both of them being like He's bullying me!

sleeping in 1 bed

Seems like the smokey lady is likely behind his grandpa's coma because he was "selfish" and I guess didn't help the spirits that came to him the way Yiyong has been helping them

Ep 8 (June 11)

I know it's just a bit but Guangyan's father's failing businesses stress me out, what about moneyyyy and incomeeeee and stability

so doll-like

oh, her appearance changes

disappeared 7 years ago... so that's why the changing ages? but does that mean she was alive till recently? she's not still alive, is she?

oh, there are 7 dolls that the mother made

They're really making Guangyan blush at the doll. first of all, you're like 20 and she's a 16 year old doll

i love you moody teenage girl who feels things are unfair. what a good archetype

I saw I glimpse of that guy from the window or whatever and immediately was like familiar... is he Tangyi's biological father from History 3: Trapped? and indeed he is

They wouldn't do the parents schemed this all up in this show I think? so I guess it has something to do with Tangyi's father and the single mother he married? the doll-making is somewhat creepy though idk

Ep 9 (June 11/12)

what's the deal with the cafe? I didn't get what they found out after going there at night. it's similar to the doll store?

single mother: Lin Jingrei

ah, she suspiciously had around the same amount of money that they gave for ransom 7 years ago to open her restaurant 6 years ago

the daughter of the single mother who we are now assuming did something to He'an (along with the husband she married) has one of the hairpins, though she just found it at her house + her mother told her that the friend just "moved schools"

This digging up body and finding the hairpin as an identifier really reminds me of Beyond Evil, specifically that's girl's mother who also had the hairpin

how horrid, trapping her in that box thing. also you see the way the daughter was talking about how her mother always compares her and such, she's filled with envy

This was such a sad story comparatively, I guess the children dying ones are just like that (like the boy who fell off the window in the last arc)

Ep 10 (June 12)

The Xe'an kid story isn't done? Somebody else came in after she was locked in? The doll didn't choose a paper either, so makes sense that that story isn't fully done

The mystical old lady is trying to help the grandfather, not harm him

a new story with a pair of young brothers? who have an abusive parent?

Ep 11 (June 12)

oh, true, Xe'an was speaking to somebody when Jingrei came across her, I thought maybe it was an imaginary friend or something but it makes sense if somebody else also often comes there

i actually don't know where they're going with the "somebody else was there and actually lead to Xe'an's death" like seems like it's not Tang Yi's father, doesn't seem like it'd be the little girl who's Jingrei's daughter, doesn't seem like it'd be the parents, they mentioned that maybe Xe'an was being bullied but we don't have any info on that...

We're having the Xe'an story and the brothers Bi Fu story in parallel, first time for 2 stories at once, are they connected?

okay I thought the children spoke Thai in the dream, seems like their mother is Thai

I don't fully understand, did the older brother's dead spirit make up a younger brother out of obsession? because the real didi is still alive

plsss the way Yiyong made his friends come to this fishing place and see the twins suddenly

ohhh the older brother's obsession to protect his didi created them because he didn't realize that the younger one got saved

Is the Thai dubbed? Can this actor speak Thai?

waitttt this is Nonkul according to MDL. I wonder how his Mandarin is like I could tell the Thai sounded natural but i can't really tell when Mandarin is not native sounding

What is there to investigate? I thought their dad was in jail. also who's the guy who saved him because he said that guy didn't wanna hear about their story or smth

bruhhh literally why does it not say what the grandfather had written for this kid back then? is it the same thing that Yiyong just wrote?

oh... somebody killed his brother... is it at all similar to how Xe'an died?

damnnn not the guy pursuing our Chuying being the killer ?!

get away from Yiyong!!

Ep 12 (June 12)

okayyy last episode

omg this security guard? and this scene for the guy falling is from the very beginning of the show right? I was like why is this guy's face familiar but I don't recall him being a character

so many threads, I wonder how they'll wrap everything up in the next 55 mins

oh I see, that happened to Yiyong's grandpa when his father was like 11

Owwww I knew they can't let the grandpa live but this is so

lol CPR kiss for the people who was shipping Yiyong and Guangyan

ohhhh Yiyong doesn't wanna draw comics anymore bc that's the thing that caused him to oversleep and made them late and then ended with them taking that bus. bro why am I not picking up on any subtext while watching this show?

oh that's the end? he just wakes up? sure

the "help me...." and rolling eyes is funny though

Overall:

A good watch with engaging smaller story arcs (well, some more engaging than others) that play into the larger story (I love that it relates to family), a good cast of characters, good acting, and coherent story. Although, I must say, it's not necessarily that this show is elusive or confusing but sometimes I felt like I wasn't picking up clues or subtext that I would in a different show, so idk what's up with that. I liked the concept of the calligraphy and the "obsession" where these weren't like actual ghosts but beings that were borne from obsession. I didn't really ship Yiyong and Guangyan romantically, though I thought that I would, but I liked their friendship alongwith Chuying; they're a fun trio and the characters well-realized. I will however likely not think about this show and also it was boring/repetitive sometimes.

Rating: 6.5/10

[crazyworldofemmamarie]

do you like any other older horror movies? That's a very dumb question but I'm unashamed about such things. I've rewatched some of the movies that really scared me when I was younger, and if anything they're even more scary now. I only watched 3 or 4 of the Saw films, but your blog is making me feel like looking again.

I love the entire genre, please yell at me if I mess up a reblog, or if my extensive experience in the field can help with your endeavors. I'm a John Carpenter fan from Way back; sometimes I don't know who directed what has become my favorite movie of the week and it turns out to be his...some of em aren't horror, like Starman, but it's heavy sci fi, and 80's Jeff Bridges is such a great actor...rambling with the lunatics. I like your blog! Don't fall for any of those HP Lovecraft movies; there's no sex in the books or stories so that Reanimator fool can go...sex was the selling point in the 80's though, guess it couldn't be avoided. I've read a ton; it's gotta be good for something. The way folks are saying manifest; that's made it back around after 24, 25 years. I'm tryna track something, for the good of everyone, but I'm no psychic medium, not even a small. If you think I made even a little bit of sense, I thank you for your time.

Okay! what's One movie you Won't watch, or Can't? I couldn't watch more than probably 10 minutes of High Tension, probably because I have kids, but I think that's the only one that keeps me from looking at it. Tobyn Bell should get a fun, dancing man role huh? He's pleasant to see if you ask me;) my kid's a huge Leatherface fan but they remember his name and everything. I "got" to see all the Faces of Death tapes as a teenager, we're fine, we're fine(just smile and nod)...I'm not sure how much longer I have on this earth, so I'm making it weird, and keeping it positive and spooky is challenging! But this Halloween will be my first single Halloween since lots of years ago and I am not going to let it slip past another year. My parent's were wed on Halloween, they forgot the 31st was already special, and I've always liked that memory of them making out on the couch between the trick or treat visits...anyway, have a great day, forgive me for going off on Every tangent, still looking for my pack y'know? Idk if covens advertise openings and I'm still learning to behave lmao...if intent is truly key, I am so good. My intentions are good. I'm never surprised that we get to know the "bad guys", monsters in the movies and stories that I personally can't really hate, or judge, but those are the fictional ones. Unfortunately the bad guys out here are really bad, and boringly bad. Yell at me any time, but y'know I won't hear it, lmao

Holy Moly, I am so sorry, my dumb ass basically took forever to figure out how to reply but hey I got it now, haha!

And no, don't worry about rambling I totally enjoy your stories and thoughts and I find it amazingly sweet that you even took the time to write to me, really and I am always open to chat! (And in all honesty, I am still learning to behave as it, but there's nothing wrong with having a little fun, wink wink.)

I do wanna ay I think it's super cool you're parents got married on Halloween, that's totally badass! Halloween is my favourite holiday, my Mom was super big on it because she never got to celebrate it when she was young cause she grew up super religious and it was to make up for lost time.

If I ever got married and I could convince my partner on a date, I probably pick October 1st, but in all honesty, as long as I can get married in Autumn I am totally happy. Though that's a rant for another time, haha.

Now to answer both of your questions:

I really like a lot of horror and I usually go from 1920s German Expressionism horror to present day. Though I am not gonna lie to you, I get really stuck with that late 60s/70s horror, especially that Art house horror like The Last House on the Left or I Spit On Your Grave cause I really enjoy realistic, could really happen horror, plus as a film manic, the 60s/70s had a lot of freedom with things like art and film and I just feel we get more out of that and I'm just like you where it's dirty, raw and full of sex, haha.

Though the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre from 1974 is my all time favourite horror film of all time, but I do really enjoy Last House, Spit on Your Grave, Black Christmas, The Wicker Man and all that.

80s is a hit miss for me, I'm really not a big fan of those popular slashers like Elm Street, or Child's Play or Friday the 13th, but love those somewhat terrible b movies like Sleepaway Camp or Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2.

B Movies are another big thing for me, anything from Puppet Master to Basket Case to Evil Dead.

Now to you second question, the one film I can't watch and it's one of the very few films I've seen once and it's Cannibal Holocaust. I don't know what it was, I love cannibalistic films like The Hills Have Eyes or Cannibal! The Musical; but for some reason, this film didn't sit right with me, I can't tell you if it was cause it was too realistic, too bloody or the fact that they killed real animals on camera or that in reality you don't really know who the villain's really are (that's another rant for another time, I gotta whole essay on that, yeah, I'm a loser haha). In all honesty, I think it was all of the above for me, either way I can't do it, I look away if I see even clips of it or something, though I am trying to hyper myself up and try to watch again in the future as a future film study since I believe it's on both Tubi and/or Shudder.

