#could’ve kept this crap in the drafts

[bohemian-nights]

Daemon gonna kiss a man in Hotd S2! 😂 A French kiss! Lmao this is wild but in S1 we've seen him flirting with that servant guy so i guess he's really bisexual, i'm very curious i wanna see how the scene is portrayed and especially who is kissing?? A random??

So sorry, but I’m combining all these asks because I only have one thing to say about this subject.

This show has time for this pointless foolishness with randos yet they refuse to bring in Nettles(you know the only female and non-Valyrian dragonseed; the girl Daemon was going to die for) and want to limit Dettles(a canon couple)🙃

[venomous--fics]

Anon asked: maybe a continuation of the peter b parker kid thing where they finally confront the mom and get the readers things back 😩💞💞

a/n: ask and thou shall receive! this spent so long in the drafts bc i felt so insecure about it tbh, so any feedback is appreciated! I love seeing messages about what you guys think! really keeps me motivated! also, requests are open

Warnings: mentions of past abuse

Peter was sitting at the kitchen table, constantly looking at the clock. It was almost 5pm, you were supposed to be home an hour and a half ago. Yes, he keeps track of everyone's schedules, yes he knows the exact second you should be walking through the door. He's already texted you, but maybe you had detention. Nah, you were a good student, he highly doubted you'd have to stay after school.

His phone finally rang, and he was way too quick answering it.

"You okay?"

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he was already out the door.

You sighed, knowing he was probably going to give you an earful later.

"Well, it's a really long story, right.. But my mom showed up after school-"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I think. Anyways, we got into it on the way home, which is no- Not normal." you adjusted how you were sitting, "And since she was dragging me back to the house, I figured I'd just get my crap and come home, right? Makes sense, saves us the tri-"

"She took you without permission?"

"Technically she is my m-...Parent. I guess, y'know, legally she can do whatever- But..Okay." you began to feel bubbles of anxiety and pain and even resentment form deep in your core, "She locked me out." You rubbed your neck.

"Are you," he paused, looking around at all the faces passing by him, "Still there?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Don't apologize, you didn't do anything."

"I keep causing problems for everyone."

"Not for me. Or Mj."

It was quiet on your end.

"You still there?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there in like ten minutes."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Nah, nah." He said, having a sudden wave of anger rush over him, "Let me take care of this."

And true to his word, Peter was there in ten minutes. You hopped up from your spot on the porch as he made his way up to the door and knocked on it as hard as he could. He gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

The door swung open, and your mother seemed awfully surprised and confused to see some random man just standing there. Peter held no emotion has he looked her dead in the eye, "Can we come in."

She opened the door wider so that way you two could step in.

"Go get your stuff." is all Peter said to you.

Wasting no time, and not wanting to be in the middle of a potential argument between the two, you skedaddled to your room. It almost felt like too much to be in there. It looked so empty and barren compared to your room at Peter and Mjs place. Seems really dull. Lifeless, almost. Dust covered every surface, which meant that nobody had ever even bothered to see if you were even still in there.

You heard their voices from the living room, but they seemed so distant, seeing as all you could focus on was every shitty thing that woman put you through.

You remember the day that you got bit. It made you deathly ill, and you just thought you were dying from some sort of allergic reaction to the spider bite. You tried to get her to take you to any doctor or anywhere that could help because all you could seem to see were stars.

Everything then was so loud. Everything was so bright. It was all too much, and you were certain that the reaper was waiting for you. What did she say?

"Suck it up and stop pretending. Everything has to be so dramatic with you."

Or that time you forgot a single item on the shopping list. You got this whole speech about how stupid you had to have been. To forget one item. It was the world's most useless item.

Everything else seemed to play all over again, all at once. Like a waterfall. It should've made you sad. It should've made you cry, or scream.

You recounted all the times you wanted to fight back, or just run away. Leave everything behind and just run until your legs gave out. But you never did. You always found some reason to linger.

The conversation was growing louder where Peter was.

"You aren't going to do this to them ever again. Sign the papers."

You nearly dropped your last belonging on the floor as you scrambled to your door. Papers? He wasn't serious. Well, obviously he was. He just said it.

"Fine. It's not like the-"

"Zip it. Sign the papers."

"Who are you anyways? The law? If so, whatever they've told you is a b-"

"Listen, lady. I didn't ask for any attitude. I told you to sign the papers." he seemed to huff in annoyance, "That doesn't require talking."