Either way, I thank you very much for message and posting ask! Don't be afraid to send more, I am always willing to chat, (now that I figured out how to reply) and I hope you don't mind that i post this if ya do, just shoot a me a message, but either way, thank you so much for your time!

[icestar-74]

Since the last day of Shizaya week is a free day I thought I'd share some HCs of mine. I was gonna write a quick fic but time is a funny thing.

-Many people already know this one I think but it's still my favorite. Izaya is a painter in secret. He loves art and loves to create it. Something fascinates him about the way humans can look at art and see so many different things or meanings. He just enjoys the idea that a simple paint brush and color can create an infinite amout of possibilities. He enjoys painting his favorite beast most of all.

-Shizuo loves to not be in control when they get intimate. I read a fic once about Shizuo being tied down and couldn't (he totes could be that defeated the point) break free. That idea never left my head. Shizuo enjoys being forced to not use his strength.

-Izaya doesn't show his affection too often but when he does he goes COMPLETELY overboard. During special holidays he won't just get Shizuo a treat, no, he'd buy out an entire bakery. He would rent out an whole amusement park for Shizuo if that's what the other wanted.

-They both love to watch horror movies. Izaya says he doesn't but he can't help but find the things humans do in those situations fascinating, if not dumb. Shizuo loves them because he gets to see "real" monsters and also see people doing dumb things. Of course they both highly enjoy the clinging onto each other part.

-They both love to travel and go places. Clearly because Izaya loves to people watch. But Shizuo just loves to watch him be happy. He thinks anytime Izaya smiles is a good time. He would never admit it though.

-Shizuo is 1000% a sap. My mind won't be changed. He read shitty romance stories because he never thought he'd have one of his own. Having Izaya, someone not afraid of him or afraid of getting hurt is something he cherishes more than words can say. He loves when Izaya is dumb and goes overboard with romantic gestures. He himself loves to make really stupid ones that make you gush. Like hiding Mistletoe everywhere until he can kiss Izaya or making stupid promises that only works for them.

-They love their fighting and name calling. It's theirs and theirs alone. If someone else talks shit about the other they will have a world of hurt coming.

-Izaya is constantly asking Shizuo why he stays with him. His fragile heart will never let him just accept that Shizuo is his forever. Shizuo had to keep telling him about how much he loves him. Shizuo doesn't mind doing so. Part of that whole sap thing.

Just my thoughts and rambles. Never really made an HC post. I'm sure I show more in my lil Shizaya house pics. I just adore them so much and don't care that their relationship is TOXIC af IRL because Shizaya makes me happy. My happiness is very important to me ;3

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[moxfirefly]

I have to thank @southernblossoms for this one, she got evil!Leo in my brain and he hasn’t left ever since.

TW: Violence, Gore, Blood, NSFW content below

Rated Explicit (18+ years)

“She said I'm looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

She said that I don't look like me no more, no more

I said I'm just tired”

Leonardo always knew there was an inch inside of him that was darkness.

If left alone and unchecked, it would spread. Fester like some disease and he feared that someday he’d allow it to course through his body so freely.

And let it win.

It seemed today would be that unfortunate day. A night like any other, just more bloodshed than necessary. But hey, who said they should go and kill his father? Torture him to such an extent and string up his body for his brothers and him to find.

In that very moment that inch had grown in his soul to a degree that it blinded him. All he knew was to destroy, to hurt and erase those who had done this. He felt so cold, hands cupping his fathers motionless bloodied feet, the gentle tapping of blood and the cries of his brothers echoing in his ears.

So when Leo stood, bloodied (not bathed in his own), holding the head of the monster responsible, how could he regain peace? This had only brought a momentary second of reprieve and it was so fleeting. He looked into Shredder’s lifeless eyes, numbness spreading but a need that had started out as an inch. A need to kill everyone who had been part of this, directly or indirectly.

They all deserved so much worse.

They all deserved death.

Slow and torturous.

He had disappeared after that night. His brothers knew that this was the end of their leader, of their beloved brother who wanted to believe that good in this world could prevail.

For them they never imagined that Leo would just let the darkness take hold of him, nestle him with such a loving embrace. For him to embrace it right back felt justified, for his brothers it painted the gory picture of things to come.

They never expected to meet him in the opposition. To view him as foe and not family. Leonardo had quickly taken hold of the scum of the earth. He had molded the darkness to serve him.

Raphael thought Shredder was their worst enemy.

He never expected to have Leo claim that spot in a matter of months.

The Foot had fallen under his ruling, and he wasted no time in setting examples, and the bloody path those examples left behind never seized to churn the brothers stomachs.

There was no means of bringing him back, and perhaps it’s for the better.

Because whatever has eaten away inside of Leonardo cannot simply be flushed out of his body, nor ripped from his very soul. The body counts too high by now as he strays further and further away from what he was taught.

From what his father taught him...

_______________

You run with the unsavories. An eat or be eaten mentality that has caused you to survive years and years of gang wars and mutant freaks. Not like you’d throw about that last bit, much less when you’re standing single file, close to pissing yourself because he’s there.

And Christ he’s a sight to behold.

A rumor, a legend, a monster.

You tell him you’ve got valuable info, you know where to follow the trail that’ll lead to success. Even when your partner tries to push his chin up in front of Leonardo, you’re already wincing at what his demise will be shaped in.

Leo really loves cutting heads off.

A strong emphasis on loves.

You swallow, eyes flying anywhere but the rapidly growing puddle of blood that approaches your feet. Even then, your eyes stray towards the newest leader of the Foot, Leo punctures his katana into the head, a crude skewer as he lifts it and examines the severed body part as if answers lie in the gush of blood that falls. Those dark blue eyes move on you, you swallow.

He walks over to you, blade in hand, blood tap tapping onto the ground “Your information” Leo’s voice is weightless, bored almost. You motion towards your pocket, the crumpled up note with a poorly drawn map the key to your salvation. Leo reaches his hand in and you’re still, stiff and frightened by the intrusive touch and his proximity.

He pulls the note out and examines, the ghastly expression of horror on the decapitated head so close you can smell the coppery scent. “Can you get more of this? The coordinantes?” You crane your neck to look at him, his stature imposing. “Yeah, I’m your girl for that shit, swear on it” He flicks the blade and the sound of the head rolling makes your stomach flip flop along with it.

You feel the tip of a bloodied katana on your chin.

“Don’t make me cut off such a pretty head, hm?” You want to nod but the blade digs and Leo’s mouth twitches in something akin to a smirk. The small cut to your chin stings, but you wonder why other parts of you vibrate.

The danger, the adrenaline, Leonardo.

_____________

Your next meeting doesn’t quell your nervousness. Leonardo is an impressive sight as always and it’s imposible to ignore that maybe you won’t make it out alive every time you both meet. Unless proven useful, which you take to heart. You bring all sorts of information, names, rumors, possible gangs wanting to take him on, the police. Any word you heard in regards to him.

“It’s possible they might try to meet you half way, catch you off guard” The warehouse is chilly, that fall weather starting to hit but Leo’s unfazed, the black tails of his mask move with the gust of winds. “Stupid of them to assume that” The second floor of the warehouse seems to be his own, leaving the rest of the crew bellow. He sits on the windowsill, cloth running up his katana, it had been bloody when you were brought in.

“I’m just repeating what I heard, I’m sure you’re more than adept to take them on” You stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket, you’d been frisked not like you were stupid enough to bring a weapon to this.

But then again, the more he polished that sword, the more you wished you had something.

“What else have you heard? Any word on Karai?” The woman in question had appeared to have disappeared into thin air after Shredder’s death and Leo taking command of the Foot soldiers. Wether she planned to reclaim what was hers or if she had simply quit was beyond you and anybody else. “Nothing on her, she might’ve skipped town or the country” You offered, eyes following the sword as Leo placed it on a nearby table.

“She strike you as the type? A coward?” He walked over towards you, his expression so eerily unreadable.

Yet, your eyes wandered over him. Over muscle and scales. Overs scars and bruises. That illogical part of your brain making you wonder and fantasize, because fear could be exciting.

There was something exciting about Leonardo.

“Well?” He was in front of you, looking down at you. It hits you how minuscule you must look to him.

“Probably plotting? You did murder her dad” You find his eyes, you swallow.

“Well he murdered mine. Eye for an eye...” He spoke gently almost.

“Makes the whole world go blind” You finished for him, and maybe that was stepping on a line but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a brief second you catch his eyes scan yours, move across your face and settle at your lips.

Passed your neck, towards your breasts.

He turns around and grabs his sword.

“One week, find more info on her, your pay is downstairs” You’re dismissed and before you process anything a Foot soldier is ushering you downstairs and shoving an envelope in your hands.

That night you dream about what your lips might feel like against reptilian scales.

—————————

Karai’s whereabouts are practically unheard off. If there was a trail it had run cold months back and judging from the word of mouth being passed around there wasn’t anything sustainable. You dig up anything and everybody. Every dirt bag with an agenda, ex Foot soldiers, opposing gangs, the mob and just about anybody you have in your radar.

It yields nothing.

You can’t return to Leo with nothing.

Rubbing a hand across your tired face, you make your way through the back alleys of the city. Your one week was coming up and all you had were weak possibilities and baseless assumptions. In your line of business enough information to create doubt can go a long way, but this was conspiracy levels bad.

So you thought and you thought quick.