"I'm a good mother."

"And I'm the king of France."

"Really. I gave them a good home. I have fed them and kept them warm-"

"Really? You think you did all that? Or are you convincing yourself that you did all that?"

"I am-"

"Can I be honest with you?"

"Ye-"

"I've never said this about anyone, ever. I don't like speaking to or about anyone like this.. Ever, but, you? I think you're a piece of shit."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, look. You finished signing the papers. I'll take those. Thank you."

Realizing that it was your time to go, you stuffed your blanket into your duffel bag and rushed out the door and down the hall. Peter looked at you, expecting to see at least three bags. But he only saw the one.

"Where's the rest of your stuff."

"Uhm," you shuffled around, pretending as thought you dropped some, "This...This is all my stuff."

"That can't be ri-" He laughed a little, and noting the expression on his face, you saw that he was NOT happy. "That? That single duffle bag is all you have? That's it?"

"Yes..." you took a step back, "This is all.."

"I can't believe it." he said, "You're joking! One bag worth of stuff?"

He turned his attention back to your mother, who, for the first time in your life, actually looked like she got caught red handed, "You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

"But they're so u-"

"No! No, you don't get to talk anymore. You've done enough."

You awkwardly shuffled behind him, in the event that you two had to make a mad dash out the door. That and you needed to not be seen as you tried to hide your almost evil grin.

"The hell is wrong with you? You have this amazing kid, and THAT'S all you've ever gotten for them? And you sit there and call yourself a mother? Absolutely, without a doubt, bullshit. I'd be ashamed of myself to call myself a father if that's all I've provided for my kid. Don't even get me started on you as a person, we made that clear."

It almost felt cursed to hear him swear, seeing as he made it a point to tell you to not swear. Every time you did, you have to give a quarter to the swear jar. Mj was always on your side, though. She'd say a swear that was much worse and have to pay a dollar. Each word had a value.

"Maybe we should just go." you suggested, tugging on the sleeve of his arm, "She's not worth it anymore."

"She was never worth it, it seems."

You finally made eye contact with her, and the look in her eye. It's like she understood, but was choosing to not do anything about the situation. She could look sorry all she wanted, but you knew she wasn't.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. You know that right."

"That means nothing to me."

"I can change."

"If you can change now, that means you could've changed then. You just chose not to."

"But I'm your mother, you should realize how I feel. You should want-"

"You're not my mom. You stopped being my mom the first time you-" You turned towards the door and started walking towards it, "Whatever. You mean nothing to me."

You practically kicked open teh door just to leave, and Peter was right behind you, shouting about how he'd make sure to egg her house everyday, just to piss her off.

"Do you really think I'm amazing?" you asked, the walk home feeling rather quiet.

"I think you're more than that. Just can't put it into words."

"Did you really mean it...That we could egg her house?"

"You want to? There's a store right on the way home."

"How about tomorrow."

"I'll have to clear up my busy schedule. See if I can work in a drive by egging. Well, swing by egging."

"You promise?"

"You kidding? I haven't egged anyone's house since college."

You had so much more you wanted to get off you chest, but you opted to just talk about it at home, with everyone present. You wanted to talk about how you felt about everything, and the papers. Whatever those were. But you were, for the moment, busy laughing about Peter's story about how he used to Egg this one reporters house. Someone named Jonah.

You wonder if Jonah ever put two and two together.

[ichika27]

Random Thoughts on Saiyuki Zeroin

The show is finally over and it was great! No wonder a lot of people liked the original manga version. I was supposed to make this days after the last episode but I kept forgetting and putting it off. This has been in my drafts since after I posted the episode 11 comment post and I have just finished it today haha.

I was gonna put some of these on my episode 11 thoughts but it’d get too long so I’m posting it here separately. These are my personal thoughts and comments on this show/its characters. It could get rambly and you might even say “It’s not that deep!” but to me, somehow it is - overly dramatic lol.

I’ll be reusing some photos from my other Saiyuki posts.

My Thoughts on Hazel Grouse

Saiyuki Reaload -Zeroin-’s episode 11 broke my brain and made me think too much after watching it. I literally went to bed contemplating on what life is before going to sleep. It’s stupid but I love it when a story makes me think this hard.