Pulling out your phone you called him first. Perhaps a dumb move but at the same time you figured it showed that you were trying. You asked if the two of you could meet, the line briefly went quiet before your text tone startled you. He hung up and you were met with the address of a building in Brooklyn and to go up to the roof.

To say you were scared was to put it lightly.

You were shitting yourself.

The roof of the building had a green house which seemed unused but it looked like it was being kept up with the vegetation still green and alive. Your hand made for the door knob but something you could only name as a sixth sense made you freeze.

Leo was there, the shift in the atmosphere was impossible to deny. Your turned and blinked.

Wherever he had been, it must’ve been worse. There was blood on him, a fresh gash by his arm and the steady drip drip of blood hitting the concrete. “Jesus are you...?” You knew he was ok, but whomever had been on the receiving end of this had it by far much worse.

“Inside, go inside” He motioned for the green house and you did. Your eyes scanned around hoping to find something to help with. There was a nest of sorts in a corner, several blankets and cushions, a table and a chair amidst the plants. You found what you were looking for near the bonsais, a shelf with a box of first aid. Leo went towards a counter with a basin and a jar of water, he went about cleaning the gash on his arm.

You approached him with the box of first aid, blue eyes were cautious as you took out antiseptic and gauze. Leo had turned to face you, giving you more room to work on his arm as you bandaged it. “You alright?” Your voice held hesitation, Leo’s questioning gaze turned to amusement. “I’m fine, what I want to know is why you wanted to meet” You finished bandaging him and took a step back.

Pick your words wisely, you thought with a slight shutter.

“Listen I’ve spoken with any and everyone who might have any clue but Karai is off the radar”Swallowing a lump in your throat you shrugged off your jacket, worry manifesting in heat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and I’m really fucking good at my job but this bitch is either underground or who knows! Dead for all I know!” The exasperation and worry was clear as day, he either took this the right way or the wrong way.

Wrong way being you end up pushed off this very building, at best ironically enough.

Leo swallowed the information, clearly bouncing it around his head. The dry specks of blood scattered across his green flesh. An odd silence fell amongst you both and even when he rose in all his imposing glory you kept your eyes focused on him. Getting a read on that cold calculated gaze of his was hard enough.

Your throat feels painfully dry once he has you backed up against the wall. Something about dying alone with not even an audience to witness it didn’t sit too right with you.

But then again, Leo’s large hand gripped your neck, nothing too tight but enough to alert you to its presence. Those blue eyes looked haunted but just beneath that laid something you couldn’t just place your finger on. The tips of his fingers lightly caressed you, one of them fascinated with your quickened pulse. You can’t blink, unsure what may happen and when he dips down your adrenaline makes you flinch.

Leo halts his movement, his blood feels like it’s pumping loudly enough for you to hear. Wide eyed you lean up instead and ghost your lips against his, Leo sighs through his nostrils and it stays that way. A pull but not enough of a push because there’s still fear in your blood and a hesitation that you can’t put a name to from Leonardo.

Your phone going off startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin and to a fraction of your dismay Leo takes a step away. One of your contacts name flashed on the screen which meant there could still be some good news. Your turned away to speak, pulling a marker from your pocket you write down some information on your forearm. It’s a quick conversation and once done you turn to see Leo putting together his gear again.

You bit your lip, whatever was about to happen would just have to take a back seat. ‘Fucking coward’ you can’t help but think about yourself.

“One of my guys says he might have it on good authority that Karai is still here” You watch him turn his head to listen, even if he’s got his back/shell to you. “Well?” He pushes while adjusting his swords.

“He says she might’ve just met up with...with one of your brothers” Tense doesn’t even begin to explain what his body did, the mear mention of his family was a sore subject and you had been warned to not even attempt to open that can of worms. Swallowing and feeling your throat stick from how dry it felt you see him pull out a key and toss it to you. “Send me that address, you’ll get your money at the warehouse” You barely manage to catch the key to the greenhouse, but still you raise a brow at the offering.

“Come back here when you’re ready” Is all he says about it, confusion is painted on your face but when he moved to leave he takes a moment to hold your chin. “Don’t make me regret this” He says and before you can attempt to ask he’s gone.

You stay there, twenty minutes or so in nothing but your thoughts and his words swimming around your mind.

Feeling heat between your legs and a lick of frustration consuming you.

_____________

Two weeks you contemplate the key in your pocket.

Two weeks you let your thumb hover over his number but never press down.

For two weeks you find your pillow between your legs, trying to reach the sensation he managed with just his body close to yours.

But nothing.

It’s not enough.

New York is covered in rain as you make your way through the sea of people. Regardless of the many umbrellas you still get soaked and by the time you’re up on that roof, hand digging out the key to the green house you’re drenched.

Inside you shake off the excess and remove your jacket. The cold hits you and you can’t help but feel silly that you’re here, maybe this is his way of taking you out, you’re not needed anymore by now you assume.

You turn on the few lanterns that are scattered through the room. Kicking off your boots you rub your arms and shiver, flesh breaking out into goosebumps as the door creaks open once more.

Leo’s equally drenched when he steps through, the black tails of his mask sticking to him. The two of you just stare at one another, steady drips of water and the rain outside picking up more strengh.

Carefully you watch him begin take apart his gear, leaving his katanas by the door. He’s trying to keep your apprehension at low levels, his steps slow and soft. You let your arms fall to your sides and as your heart tries to hammer out of your chest you don’t flinch this time, even as his hands go for the hem of your long sleeve. You take a deep breath as his eyes wander across your now exposed flesh. The fascination goes straight to your core, feeling yourself warm up as his hands rest on your stomach.

With trembling hands you unbutton your jeans and step out of them and the inhale Leo takes as he closes his eyes makes you reach for him. He holds you against him and sighs, large frame shuddering at the feel of your skin against his reptilian one. He buries his snout against your neck, breathing harder as his hands run all over your back and rear. Leo grips and kneads the flesh and a groan escapes against your ear that makes your wrap your arms around his neck. He feels the softness of your breasts against his chest, he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been dreaming about them for months now.

You can’t wrap your head around it but he feels just as you fantasized about him. The roughness of his flesh, the edges of his shell and god his teeth nip at your neck with a growl. Wiggling out of his hold you start to undo whatever else needs to be taken off and Leo can’t help but smirk at your frenzied movements. He allows you to undress him, he’s gutted when your hands land on his waist as you start to kneel before him.

“No, no, kiss me first” He cups your face and presses his mouth against yours and that’s it, you’re done for, you’re hooked and can’t go back now. His kiss is possessive, forceful and it drowns every thought in your brain.

You pressed against one of the tables with the many Bonsais when Leo’a tongue slithers into your awaiting mouth. He sits you down on the table and nudges your legs apart to fit himself in between them, you crane your neck up losing yourself in his kiss. He can taste rain water, feels the sweat and rain mingle on your skin. God he wants to run his tongue all over you, eat you whole if he could.

It feels like forever when he pulls away, reluctance in his body. Blue eyes search into your e/c eyes, he wants to see something maybe your fear so he denies himself falling into this rabbit hole. Your hands press against his plastron and gently you run your nails down the hard plates, you shake your head fascinated by the texture. He’s rough but strong, a marvel of a species.

With some difficulty you managed to push your underwear off and spread yourself again for his viewing pleasure. “I want you,” You nodded, eyes falling to the hard length between his legs. Leo wraps a large hand around it and pumps slowly, body shivering at the sensation. “God I fucking want you so bad” You feel him come back to you, mouth on yours in yet another harsh kiss.

The tip of his cock nudges against your wet heat and he bites your lip at the sensation. Leo pushes into you so frustratingly slow, even as his girth stretches you to a point you’ve never been before. You want him inside of you now, and Leo couldn’t agree more. He bottoms out inside of you with a lengthy groan, head thrown back in ecstasy. “You feel... so fucking good” He growls out through gritted teeth, hips picking up speed as you wantonly take him in. You press your lips to his chest and moan with each slow but pronounced thrust of his hips.

His hand finds itself at the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to keep your gaze on his. The slight tug burns so good and you can’t help but keep your pleasure filled gaze on his own. Lips parted you let him rock into you steadily until his thrust start to slam into you. The sensation spreads all over your body, little shocks of pleasure rocking your body.

“Mine, you’re going to be mine and only mine” He voices lowly, a threat laced in his passion. You’re too far gone to speak, nodding aimlessly at his every word, moans falling from your lips. “Nobody will own you like I do, nobody will touch you, Y/N? You understand? I’m making you mine” He pressed his forehead to yours, lost in this feeling.

“Fuck yes, yours, I’m gonna be all yours” You lick his lips and when he reaches a hand between both your bodies your mind goes blank. A vicious shudder overtakes you as you muffle a scream against his jaw. He fills you up so good and so warm with a strange vibration that sounds like an endless growl. Each rope he pumps into you making his eyes roll back. You’re shattered against, limp and raw throat from the scream that leaves your mouth.

He watches your come down, hand against your cheek, thumb running across your lips. When he pulls out just enough to watch his essence cascade out of your pretty little hole, he pumps himself back into you. His eyes say it all, from here on out whatever your life was up to this point is over and done with. Leo nuzzles you still lazily pumping himself in you, blissful to the little tremors your cunt produces around his member making him harden once again. Picking you up, bodies still joined, he makes his way to the nest of blankets on the floor.

You hold onto him, all you can do is hold onto him.

____________

It’s rather odd to be in this position. With an entire year that’s passed it never seems to feel normal, not that you’re complaining though.