Hazel’s question at the beginning of the episode 11: would anything have changed if he had taken care of the flower his master had given him? My thought is that there may have. His master gave that to his as he needed to learn something stating that demons/monsters take lives and so Hazel must learn something about life. The lesson would’ve been perfect for Hazel who has the ability to resurrect people from the dead.

-Hazel is an exorcist who has to kill demons/monsters as a duty. He’s also very biased against demons/monsters - to him, it doesn’t matter who or what they are cause they’re all better off dead.

-Hazel could bring the dead back to life with his ability so long as he has another life he could take to replace it. He also has a pendant that could easily store as many souls as he could to use whenever it’s needed.

These two things together on Hazel is kinda... he acts like a jerk. He hates demons and don’t give a crap about who they are with an example being that demon kid from the first few episodes. And he can bring people back to life so he doesn’t really mind anyone becoming collateral damage if needed be like in that episode with the human hostages. He was willing to shoot them if the others didn’t make their move.

As a result, killing demons/monsters gives him a bonus of having extra souls to revive the dead giving him more reason to be ruthless when dealing with them. The demons/monsters are all evil and he can use their lives to bring anyone back and these make it seem like his decisions/actions are justified.

And being able to revive the dead, he doesn’t really care as much if humans die because he can just bring him back. His appreciation for life seemed to have lowered cause he can easily end/bring it back whenever he wants to. Maybe if he’d realized how precious life was, he might have had a bit more sympathy for other people.

I mean, according to Gato’s flashback, Hazel was not happy with what he did that, even if it wasn’t his intentions, he did kill Gato. He promised he wouldn’t do anything like that to humans again then fast forward to Zeroin episode 3, he was thinking of shooting the hostages. He said he was bluffing but the way he reacts to people dying seems to me like he doesn’t see it as a big deal anymore. The death of the sick human baby too - he doesn’t look as affected as Goku and the others and used the baby’s death to verbally hit the party with basically a “See? if only you let me kill that demon kid then I could’ve saved this one!”

I’m not saying Hazel’s a bad person but everything that he went through until now just made him not care enough about life itself due to how easy it was to kill and bring someone back. That was until the pendant broke as he no longer has an easy fix for death.

I wasn’t sure if I should bring up the revived humans attacking the Sanzo Party. Like, Sanzo and the others (and I guess even the audience) think Hazel’s been using the revived humans as puppets to attack the Sanzo Party but he said it was just a side effect of the humans being killed by demons and wanting revenge. It hasn’t been brought up again after the first time the groups separated with a sort of a bit more positive impression of the other so I’m not exactly sure what’s right and what’s wrong. On the other hand, they’ve been on that town with almost everyone being resurrected humans and those people never attacked Goku, Gojyo, and Hakkai so Hazel might’ve been lying. If he was (which is most likely), it’s another addition to the above as he didn’t mind using humans as puppets knowing they could die again cause he can just bring them back whenever he wanted.

My Thoughts on Ukoku Sanzo

Ukoku Sanzo’s Muten Sutra’s power is “Nothingness”. As explained in the show, it’s turning anything into nothing making them disappear or erasing them. It’s shown when he cut off Gato’s arm and several trees in the surrounding areas when it came to physical things while for things that don’t exactly have a physical form, he was able to stop Sanzo’s attack by making it disappear and of course, he can erase existence itself.

He tried in this very same episode to erase Genjo Sanzo’s existence and as the darkness from the Muten Sutra got closer, we see more of Sanzo’s time with his comrades disappear one by one. The end result if the others hadn’t come to save Sanzo would’ve been his inexistence. I do wonder what would’ve happened had Sanzo completely disappeared - how would things be in the world and the places the Sanzo Party had been to?

His power is pretty scary and unlike Sanzo, it seems he didn’t even need to say anything to activate it which made him a hard opponent to beat. They weren’t able to actually kill him and it makes sense as he’s stronger than they are. They were able to injure him though so that was awesome already.

While he’s not exactly a good person, I can’t say I completely hate him. He’s an interesting and also somehow entertaining character. He’s not gone, just back to hiding away and I’m excited to see how they’d deal with him in the very end of the series.

The Theme of Life and Death

This entire season there are talks about “life” which isn’t surprising considering a new character’s power ties into that. I actually like this as there’s something more to think about in-between all the shounen action going on. The Saiyuki series as a whole isn’t stranger to this theme of life and death because of what the plot is but this season felt like it really focused on that.