Being in a position of power by proxy has its fucking fun rewards.

For example nobody in this city will ever contemplate taking you out. Unless they want a very pissed off Foot Leader to set fire to the city and maybe even the world. From opposite points to now standing at his side. No one is to address you as below them, or touch you or let alone breath the same air you do.

You can still hear the bones that were cracked when one particularly unruly Foot soldier made snide comment about you. Each crack of the mans arm being slowly twisted until his arm broke still rang in your ears to this day. Leo hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even scowled even as the twist turned to pulling the limb off.

He did in fact fuck you hard against the glass windows of the hotel suite he had you both in. The copper scent lingering on his scales, but enraptured with the heat enveloping his cock.

With the city at war everyone had began to run amok to do their own barbaric things. Each part of the city divided between gangs, mobs, mutants, police and civilians. You were out on active Foot duties, you were still free to do as you pleased but with protection and Leo demanded your whereabouts on the hour due to possibilities of abduction.

He knew you were a weakness.

But did he give a shit? Of course not. Let them try, he hasn’t needed an excuse for his tyrannical acts thus far, but if harm did ever befall you, you only wished you could witness what his methods would be to exact his revenge.

And he was so familiar with revenge after all.

You admire yourself in the full length mirror, examining the body that training under Leo has provided you. The mutant terrapin in question comes up from behind you and wraps his strong sculpted arms around your waist. You can’t help but smirk as he rest his chin a top your head. “We’re heading out in half an hour” He mumbles against your hair, enjoying the scent. You watch through the mirror as his hands rub up and cup your breast, with a sigh you rest against his strong build. “What’s on the agenda tonight? Purple dragons?” You feel him shake his head, fingers dipping inside the cups of your bra. “Mob,” Is his sole reply.

You bite your lip, gripping his wrists. “We’ll be late” You try to muffle a moan as he tweaks a nipple, he grinds against your backside. “I’m killing them regardless, and I much rather have the scent of your cunt on my hands while I listen to their boring excuses for parley” Your knees buckled when you felt his hand slither inside your underwear, finger already parting your lips and humming as he feels how wet you already are.

You feel his other hand wrap around your neck, keeping you upright and your gaze on the mirror as his finger dips into your welcoming heat.

He engulfs your every thought, every sensation; and what’s the fate of the world when you’ve got him? He chose you just as much as you chose him. You’ve never considered yourself good, scumbag street rat who just happened to make a living amongst the other scumbags. But this? With Leonardo and the trail of bloodied heads he’s left behind, it’s hard not to be excited to see gasoline be poured on the city. He trails his lips to the shell of your ear and you can’t help but grin.

“Mine” He says.

Burn everything.

[citowon]

spring troupe and gender neutral s/o watch horror movies

about time i finally write for this blog... i was hit with the image of masumi watching a horror movie with his s/o, thought how lovely it would be if there was content of that, then realized i have that power now

word count: 1,935

tags: established relationship, non-detailed mentions of horror themes (gore, monsters, etc)

sakuya sakuma

🌸 when the topic of a horror movie date first comes up, he’s a bit scared. he’s only seen a couple, one of which was for mankai play research.

🌸 when it’s actually showing, though, he’s pretty calm! the anticipation was the worst part, and he somehow doesn’t get scared even during the most terrifying movie of the year. he’s great at reminding himself it’s just fictional in the end

🌸 vampires? not scary. aliens? he thinks they’re cute! gore? well, yeah, it’s unnerving at first but it’s all fake, and once he reminds himself of that he’s fine

🌸 he gets scared at the littlest things though. there might be a continuity error where a knife is in its holder on the counter in one shot and then removed the next, and no one in the movie acknowledges it nor is it supposed to mean anything but he can and will psych himself out thinking about just what moved it

🌸 king of predicting plot twists! he might be very good at spotting continuity errors, but he’s even better at picking out little bits of foreshadowing and putting together the mystery

🌸 gets spooked the most by jumpscares. every time he squeaks a bit (on really bad ones he might scream) and every time he always does the same embarrassed sigh afterwards and goes to squeeze your hand to calm himself

🌸 psychological horror is definitely the best pick for sakuya. he thinks a lot about what’ll happen next in the movie and loves to discuss about movies with you regardless of the genre, so with thought-provoking psychological films it fits him like a glove

🌸 and hey, if things ever get too intense he loves b-list horror movies! he thinks the bad acting is endearing and always finds something to compliment even with the trashiest, corniest flick

🌸 if you ever get uncomfortable, he might commentate in the movie and try to poke fun at it- i mean, the killer clown is kind of funny! look how bright and colorful it is compared to the rest of the set! he keeps his voice light and sunny so you have something comforting to concentrate on

masumi usui

🎧 he loves the idea of horror night. cuddling with you, holding you protectively as the suspense rises, stealing kisses to distract you from the monster and erase your fear...

🎧 he’s only seen a few horror movies in his life, less than the fingers he has on one hand, but whatever. it’s a movie. it’s not real. if he got too immersed he could just tell himself it’s fake and be done with it.

🎧 spoiler alert: he didn’t.

🎧 masumi did not, and i repeat, did NOT expect to get so invested??? even if you’re scared, he’s definitely the most terrified

🎧 that’s not to say he’ll show it. he’s doing everything to keep a neutral face, and you’ll probably assume he’s holding to you tighter during the scary parts like he’s protecting you.

🎧 (it’s actually because you’re the one [1] thing grounding him. you’re protecting him, not the other way around! in hindsight, he likes being cared for even when he thought he’d be the one spoiling you, not the other way around. he just wishes it didn’t have to be during such a scary movie, that’s all)

🎧 will take his fear to the grave... unless you ask him directly about it. please hold him and tell him the monsters aren’t real, even though he’s a heavy sleeper he will stay up until 3 am, his mind reminding him how creepy the movie was every time he’s about to drift off

🎧 so does not fuck with ghosts, if he didn’t believe in them before he certainly does now. the poor guy looks up how to ward away spirits and ends up carrying around a salt packet on him for the next two weeks

tsuzuru minagi

📖 tsuzuru’s not exactly a horror fan. he claims it’s brainless and pointless

📖 (admittedly he’s a little scared of them, but he still thinks they’re dependent on shock alone, and have zero rewatch value since the writing is more focused on in-the-moment spooks than actual plot.)

📖 he’ll roll his eyes and tease you a little but eventually he’ll go along with watching a horror movie

📖 to psych himself out of his fear tsuzuru decides to watch them critically and note what plot points to do (or more likely not to do) for future plays

📖 this works out for the beginning but by the middle of the movie he’s enraptured. he can’t tell if it’s actually good or if it’s a car wreck he can’t help but watch

📖 does the corny move where he yawns and wraps an arm around you, and you’d almost buy it from his earlier cynicism but then the killer shows their face and he tenses up like hell and you just know

📖 gets embarrassed every time he’s scared- he even turns pink, and gets even redder if you try to hold his hand or cuddle him closer (even though there’s nothing he’d want more after something that creepy)

📖 by the end he’s got a few new ideas that might go to autumn or winter troupe’s latest plays, and admits okay, fine, maybe horror isn’t so pointless after all

itaru chigasaki

🎮 screw movies, you’re playing horror games instead!

🎮 most of itaru’s horror games are single-player, so one of you takes the controller while the other sits next to the player, but itaru’ll drape his arms around you from behind in a back hug the entire time you play

🎮 he doesn’t really shut up. the entire time, he’s either cracking a joke or trying to freak you out more, if only so he doesn’t get in his head and overthink the creepy atmosphere

🎮 asshole only quiets down when the game gets tense, and then suddenly puts his hands around your shoulders or neck to scare you. regardless if you fall for it or not, he always laughs at himself and just-so-happens to break the tension as a scary cutscene plays

🎮 still commentates when he’s the player, but gasps or jumps even at small atmospheric scares

🎮 itaru definitely overthinks the game. he gets super cautious over tiny details and makes the missions way harder than they should be since he keeps overestimating the enemy line of sight and how noisy the avatar is

🎮 if you happen to be playing a co-op horror it’s a constant “no u” battle over who should do the scariest tasks

🎮 “reader, we need to cleanse the room next. you should do it” “no, you should do it. you have the quartz item remember” “i can give it to you since you have the ghost ward” “the ghost ward doesn’t apply to this quest, besides, you’re better at this ghost attack quick time event than me” “no it does, and you’re more optimized” “i can just give the items to you-“ “no you should do it” “no you” “no you” “no you” “no y-”

🎮 you both lose

citron

🍋 citron loves horror movies! he thinks they’re... comforting?

🍋 turns out he’s only seen movies about cursed dolls and b-horror, which explains a lot- he loves dolls too much to be scared by them and he thinks b-list horror is hilarious- but he’ll still proudly proclaim he’s unflappable and swear to protect you from the bad guys

🍋 when you’re actually watching the movie you can’t tell if he’s faking his reactions or not. he’s very noisy

🍋 he gets scared enough during the gruesome and horrific scenes to hold you close and tight like a teddy bear, and during the worst of it he might muffle a scream by diving into the crook of your neck, obscuring his vision until the scene changes

🍋 and yet, he laughs at the next scene’s unrealism, and manages to poke enough fun at the movie that you giggle and his terror disappears, he loves your laugh way more than he can be afraid of monsters

🍋 can’t do gore for the life of him, but when it comes to the actual plot, he’s rather critical of characters acting dumb. he catches on to nonsensical writing quick, but usually asks you to clarify the plot holes before realizing that he found a loophole in the writing

🍋 whenever you’re scared and not even his goofy reactions and commentary can help, he plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, strokes your hair, and holds you close to his chest until the fear goes away. he’s surprisingly good at protecting you from the movie

🍋 after the movie he’ll say his country has a similar legend to the movie monsters, but he claims the legends are true in zafra, and zafrans have a very specific tradition to prevent the monsters from attacking them

🍋 the movie also gave citron the idea of creepily standing behind you silently until you turn around and get startled, or occasionally chanting in a strange, cultish language and pretending he didn’t say a thing, or making a doll with the same markings as the clown puppet from the movie...