The important characters shown in this arc/season who aren’t the main protagonists have ties to the theme in their own ways.

Hazel has the power of life as he can revive the dead but at a price. He had no qualms when killing demons and then using their life to bring humans back. And then the power of resurrection itself coming from a demon who kills humans.

Then there’s Bishop Filbert, Hazel’s father figure and mentor, tried to teach him about life using the flower and some words of wisdom (that Hazel didn’t listen to). Hazel understood it only at what I guess is the end of the journey he decided to take.

There’s also “death” that is tied to Ukoku Sanzo who has the ability to end someone’s life past the point of death to inexistence. His power came from one of the Founding Sutras of Heaven and Earth - the sutras said to be part of a single one that created the world. Ukoku used this power to destroy and nearly kill some of the characters and in Gato’s case, he succeeds.

Gatty Nenehawk or Gato is kind of the in-between as he had died and he was revived. Basically an undead living on which is paid for by the death of others.

Hazel can give someone another chance to continue their lives and have a future while Ukoku can take everything away and not just a person’s future but their past as well. They do have something similar going on though: they’re clinging to someone from the past. Memories of their moment with those people becoming flashbacks in the show.

Hazel’s past with Bishop Filbert which shaped who he is as a person and is the reason he travels in the first place. Ukoku’s past with Komyou Sanzo and the bet they made with each other shown in the first and last episode which seems to be the reason he fought the Sanzo Party (and maybe one of the reasons he’s doing what he does now).

Gato on the other hand is who he is also because of how he was raised in his tribe but it doesn’t seem to tie him down like the other two. The flashback with his past happened only once and near the end as well. He had accepted his death because he was taught that it was how life goes but he doesn’t hate the 2nd chance he got. He never got mad at Hazel for accidentally killing him or intentionally bringing him back. He doesn’t think about the future he won’t have once he passes away permanently but it doesn’t bother him. He lived and he’s satisfied with that. In a way, he was like the human version of the flower Hazel was supposed to take care of back in the day. I mean the whole “Flowers wither, yet they bloom.” - Gato lived and he died and to him, that’s how it is even if Hazel didn’t understand at first and wanted to keep reviving him.

It’s not even just them cause there’s also the village of demons that they ended up in somewhere in this season. The demons there have lived long enough in the situation where humans have taken their only close water source while driving them away. They knew the humans did not like them and it was only a matter of time before a fight would ensue which did happen in the end. They’ve already accepted that it’s the way life would be and even when they knew they could die, they were ready for it.

On the other hand, the humans there, especially those leading them, didn’t seem to be in comparison. They knew there’d be a war as they were the ones who wanted it in the first place and they knew there would be deaths on their side as well but they chose to act when someone like Hazel arrived who can bring their dead back.

In the end while many died, especially the adults in the demon village, there are children who survived and they will continue to live on. On the human side which, many had died as well and it’s unknown if anyone survived but as Sanzo and Hazel had left them to their fate, they’re suffering the consequences on how they chose to live.

Other Thoughts

It’s hard to judge most of the characters for their choices and actions. The show was at least able to give us the reason as to why they’re the way they are. I hated Hazel at the beginning due to his personality and how he treated those around him but in the end, I couldn’t hate him fully. I liked his character and I understood at least why he was like that and he had character development as well. Gato was nicer but he was also acting under Hazel’s orders so he can’t just do what he wanted. He does what he can to try and make Hazel see his point of view which I think is good enough.

Even the main characters contemplated and how they’d react had they been in Hazel’s position. They knew that depending on the situation, they may have chosen the same path. When the subject is of their own deaths, they’d accept that it would happen but it doesn’t mean they won’t fight to keep on living longer.

The demons in that one village eat humans and see them as food but it’s difficult to hate them with how circumstances have put them in that position. They weren’t that bad either and it wasn’t like they were actively hunting for humans to eat. They still eat regular fruits, vegetables, and animal meat and are just living the way they could.

I nearly forgot but there’s also the human town that decided to make a deal with demons. While I understand why the people there accepted that their leader had been in cahoots with demons, they do other things that I feel are unacceptable. They wanted to survive so I get why they’d continue playing along to the fake barrier thing. On the other hand, capturing and torturing innocent demons are horrible. I remember them saying they deliberately hunted them - the demons (who are young) they had been using as some kind of freakshow didn’t end up anywhere in town and were taken from the mountains. It’s messed up.