🍋 citron continues to be even scarier than the actual horror movie, but can’t wait until the next horror night! maybe watching it was a bad idea after all...

chikage utsuki

🌙 chikage just doesn’t get the appeal of horror. it’s just a fake movie, why do people get so creeped out by terrible sfx and unrealistic monsters?

🌙 he’s seen scarier things than any werewolf pack, zombie outbreak, or witch coven can throw at him. if you insist on watching a scary movie, fine, he’ll be happy to let you sit on his lap, just don’t expect to creep him out as well, or else you’ll be sorely disappointed.

🌙 he analyzes the movie more than he watches it, but doesn’t speak up even though the fight scenes look pitiful. if this were real life, he’d sweep the whole brood of shambling monstrosities in record time and be back home in time for izumi’s curry

🌙 chikage runs his hands under your shirt whenever the monster’s on screen to scare you. it’s actually really creepy- his fingers are light and quick and always makes you flinch, even if you know it’s just your boyfriend

🌙 he’ll listen to your thoughts about the movie, but doesn’t have strong opinions himself. he thinks the scares are mediocre at best, even without considering his background, but won’t mention how unrealistic it was unless you mention it first.

🌙 psychological horror, however, is a whole different story

🌙 maybe chikage can’t get scared by generic spirit halloween monsters but once you introduce thought-provoking plot, questions and dilemmas, now he’s hooked

🌙 he really likes wondering if the protagonist is actually the good guy and making theories about the origins of the monsters and why they’re so destructive, even if he forgets about them once the movie’s over.

🌙 love love looooves the “the monsters were harmless creatures before humans dished out the first blow” trope. he knows how common it is, but there’s a lot of ways to go about it, especially on a subtextual level, and he just can’t get enough

🌙 the deeper the plot is, expect a longer conversation about the ins and outs of it. they get surprisingly thoughtful and introspective, even if chikage throws in a few bullshit stories related to the movie just to watch you squirm

[hohoz]

How RE Village (8) SOLVED almost every problem that I had with RE Series

Okay - a few weeks ago I made a post that was “The ones that suffer the most” where I showed and explained my main problems with Chris and Jill and the RE series in general 

RE 1 is my fav game of this series and probably one of my all time favs, I player every RE there is to be played except 4 (because I dislike Leon, sry) 

Recently, specially after 4, the franchise had a few problems, specially in writing/map design/lore 

Resident evil 5 for example (I love this game) but it has it flaws, Chris there is only driven by anger and action - Sheva is used as a tool for lore exposition and to be Chris’s new partner 

PLEASE: be aware that game at that generation didn’t have much lore - with some exceptions, like God of War 1 2 3 were a simply game with a simple lore, and the most recent GoW has evolved a little bit in the storytelling

Until we hit rock bottom in RE6 - I know a lot of people like this game, but this is only and action game, bad writing and generic stages. 

Chris there is so mistreated that makes me mad (if you want to read more about this go to my other post “the ones that suffer the most”)

Until RE7 appeared, Capcom had a new engine and they wanted to do a game that was more horror like - since RE is know for being a Survival horror game.

I liked 7 - some people complained about Ethan being without emotion and others complained about the mold, a few didn’t like the FEAR vibes from Eveline. 

I personally enjoyed the game, I thought RE series was going back on track, that game has it’s problems but it was really nice compared to what we had in 6.

After that game I had a conversation with my best friend and I said that I wanted a game that portrayed Umbrella’s fall since the only game that shows this is Umbrellas Chronicles (and that is most a resume of what happened)

And I said: “Bro, I wish that when they made that game, they could tie some mythological lore and human evolution before Umbrella - using Spencer, this would solve LOT OF STUFF and open new ways to handle this series”

and guess what - this happened in RE8 and kudos to the one writer that did that, i have my gratitude. 

RESIDENT EVIL 8 is probably one of the BEST RE games that we had IN YEARS

And I want to address all thing that I loved in this game and do some predictions to what will happen in the next games.

“WELL WELL IF IT ISN’T ETHAN WINTERS” (The Father of the year)

My father was not a great guy... really, so I want to be the best dad ever, I really want be like Ethan - a guy who is ready to sacrifice and fight every monster in the way to save my family. 

Ethan was a character that in RE7 was used to make us fell like that it was us in the Baker’s house, so that is why he didn’t had that much personality (in my opinion) but they changed that in RE8, here he has nice dialogues AND a diary 

He has one of the best story line in the whole REverse, a guy that did EVERYTHING in his power to save his daughter - and you saw that playing the game, every sentence line that he delivered, he tried to save others too and even tho Chris said to him stay put ... but he couldn’t, he had to go to the altar, he had to help Chris, he had to go forward and keep going, specially after having the tools to face Heisenberg. 

The plea from a father, that was his last wish, after he heard that Mia was alive he knew that someone had to stop that monster, he made a promise to his daughter “Daddy won’t let those weird fairy tale monsters get you” so he trusted Chris, to be the one that teaches his kid how to be brave and strong

I will not address Chris and Rose situation here because this is Ethans part and he deserves completely all the spotlight, his sacrifice was 100x times better than Steve (CV)/Piers(6)

My cheers to Ethan Winters - You have my respect !

Revelations -> RE8 

So leaks from earlier times said that RE8 sucked and Revelations 3 was amazing

Revelations FYI is know for using old tales in RE stories 

Revelations 1 - Dante’s Inferno 

Revelations 2 - Frans Kafka 

Revelations 3 - Dracula 

But since RE8 sucked, Capcom said to the REV3 team that they could make REV3 become RE8 and they accepted 

Revelations series is one of the best in the games, they handle Jill in a way that I love, Claire and even Barry - so they deserve all the spotlight for making this awesome game - you CLEARLY can see that they love this series and that they treat all the characters with the love that they deserve. 

Keeping that in mind, they are the same team that made Rev 2 and in REV 2 we have this file here 

So they had a plan for Jill and we can see that in RE8 - I will address that later but keep that in mind - this team cares for the old characters, they were the ones that brought Barry back to the games :V 

Chris Redfield 

This is a hard one, because he is my fav character and I usually have the most critics regard him, since I’ve expect a lot from Capcom 

In the latest games they made him kind dumb, only muscles type of guy and an alcoholic that let all the people in his surroundings die (RE5,RE6,Vendetta) 

RE6 treats him the WORST

But in RE8 he had an amazing part in the storyline, it was obvious that he wasn’t evil and they FIXED HIS EYE COLOR - FINALLY 

I still don’t like the model face that much but it’s way better than 7 - so I believe Capcom, I still feel that he need more jawline 

But let’s go to the most important thing - here he really feels like a squad leader and a veteran, he has his team but he is the one in the front line, he covers and ask for help when he needs, everything about his line delivery makes you feel like “Woah, this guy is a badass, he is not some stupid guy only driven by emotions”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FINALLY GETTING THIS RIGHT 

If you remember my post about the ones that suffer the most / Jill is also in that list and I will talk about her a little bit later but if my guess is right RE8 saved her character aswell

Another thing that I enjoyed here is the fact that he is kind of a mercenary / Neo Umbrella kind of guy, even tho he is one of the founders of the BSAA

So I will give you all my score to this game: 

9/10

I won’t give 10/10 because of some technical issues, the cursor lock didn’t work and mouse sensitivity was i dunno, not the best. 

RE8 and the future (PREDICTIONS)  - Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, BSAA, Neo Umbrella, Ada Wong and Rosemary

First let’s look Rose

The first time I saw Rose all grown up - I thought to myself : She has the same problem as Eveline (age a lot faster than normal) 

But she also absorbed Miranda’s power since the metalicite (something like this) thought that she was a better host. - so maybe she will live longer or something because I doubt that they will do a 14 years time skip. 

This is not the same as Terra Save logo (Claire’s job) but it kind reminds me of it - her shoes appeared at least 3 times in this cut scene so maybe they are trying to show some hints with this 

She really reminds me of Jodie (Beyond two souls, a game where a girl has a lot of power and the gov uses her in missions and stuff, but she also is learning how to be her own person) 

Another thing here is that they don’t have a logo in this car, it really reminds me the car that Chris as using in RE8 

This supports the theory that Chris’s organization is dealing with her instead of the BSAA, the she is a hot headed girl and that she had a lot of powers. 

So here you can say that she is just a kid because she is a teenager, but what if she actually grows older really fast (like Eveline) maybe this is just 1 year later / 2 yrs later. (after RE8)

So this is the tricky part, this is Chris’s guard/soldier, someone that Chris trust to stand by her side, in my mind I do believe that Chris is kind of a father figure to her, so when this guys says this he is thinking about hot head Chris but she replies “Yeah” thinking about Ethan - (she has the mold memories, so she can actually remember Ethan’s memories) 

Now let’s look at this 

BSAA 

So in REV1 is hinted that BSAA is not the best organization in the world, but since our heroes work there we think that they are the good guys right ? 