At least the demon village who eats humans only eat those who do end up inside their space. As disturbing as it sounds, it’s better than them actively hunting for humans to eat. There’s also the fact that after surviving the effects of the minus wave, they were reverted back to their human-eating nature. Humans on the other hand don’t really have an excuse as to why they were being assholes so I’m less likely to find their actions acceptable.

That said, the Sanzo Party had been in several human villages this season and the ones who decided to separate themselves almost completely from demons turn out to have terrible people in them who decided to do acts beyond that of merely wanting to survive.

How Things Ended

It’s hard to accept but not everything had a happy ever after and it can’t be helped with how the world worked in the story. The first village they went to had people experience loss twice (the death of their loved ones the first time and when those revived died again later), the demons being tortured in the “safe” human town weren’t rescued and the people there are likely to capture and torture more in the future, the demon village burning to the ground with most of their inhabitants dying, and then there’s Hazel’s sort of ambiguous ending.

I remember the first season of Saiyuki having a bit more happier ending for the places the Sanzo Party passes through. But as the group get closer to the west where the minus wave is stronger, the worse things are and the harder things are to deal with. It’s a sad but understandable progress in the series.

It feels a bit more realistic as well as four random people stopping by somewhere can’t just fix everything permanently. Those living in the demon village knew this as well when they told Hakkai, Gojyo, and Goku that while they accept the trio’s help for now, a war is still inevitable since the trio won’t be there to help them forever.

I guess in a way it also ties to the life and death theme. Time goes on and doesn’t start or stop when the boys come and go - it merely moves and their presence affects the way it does for the moment they were there. They might leave something behind (an impression, or a result) but they won’t be there to keep things the way they are or continue to change things for the better. In the end, the future of those places is still in the hands of those who are still living in there.

End Thoughts

That was very long. It was longer than what I was expecting it to be but it was sort of an overall thought of the 13 episodes I watched so it can’t be helped. It was fun watching the series and I hope that someday, we get another season.

The OP made me feel hyped up and the ED made me feel emotions. Hazel has a noticeable accent (same as Bishop Filbert) which I couldn’t ignore at times (I don’t hate it though, it was just attention-grabbing). Ukoku is funny and interesting - I don’t mind listening to some of the bizzare things he’d say but at the same time, I’d like for him to get punched in the face very badly lol.

That was fun and I guess it’s all I have. Thank you for reading this mess.

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 17

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

-------

CHAPTER 17: LULLABY

(Mood Music: Quiet Beauty - James Todd)

One Chilly Sunday Evening

Chat Noir laughed so hard he was practically gasping for air, and his heart thumped like a drum in his chest.

How many times had they done this? Was it five? A dozen? A hundred? Racing Ladybug across city rooftops felt so normal, so natural, as if he’d done it a million times across countless different lifetimes. Whatever the case, there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

“I win!” he announced, breathless, as he landed on the solid ground of the Dupain-Cheng bakery’s balcony, promptly followed by his partner.

The light of the moon illuminated her graceful frame as she caught her breath, and it took all of Chat’s willpower not to gawk as a bead of sweat made its way from her temple to her cheek, then trailed down her jaw and onto her neck.

“Only because you cheated!” Ladybug chided, trying (yet failing) to hide an amused smile.

Chat put a hand on his hip, cheekily cocking it to the side as he caught his own breath. “I bet you could’ve won if you really wanted to. Were you trailing behind me on purpose to check out my assets? Or don’t tell me that you’ve never been tempted to take a peek?”

Ladybug raised a quizzical eyebrow, and a beat later replied with an impish smirk, “Well... I never said I haven’t.”

Chat’s eyes grew wide, his bright, chartreuse-green sclera becoming more visible than Ladybug had ever seen, their faint glow a stark contrast with the red color that bloomed on his cheeks.

Ladybug giggled (How dare she be so adorable yet still so attractive?!) and stepped towards him, placing her finger under his chin and closing his mouth with a small click. When had his jaw popped open??

“What’s the matter, Chaton? Can’t handle when somebody flirts back?” she teased, her face mere inches from his.

Chat suppressed the urge to squirm under her touch. They’d flirted countless times before, but why did his chest feel so tight when they did so lately?

Trying to compose himself and insert as much confidence as he could into his voice, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very desirable bachelor in my day-to-day life! I happen to have more suitors than I can shake a stick at!”

He’d said it jokingly, expecting to get rebuffed; but Ladybug gave him an exaggerated pout, tapping her mouth with her fingers (a gesture he couldn’t help but follow closely with his gaze).

“Ohh, I see…. Should I be jealous?” she said as she looked up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Do I have competition?”

Chat reached for her hand, slowly bringing it to his lips with a slight bow. “Never,” he replied, with a bit more conviction and candor than he’d intended. “Nobody could ever hold a candle to you, Milady. Your wit, kindness, and beauty surpasses them all. It is you alone who holds the key to my heart.”

Now it was Ladybug’s turn to get caught off guard. His words were theatrical and over-the-top, as usual; but there was sincerity behind them. There was something about the way he’d said them that made it feel… real. She couldn’t help but shyly look away, her cheeks a bright crimson hue, and she tucked some hair behind her ear as she always did whenever she was flustered or nervous.

“Flatterer,” she said timidly, attempting to deflect the compliment.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he replied with a wink.

Ladybug stared slack-jawed, and could only stutter out an ever so eloquent “I-I-I...” By this point, her entire face was as red as her suit, and she covered her face with both hands in embarrassment. “Chaaaaaaaat!” she cried helplessly in defeat.

Chat let out a hearty laugh, giving her a quick, comforting squeeze. He’d won this round of impromptu chicken. Deciding to have mercy and spare her from any further teasing, he changed the subject.

“Anyway, it’s too bad I can’t be the one to drop you off at your house, Bugaboo. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do. But alas, I’m lacking in the whole ‘majestic white steed’ department,” he remarked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the brick wall.

She laughed lightly through her nose. “Well, we’re not exactly your average, run of the mill coupl– uh, partners. Plus, I already know where you live, so that’s easy to do.”

Chat ignored her slip of the tongue, since he didn’t dare to hope for more. At least... not yet.

“That’s for sure,” he replied with a small chuckle. “We’re a rather unique situation. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Ladybug leaned next to him against the wall, pressing her back against the cool surface of the bricks as their shoulders bumped.

She hesitated for a few moments, seeming to gather her thoughts. He eyed her curiously, waiting for her to speak her mind.

“So…” she began, looking out into the dark autumn sky. “Which part is true? That you think I’m... beautiful, or that I hold the key to your... t-that I…”

A jolt of lightning traveled down his spine and he stared at her like a kid who’d just broken a window. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out– not even a flustered stammer.

He hadn’t meant to blurt out his feelings so casually a minute ago. In fact, he’d been working on an elaborate speech for when the time was right! It still needed lots of work; he was only on the seventh draft.

He paused to consider. Would it be so bad, though? If he were to confess to her right now?

It wasn’t how he’d planned it. There wasn’t an elegantly decorated rooftop full of roses and strings of lights, or soft romantic music, or any of the other things that would have made it perfect. He was supposed to carry her to a surprise location (bridal-style of course), her lithe arms wrapped around his neck, with a snugly placed blindfold around her eyes to amplify the mystery and anticipation.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d be impressed with his efforts enough to accept his feelings before she could realize that she was too good for him.

Truly his adoration for her knew no bounds. So much so, that he’d asked himself whether it was truly love, or if just an overblown obsession or infatuation.

And yet, he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew she wasn’t perfect. She didn’t need a pedestal. He’d placed her on one when they’d first become allies, but she pulled him up to her level, never allowing him to lower himself or place himself beneath her. She made sure that he always knew he was her equal, and not her subordinate. I mean, how could he not fall in love with her?

So, despite the fact that it wasn’t at all how he planned and he’d suddenly blanked out on his entire speech... he wanted to tell her. Now was as good a time as any.

Ladybug must have sensed the shift in his mood because she recoiled somewhat, jolting away from the brick wall.

She hastily began to backpedal, “N-nevermind, forget I said anything!! Um, anyway, have a good night!”

Chat shook himself out of his daze, then lunged forth to catch her arm as she reached for her yo-yo.

“M-milady, wait!”

She turned to face him, her face full of regret and embarrassment. “S-sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to tease you. Well– I mean, I did, but I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just–”

“No! N-no, don’t worry, you didn’t. It’s just that I’ve been… wanting to tell you something. Something important.”