In REV 2 (it’s important to remember that the team that created RE8 is the same from the REVELATIONS and they had this file here in REV2)

This email is from Jill and what does Jill have ? T-Virus 

Wesker is a different case since he was a project and she had the vaccine but this would make a lot of sense if they had this tests with Jill to get the T-Virus

If that is the case, they explained Jill’s absence in the main games, could even explain why Chris left BSAA and opened a new window to a lot of possibilities 

My Predictions: 

- Chris had trouble dealing with BSAA and Jill’s case, he wanted to get her out of there, maybe he removed her from there but that resulted in him being expelled from the force

-Jill may or may not know what they are doing with her blood, but she will have a huge part in the BOW used by BSAA 

-Chris is married to Jill (sorry- I had to place this here, in a perfect world he has two kids with her and they all love aunt Rose) 

-Chris will hopefully be a father figure to Rose and they will be in a game together since in the end they came to get her

-Rebecca is still involved in BSAA activities (leak from new REV3) if you consider Vendetta canon, she maybe the one that used Jill’s sample of blood to create the virus soldiers

-Barry maybe retired 

-I don’t think Leon will be in this game, but he will get his RE4 Rmk 

- I do believe RE9 will be release after Code veronica rmk and MAYBE they will do a game about Umbrella’s Fall (Chris and Jill in Europe against Red Queen and BOWs) 

But that is it, you can see a lot of elements from old RE games in RE8, they tried to do something really smart and the game felt amazing to play, that was something else and it’s been a while since a player a RE game that made me feel that way <3

[itslieutenanthawkeye]

Three Firsts

Day 2 of Jeankasa Week 2021: First Kiss

Ao3

There are different types of first kisses: The one at the beginning of a relationship. The one to seal a relationship forever. The one to welcome a new life into a relationship.

Another nightmare. Three years, and they haunted him at least thrice a week –the faces of his fallen comrades, the millions of children stomped into the ground, the thousands of families left without a home to return to. He faced them in his nightmares; they accused him of not having seen the signs in Eren earlier, they accused him for not running after him the day he’d left, for not forcing him to tell Mikasa -once and for all- how he felt about her.

Perhaps this was why he’d become so dead set with Armin’s ideals of peace. He wanted to help the world and the island, yes, but above all, Jean wanted absolution.

“Jean,” a voice called, and in the crowd of millions pointing fingers at him, Jean recognized it immediately. His friends’ voices anchored him to sanity, but this particular voice was also anchored in his heart. “Jean, wake up.”

Jean came back onto his senses. He’d fallen asleep at his study table in the royal library, where most of them spent their time now that the negotiations had started. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands and stretched against the chair; budgeting wasn’t his forte…nor was it to try and convince a rich western president to spare scraps for the refugees. But Armin had trusted him with the tasks and Jean couldn’t let him down. Besides, he didn’t have the heart to leave all the work to his negotiations partner, who had surprised them all with her abilities with numbers.

“Hey,” Mikasa said to his right, reaching out to graze his arm with the palm of her hand. Jean jolted in his seat, confused at the sight of her. Mikasa drew her hand away and recoiled, and he wanted to slap himself in the face for his stupid reaction. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice.” He hurried to say. Mikasa’s lips formed an O and nodded, looking more relieved that he hadn’t been terrified of seeing her. Jean smiled, noticing her rucksack lying on the table…and the empty tables around. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, almost.”

“Huh?” Jean said, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here? Wasn’t Armin leaving at six today?”

Mikasa shook her head. “He left at five,” she corrected, giving him a sideways glance. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I didn’t want you to walk back alone.”

Jean’s heart leaped in his chest, and he pictured a small rabbit bouncing inside his torso. He shouldn’t be surprised, his mind reminded his heart. They’d exchanged letters before his arrival, they’d been comrades at arms in the battlefield, they’d stopped the end of the world together. Of course, she would be concerned about him. That didn’t mean she felt anything special for him.

Friendship love was still love. He didn’t aspire to anything else. Five months had passed since their arrival, and he was content with just spending time by her side, seeing her smile come onto her more and more naturally.

“Buses aren’t running anymore, are they?” Jean guessed.

“Last one must be leaving now. Historia took the last royal car about an hour ago,” Mikasa said, looking at the pocket watch Armin had brought for her from the continent. “It’s going to be a long walk back.”

Jean sighed and gave her an apologetic look. Historia had given them rooms in one of the newest buildings in the district, with beautiful views of the countryside and rivers and only a fifteen minute drive away from her own residence…and a whole hour walk away from the royal palace. “I’m sorry, Mikasa. You shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“It’s alright.” Mikasa replied, coming to her feet, grabbing the pink cardigan she’d laid out on her table. “We need to get going, though, before all the drunk people come out of the pubs.”

“Allow me,” he said, standing from his chair and taking the cardigan from her hands. She blinked up at him, almost startled, and Jean had to chuckle. “Turn around, please.”

She did as he requested, and Jean helped her put her arms into the sleeves, then flattened the wrinkled fabric on her shoulders. Mikasa looked at him over her shoulder, locking her eyes with his for a moment that stretched an eternity. “Thank you,” she whispered, her low voice creating a pocket universe around them even in the empty room.

“We need to get going,” Jean said, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab her backpack from the table. He focused on the books he’d laid out and began stuffing them in her bag. “Can I put these books in here? I’ll carry it for you. Mine’s already full.”

“I can carry it.”

Jean shook his head. “No, let me. I’m the one that’s taking all these books home.”

“We’re both working the budgets, Jean, I can carry my own backpack.”

“I can do it.”

Mikasa pressed her hand against the paper he’d been about to stash away, stopping him midmotion, narrowing her eyes as if examining a new life organism. “Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Not a ghost, but the outlines of his desire for her, which he’d worked so hard to suppress the past months. The impulse of kissing her overcame him whenever they did their runs to Historia’s orphanages, whenever he saw her smile and play with little Ymir and her friends (who loved clinging to her three at a time, since they knew she was the strongest around), when she was focused doing calculations he was too dumb to understand…when she spoke to him.

She’d grown so talkative the past month. At first, it had only been with him and Armin. But the more time passed, the more he noticed her opening to people. The other night, he’d seen her having dinner with Pieck, Hitch, and Annie. From their table, he and Armin had heard her laugh alongside for something Pieck had said about Annie. Later that very night, she’d walked back to their apartments with him, talking about the littlest matters and court gossip Historia filtered down to them whenever she felt bored.

Being her friend was his most precious treasure, and Jean didn’t want to ruin it by putting his romantic love for her first.

“I’m fine,” Jean replied, turning to look at her after a deep breath, counting to ten as he always did whenever he felt the urge to kiss her. The curiosity in her deep eyes pierced through him, and in the enclosed space, Jean’s almost felt as if an invisible force drew his body to hers. He straightened before he got any closer, clearing his throat yet again, ignoring the pink tint of her cheeks. “We need to get going.”

_________________________________

In the end, she hadn’t let him carry her backpack for her. He seemed tired enough as things were, and a couple of extra pounds on his back would do nothing to help his health. He ate well enough, but he never got many hours of sleep, and it concerned Mikasa. She wanted to wake him up before, at eleven, when Historia had sent her errand boys to let her know the last car was leaving the royal library…but he’d looked so cozy on the chair, she hadn’t had the heart to wake him. She’d decided to wake him until the nightmares started, certain they would catch the night bus.

Not that she didn’t enjoy walking the whole way back with him. They’d done it plenty of times these months, when their work extended long hours into the night. In most occasions, they’d walked back in a group, accompanied by the banter of Pieck and Reiner, or by Connie’s longing remarks for his girlfriend at the continent.

Besides, she’d taken a liking to dinner with Annie, Pieck and Hitch the past couple of days.

All in all, it had been a while since the last time it’d been the two of them alone on the road home. She liked being alone around Jean; his presence gave her reassurance. At first, it had been like a firm, sturdy ship that had pulled her out of a sea of monsters and terribly high waves crawling with corpses. But now he was a tree; a tall tree overflowing with beautiful ripe fruit, perfect words for any situation, with astonishingly wide branches to cover her from the searing pain of guilt and grief.

It had taken a while for his roots to take hold in her heart. But they were there, growing deeper with each day, cementing themselves further and further into her soul.

She’d felt this before, when her first home had been ripped away from her, when that little boy with the green eyes had reached out to her and offered her a new one. Back then, they’d been surrounded by so much horror that she hadn’t figured out exactly what the boy with the green eyes had meant for her. Now she was an adult, however, well past her first heartbreak, her first lost love. And she recognized the same warmth in her heart whenever she looked into the hazel speckled eyes of the man walking by her side.

“The moon,” she said, pointing at the sky. “It’s really pretty tonight, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Jean said, looking at her instead of the sky. “Are you cold? Do you need my sweater?”

“I’m fine,” Mikasa shook her head and rubbed her hands together. “We just need to walk quicker.”

“I can carry that for you.”

“Jean.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you carry it,” he said with a kind smile. “But if your back is sore tomorrow, don’t blame me.”

“I won’t.”

“Because I’ll tell them the truth, Ackerman,” Jean said, chuckling as she turned to look at him with her brow furrowed. “I’ll tell them you’re as stubborn as the will of kings, three times more stubborn than the queen of Paradis itself…I know, I know what you’re going to say. ‘You’re an idiot, Kirstein’.”

“You are. And you’ve learned from the best,” Mikasa quipped back. “I mean Connie.”

Jean laughed, his voice mingling with the echoes and faint music coming from the pubs around them. Mikasa covered her mouth to laugh; she’d never thought anyone would ever consider her funny…no, she had never thought she would ever feel compelled to tell a joke, or just act her age, ever again.

Her friendship to Jean was her most precious treasure after those three years. Her love for Armin had not wavered, he was still the only family from her past she had left, but Armin would have his own family soon, at the continent. And she couldn’t blame him or force him to stay. She wanted him to move on from the pain, even if that meant leaving her behind.

The thing was, Mikasa didn’t want Jean to leave her behind.

“You look thoughtful.” He pointed out as they passed another pub.

“I’m thinking about Armin,” she replied. “About the wedding.”

“Are you excited about it?”

“Not more than he is.” Mikasa said. “I’m just shocked.”

“Shocked?”

She nodded. “We fought so much against them, the Marley warriors, the titan shifters. And now we’re dining with them, and Armin is marrying Annie.”

“Strange turn of events?”

“It’s weird how life doesn’t go as you imagine it,” Mikasa replied, tilting her head back to look at the moon, its surface rough and damaged, and still the most beautiful sight in the sky. “If you’d asked me five years ago how I imagined my life, I would’ve told you…”

Her voice disappeared gradually as she realized she’d almost mentioned Eren. Jean didn’t mind talking about him; in fact, that’s all they had done the first couple of weeks, reminisce about the past, about their time as soldiers. However, the more time they spent together, the less she liked bringing him in conversation. Why, she didn’t understand. He’d been Eren’s friend, after all.

“You would’ve said you wanted to spend the rest of Eren’s years by his side.” Jean finished saying. “You don’t need to be ashamed to say it. You love him.”

“I loved him.” She corrected, not wanting to look at Jean. Her love for Eren was there, of course, but there was only so much love she could give a dead man. “And you’re right. That’s what I would’ve said…and I would’ve had no idea of what to do afterwards. That would’ve been the end of the line for me. I never thought I’d be alive after Eren’s death.”

“What do you think you’d say now?” Jean asked. There was no hidden message in his words, just genuine interest for her wellbeing, for assurance that she would not drown in grief again, as they’d found her upon their return. “If someone asked you how you imagine your future now, what would you say?”

“I’d say I want to keep living,” she said, with much more certainty than what she’d expected. “I want to keep living with you guys. I want to see little Ymir at school. I want to be at Armin’s wedding, and at Connie’s wedding. I want to keep hearing Hitch’s jokes. I want to keep walking home with you after work and make dinner together.”

“I wanna keep making dinner with you too.” Jean replied, with the longing look she’d come to recognize so well the past few weeks.

Mikasa brought her hands up to her face to blow hot air into her palms, hoping the gesture would cover the color in her cheeks, thinking perhaps she could blame the cold, if he asked, or if he stared too much –he did tend to stare at her every now and then.

“Hey. The skin in your fingers is cracking,” Jean said. He grabbed her hands to examine them, stopping in front of another pub. “I know you’re saying you want to keep living, but catching a cold isn’t precisely going in that direction.”

“Are you going to scold me like a kid for forgetting my gloves?” Mikasa asked, her gaze threatening to turn into a glare.

Jean gave her a playful smile. He brought out a set of bandages from his pockets and began wrapping her fingers with the soft fabric. “Exactly. Papa doesn’t like when children forget their winter clothes, especially when it’s starting to snow.”

Mikasa snorted again. “You’re such an idiot. Please don’t call yourself papa.”

Jean laughed, and they wrapped themselves once again in their little universe. It happened often, when they cooked, gossiped about the court or simple when they worked their budgeting books in the library. One look from either of the two, and they became separate entities from the reality around them, with their attention solely on the other. It was a nice little trick they had; it was what had turned this friendship of theirs into her treasure.

“Put my gloves on, please,” he said, putting them in her hands. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Jean, a cold isn’t deadly.”

“Still.” He said, his face growing serious. “I don’t want to see you hurting.”

Mikasa opened her mouth to say something, but the crowd coming from the pub to their right was louder. A group of twenty people or so, all their age, surrounded them in a circle of drunken laughter and cheers, their voices too loud for her liking, their faces red and bodies oblivious to the snow that had started falling from the sky. A man older than the rest had a violin in his hands, and despite his efforts to play the cheery little melody, Mikasa and Jean cringed at the dissonant sound from his strings.

“We need to get home. They’re not dangerous, but they’re too loud.” She told him, huddling closer to him. Jean put a hand on the back of her head and the other to her waist, as if to shield her from the crowd. A group of girls pulled the violinist to an empty stretch of street. The man, emboldened by being in front of the crowd, stood on a bench near him and played even more passionately.

Jean turned to look at her, laughing. “He’s really bad, isn’t he?”

Mikasa felt her chest moving in laughter. She closed her eyes as another set of high notes pierced the night. “He’s awful,” she laughed, huddling closer as two couples began to jump nearby. She opened her eyes, cringing still. “Take me home, please.”

Her eyes met the hazel in his; he was staring at her again. There were snowflakes on his hair and face, and his cheeks were more blushed than the cheeks from the people around them. She felt herself relax in his arms and the stupid little tune from the violin became muffled in her ears. “You have snowflakes,” she pointed out, lifting herself up on the tip of her toes to run her thumb along his eyebrows.

She traced a line with her finger down his jawline, wondering when he’d grown into such manly shapes. He leaned in, barely half a centimeter, and her body took that as all the invitation she needed. Mikasa grabbed his face with both hands and touched his lips with hers, moving them in an awkward, simple motion she’d seen other people her age do.

She thought he would push her away that second he held his breath; she thought he would reject her advance, tell her he saw her as nothing more than a friend –a possibility that, she was shocked to realize, made her feel as if an iron fist squeezed the blood out of her heart.

But after that moment of initial shock, Jean wrapped her waist with his arms and lifted her in the air, kissing her as a longtime lover. Whoops and cheers surrounded them, and the violinist stopped playing for the blessed seconds their lips moved against each other.

He put her on the ground and pressed his forehead against hers once they’d finished, catching his breath while the drunken crowd clapped and cheered. He closed her eyes and so did Mikasa, both at a loss for words of what they’d done.

“Oi!” the violinist shouted, and the crowd quieted around him. “Aren’t you the Ackerman girl? The titan-killer? Stronger than a thousand men?”

Mikasa tensed in his arms; she was accustomed to being antagonized by some groups in the island, but she’d hoped the alcohol would keep them from recognizing her. She didn’t like the idea of getting into trouble with Jean there.

“Yes,” Mikasa said, lowering Jean’s arm, which he’d begun wrapping around her protectively. If this was going to be an argument, she didn’t want them to antagonize Jean. “I am. Why?”

The violinist smiled, playing an out-of-tune chord in excitement. “I knew I recognized ya! I didn’t know you had a sweetheart!” he shouted happily. “I saw you in Trost! You saved our lives and you were just a little teenage kid! I never thought I’d see the day I’d see you happy and married.”

“Oh,” Mikasa said, relaxing. “We’re not married yet.”

“Yet?” Jean asked suddenly.

“That’s a lovely sweetheart you’ve got there, boy. Take good care of her or she might as well will rip your balls off,” the violinist half-shouted, half-laughed, putting his instrument under his chin and bowing in their direction. “For the happy couple.”

“For the happy couple!” the crowd cheered on. The violinist resumed playing –or rather, he resumed murdering the song— and the crowd resumed their celebration, forgetting about them as soon as another couple began kissing. Mikasa pulled him by the shirt, leading him into an emptier street. They stood under the shadow of a tall building, away from the crowd but near enough to still hear the violin, although this time the song didn’t sound quite as bad.

“They didn’t take anything from your backpack, did they?” she said, clutching on the floor to inspect hers.

“Did-did you say yet?” Jean managed to stammer. Mikasa looked up at him, and a smile came to her at his shocked expression. It was just so easy to smile when he was around. “Did you say we’re not married yet?”

“You’re going to get a nosebleed, Kirstein.”

Jean laughed and dropped his backpack next to hers; he clutched, close enough that she smelled his cologne. He inspected the contents of his bag for a brief second and then gave her another look. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Do you want to?” Mikasa said.

“I’ve wanted to for a whole month now. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, though, Mikasa. Just tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy.” He said in an urgent whisper. The raw intent of his words took her breath away; he’d grown into such a good man, he’d become such a good friend. She couldn’t deny him another kiss. No. It wasn’t that she couldn’t deny him a kiss.

She just wanted another kiss. From him. Not anyone else. “You’re not.” Mikasa said, cradling his face with both of her hands. “Your kiss did wonders to cheer up the night.”

_________________________________

Mikasa waited for the music to begin while tapping her slipper on the cobblestones, ripping another flower petal off the bouget to rob its soft surface. At this point, she’d walk in with nothing but skinny branches in her hands. She fanned herself with the bouquet, thinking should’ve cut her hair beforehand; It was late spring, but the heatwaves were already upon them. Her dress was light enough, but Mikasa guessed the nerves were playing against her.

He liked her hair long, though. And she loved feeling his hands running through it.

“Are they ready yet?” she asked Armin the moment he walked around the corner.

“Historia’s ready,” Armin said, then scratched the back of his head. “Jasper is tuning the instrument.”

“We’re just signing those documents,” Mikasa said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her back against the wall. “None of this has to be this grand…he can just play that silly little tune of his and be done with it.”