He felt her stiffen at his words, and her eyes grew wide with apprehension.

Crap. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” he tried to reassure her. “Or… at least, I don’t think it’s bad. I mean, I hope it isn’t. To you, that is. What I mean is…” He rubbed the back of his neck with a groan, then let out a nervous, shallow breath.

She quirked her head to the side, as she unknowingly did whenever she was feeling curious or inquisitive. He tried (in vain) to ignore how cute she looked so he could focus on the task at hand.

This is it. You can do it. Be brave like Marinette!! She’d believe in you!

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; there was no going back.

And yet... how do you even begin to tell someone that you can’t imagine your life without them? That you’d sacrifice absolutely everything for their happiness; that you’d rather suffer a thousand deaths than to ever see them in pain? That the thought of losing them kept you awake at night more often than you’d like to admit?

How could he put into words that until she came along, he never imagined he’d be able to feel happiness again?

No; words could never suffice. There was nothing he wanted more than to grab his Lady by the waist and give her the most passionate kiss he could muster so that he could show her his love instead.

But he couldn’t. He had to know how she felt in return before he did something that rash, something that could potentially wreck their partnership if his actions were unwelcome.

He didn’t want to ruin anything. He was utterly terrified. And yet… he yearned for her to know.

He had to try. It might be selfish, but he had to tell her how he felt. Just in case she might maybe, possibly, someday, feel the same way.

Ladybug gently touched his forearm, her slender fingers skimming up and down the fabric of his gloves. “Kitty,” she began, concern written all over her face, her piercing sky blue eyes searching his own. “Is everything alright?”

Chat did his best to offer a reassuring smile, placing his opposite hand on top of hers. “I’m fine,” he answered. “I just have a bit of a confession to make.”

Ladybug’s face softened, and she returned a small smile as she waited for him to proceed, still unsure but relieved.

He swallowed thickly, and tried to steady his voice. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long. Well, I mean– technically we’ve known each other for years– but what I mean is that we haven’t really gotten to know each other ‘til recently. Uhh, that is––”

Ladybug gave a small giggle. “It’s okay, Chat. I know what you mean.”

Chat smiled back. “Anyway, I want you to know that our friendship means absolutely everything to me. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that, not ever. With that said, I still need you to know that I… that I...” he trailed off, looking away and biting his lip.

A few seconds passed, and he felt Ladybug’s soft hand touch his cheek, which gently turned his head to face her once again.

“Talk to me, Chat. You can tell me anything.”

Those eyes. Those big, gorgeous, absolutely amazing eyes. She was the sun and moon and stars all wrapped up in a tiny, polka-dotted package, and all he could offer her was himself. Was he enough? He silently prayed she hadn’t noticed how much his hands were trembling right now.

“I know I shouldn’t. I don’t know anything about your civilian self. Not really. Where you live, where you go to school, who your friends are. Whether you already have a special someone in your life. Or whether you–” he gulped “–whether you could ever feel the same way about me as I do about you.”

She stepped closer, sliding her hand down his arm and wrapping her fingers around his own (he’d never been as grateful that his suit had gloves as he was now, given how sweaty his palms were at the moment).

“And… how do you feel about me?” she asked, with a– dare he say– hopeful tone in her voice.

Her eyes bore into his own with such intensity and heat that he could no longer feel the chilly night air. He forced himself to hold her gaze, so she could be sure that his words were genuine.

“I wasn’t sure whether I should say anything or if it should wait until after we defeated Hawkmoth. I didn’t know if I was ready to… to open myself up and risk getting hurt in the process. Because I am so, so afraid of losing you.” He bit his lip, but continued, “But I don’t think I can wait that long. You have to know, because I might not get another chance...”

His posture straightened a bit, and he took both her hands into his. (Was it his hands that were still shaking, or hers?)

“I love you,” he finally uttered, his voice husky and low, as if it were a declaration far too sacred for others to hear. He heard her breath catch slightly. “I love you so much, My Lady.” Chat’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he let out a shaky sigh. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When you’re with me, I can’t help but feel truly happy. Happy to be your teammate, happy to be your friend… happy to be alive. You make me want to become a better person, and I just needed you to know that.”