“Weren’t you the one who got insisted on getting this violinist guy? You went all the way into the inner districts to find him. Something about it being special?” Armin said, arching an eyebrow. Mikasa gave him an icy look, but that didn’t erase the knowing smile on his face. “You’re going to get your dress stained against that wall.”

She straightened and turned around, allowing Armin to shake the dust of the back of it, her eyes set on the birds flying overhead. “Was he nervous?”

“He had to change his suit twice from sweating so much.”

Mikasa lowered her head to snort. “I’m not surprised.”

“Turn around,” Armin asked. Mikasa did as he requested and allowed him to wrap her up in an embrace; she leaned her face against his shoulder and took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her feet had been trembling in anticipation for a good hour. “I’m so happy you get to smile like this.”

“Me too.” She said, coming apart from him, tucking her hair behind her ears. Soft, mellow notes drifted to them from inside the greenhouse Historia had provided for them and Armin gave her an excited smile.

Mikasa sighed in relief; the violinist had assured her he was good when sober and she hadn’t doubted him, and she was glad Connie had kept him from any pubs until the ceremony. She wouldn’t have minded to hear the same stupid tune from their first night together, but the prospect of queen Historia officiating a wedding ceremony with a drunken violinist…Connie aand Reiner would’ve found it hilarious, to be fair.

“Are you ready?” Armin asked, offering her his arm. Mikasa looked at the birds once more before focusing on her childhood friend.

“Yes.” She said, intertwining her arm with his. Armin kissed her cheek and looked away to wipe a stray tear from his cheek against his shoulder, Mikasa guessed. “Thank you, Armin. I love you.”

It was so easy to tell the people she loved that she loved them. He’d done that for her; he had managed to open her constricted heart by just being there with her. He’d saved her from herself in such a kind, gentle way, and it was something she would forever be grateful for. It was one of the many thousand reasons why she’d fallen in love with him.

She felt like a giddy schoolgirl by seeing him at the end of the hallway, hands clasped in front of him, staring at her with tears in his eyes. The feeling grew as her friends turned to look at her, all smiling, even Levi. And while she knew her head ought to have focused on happiness, Mikasa was reminded of all the horrible things they’d seen together as Armin walked her down the aisle. All the people that were missing in that crowd of friends, people they would never see again.

It made her wonder. what was it about her that was so special? What was it about her existence that had given her the right to keep living, make new friends, fall in love with this wonderful, perfect man waiting for her at the altar…why was her heart so full of happiness now. Why couldn’t she share this happiness and her love for Jean with Sasha, Hange, Mina, Marco, Eren?

“Hey,” Jean whispered as Armin let go of her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the matter?”

Mikasa lowered her head. “Not everyone’s here to celebrate with us.”

“They are here.” Jean said. “They’re all watching over us.”

He took her arm in his gently, not to lead her to the altar, but to hold her steady. He’d noticed her change of expression, a change not even Armin at her side had seen. And, putting his own desires aside -as always when it came to her-, he spoke in the low, caring voice she adored so much. “We don’t have to do this right now, Mika.”

“I want to.”

“Are you sure?” Jean asked. “If you want to call it off—”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Her hand went up to caress his cheek. “I love you.”

He smiled at her, looking as charming as the princes from little Ymir’s fairytales, awakening that childish giddiness in her heart that had escaped her so quickly at the thought of her fallen comrades. “I love you too, Mika. But I mean it, if you don’t feel—”

She kissed him in the lips for a long couple of seconds, uncaring about the curious gazes from their friends on the seats. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. It’s been like that for a while. It’ll be like that forever,” she whispered in between kisses. “It’s time we make it official.”

Historia cleared her throat from the other side of the altar, and she and Jean turned to look at her serious gaze. A childish giggle echoed across the place, and Mikasa guessed that was little Ymir, delighted to see someone other than herself had gotten in trouble with her mother. “You’re not supposed to have your first wedding kiss yet.”

“Let’s go,” Jean whispered. “She’s gonna bring firing squads back.”

“I heard that.” Historia replied, not without a hint of annoyance. Mikasa giggled, intertwining her arm with Jean.

“Are you sure?” he asked her in a low voice as they finish making their way to the altar.

“I told you before, haven’t I?” she said without looking at him. “Your kissing works wonders.”

_________________________________

Jean knew he shouldn’t have left for the coastal towns with the welcoming party for the Hizuru commission at this point. But she’d insisted. And she was as stubborn as the will of kings.

Luckily, the little influence he had had gotten him an overnight train ride. And then, he’d found a horse. Few people used horses at the island anymore, but it’d been the quickest way to avoid the traffic of the newly built roads. And since he couldn’t take a horse into the grounds of the royal hospital, Jean had had to run.

He stumbled into the hospital room with sweat running down his forehead, hair sticking to the nape of his neck despite his ponytail, out of breath, but just in time. Armin was at her bedside, his face purple due to the pain of having his hand being squeezed by her.

“You’re here!” Mikasa sighed at the sight of him, then looked at Armin. “Make room for him.”

“I’ll let your mom know you’re here, Jean.” Armin informed him, running out of the room. Something in Jean suspected he was just relieved to have the chance to get some ice for his hand.

He ran to her bedside, brushing hair away from her flushed face. “How much longer?” he asked, his chest aching from seeing her twisting on the bed from the pain.

Mikasa cringed as another contraction came over. “You came just in time.”

He kissed her forehead. “Is it bad?”

“I could say I’ve felt worse,” Mikasa said, closing her eyes as her pain increased. “But I’d be lying.”

“You’re perfect,” he said, kissing her forehead one more time. “I wish I could do this for you.”

“You’d be crying like a baby by now, Kirstein, you and I know that.” She teased, and Jean laughed in relief. If she had energy to give him snarky, serious remarks, she would be fine.

“Ah, this is dad?” a woman he guessed was a physician asked, coming in the room escorted by two young nurses. Mikasa nodded, and the doctor acknowledged Jean with a polite nod. “You made it just in time, sir, she’s all ready to push.”

Jean swallowed hard, exchanging a look with Mikasa, noticing fear in her face for the first time in a long time. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “You can do it.”

“I know I can,” Mikasa said, taking a breath through her mouth. “Just hold my hand through it.”

He took her hand into his and suppressed his squeal of pain when she began pushing, thinking he would look like a complete dumbass if he complained from some hand squeezing when his wife was giving birth right in front of his eyes. Despite her quiet nature, it didn’t take long for her to start screaming as their child came out of her, and Jean could only whisper encouraging, love-filled words to her as she brought forth the life they’d created. The life she’d grown and carried for a whole nine months.

Jean had never thought his love for her could grow larger, but he’d clearly been mistaken, he thought as Mikasa crumbled back onto her chair and tiny little squeals filled the room. The physician and two nurses began cleaning their child, and Jean fell to his knees at the side of her bed. “Are you okay?” he asked, kissing the hand that had almost broken his just a moment ago.

Mikasa nodded, kissing him once on the lips. “And our baby?”

“She’s fine! A perfect, healthy baby girl!” the doctor announced, bringing her over to them wrapped in a yellow-colored blanket. “Want to hold her first, dad?”

“Let mom have the honors,” Jean replied, staring in awe at the tiny human crying in the doctor’s arms. “She just did all the work, didn’t she?”

The doctor placed their baby in Mikasa’s arms, who grabbed one of her tiny hands and kissed it while making shooshing noises. Jean stared, mouth wide open, at the sight of his wife and his child. Two perfect beings living comfortably in a peaceful world; his family, all he’d ever wanted. He swallowed hard, wondering what he’d done to deserve such a beautiful, perfect sight, what he’d done to deserve to be loved back by her.

Jean looked away, wiping the tears spilling down his eyes with the back of his hand as their daughter fell asleep at the sound of Mikasa’s voice. “Hey, dad,” she called gently. “Come see her, don’t cry.”

He leaned forward on the bed, and Mikasa kissed his cheek, using one of her hands to wipe his eyes. “She’s so beautiful. Look, she has your black hair,” he whimpered, running a careful finger across her soft arm. She gave him another smile, the type of smile he’d grown so accustomed to see these past years, a smile that people had doubted it even existed during their years at war. “Mikasa, I love you two so much.”

“I love you too,” she whispered while kissing his neck. “I love you so very fucking much.”

“Hey, language,” he said, kissing her lips and then grabbing their baby’s tiny hand again, speaking with a silly, childish tone of voice he’d heard other fathers use with their newborns. “We’re gonna need to get a swear jar or something. Mom and uncle Levi will fill that one up nicely.”

“Want to give her a kiss?” Mikasa asked.

Jean nodded eagerly, leaning forward to give her a small peck on the top of her tiny forehead; their baby stirred in her sleep, and it didn’t take long for her to begin crying. “It’s okay, Jean. Don’t be scared. Do you want hold her?”

“I’m fucking shaking here, I’ll drop her.”

“Language, Kirstein.” She reminded him, faking that serious expression from her teenage years. “Give her another kiss, come on.”

“She’s going to cry.”

“Just do it?” Mikasa said. “I want to see something.”

Jean sighed and leaned in to place a peck on her daughter’s cheeks, copying Mikasa’s shooshing noises as he neared her. Soon after his lips touched her, their baby quieted down again, closing her eyes as she settled against her mother’s breast. “Hey, how did you know that was going to happen?”

“She’s just like her mom,” Mikasa said, setting her eyes on the baby girl they’d created, the baby girl they would pour their love onto for the rest of their lives. “Your kisses do wonders to cheer up the women in this family. Remember that.”