He shrunk into himself somewhat, taking an unsteady, quivering breath, having expended all his bravery with his proclamation of love.

He’d done it. He’d confessed.

...Now what?

A few moments passed in silence. He bit the inside of his cheek anxiously, unsure of how to continue.

Mayday. Mayday. The hairs in the back of his neck stood up on end; his mind nervous and uncertain.

“A-anyway, that’s all I wanted to say,” he blurted out. “I know it’s a lot to take in; you don’t have to say anything back.” He let go of her hands and crossed his arms, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’d prefer if you said something back just so I know where we stand, but you definitely don’t have to,” he continued to ramble. “I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable between us, so I won’t mention it ever again if that’s what you want. I’ll always respect your wishes and do what you think is best, ‘cause I have complete faith in you and I–”

His nervous ramblings were cut short by warm, delicate lips delivering a featherlight kiss to his cheek, and Chat let out a small gasp despite himself.

“Was that alright?” she asked, her voice breathy and soft.

Chat practically swooned in disbelief. “More than alright,” he exhaled. “S-so… does that mean that you like m–”

Ladybug stood on her tiptoes and surged forward to capture his lips, answering his question in a way he never would have imagined when he woke up that morning.

There was no way this was actually happening. Was he still breathing?? The girl he loved not only liked him back, but was doing something he’d only ever dreamed about.

He decided to take a chance. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, to which Ladybug responded with a small, surprised moan, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. At some point, his hands had ended up on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, and he was sure she’d be able to feel his heart pounding.

Several blissful moments later, they separated to catch their breath but didn’t pull completely apart. Chat was sure that if he let go of her, he would surely melt into a puddle on the spot.

Ladybug panted lightly. “So… does that answer your question?” she asked, still smiling, her lips almost brushing against his.

Chat cleared his throat, then managed to stammer out in a raspy voice, “Uh, yeah, that works.”

He bent his neck forward so she wouldn’t have to stand on her tiptoes anymore, pressing his forehead against hers and closing his eyes in contentment. Surely this was too good to be true, right?! Was he asleep??

But as always, the overthinker in him struck again and a thought came to him. He furrowed his brow in concern as he became acutely aware of the fact that just because she liked him back didn’t mean she wanted to become anything more than partners. Maybe the kiss was a one-time thing and she wanted to keep things professional? He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Why can’t I just be satisfied with what I already have? This is more than I could ever ask for, so why press my luck?

Ladybug, perceptive as ever, noticed his unease.

“What are you thinking about, Chaton?” she whispered with a slight frown.

Deciding to be honest, he loosened his hold on her and stepped back, his jaw tensed. A few thoughtful seconds later, he tried to explain, “I just… What do you want me to be to you? I know we can’t exactly act like a ‘normal’ couple. It’s not like we can go to the movies or amusement parks together, and you can’t exactly take me to your house to meet your parents. So, umm… what happens next?”

Ladybug reached for his hand, squeezing lightly. “If you’re worried that I’m only interested in a fling or a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, I’m not. I don’t know how this is gonna work, and I do want to take things slow, but… you are so special to me, Chat. All I know is that I want you in my life. As more than teammates. Do you want that too?”

“Yes!” Chat exclaimed (a bit more emphatically than he’d intended) and nodded. “I want to make this work! I really do.”

She reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb, and he couldn’t help but lean into her caresses. “And, while I don’t think we really need a formal label for what we have, if giving it a name makes you feel better, then… What if we’re ‘dating’? What do you think? Sound good to you?”

Chat grinned, lifting his hand to run it through her long, dark hair. “It’s more than I could’ve ever hoped for,” he replied, completely elated. “I’ll make you happy, I swear it.”

She stepped back into his space and wrapped her arms around him, letting her hands wander until they settled on the base of his back. And even though he was much larger than her, her hugs always somehow managed to completely envelop him in feelings of safety and comfort.

“You already make me happy, you dork.”

Chat shifted his body so he could make eye contact with his beloved once again. His hand wandered to her jawline, which caused her to shiver with what he hoped was pleasure and anticipation. He made his way down her jaw towards her chin, his movements slow and deliberate, relishing how absolutely beautiful yet adorably shy she appeared in this moment.

Tilting her chin upwards with his forefinger, Chat leaned down and Ladybug’s eyes fluttered shut, her blush still visible under the faint glow of the balcony lights. Chat shut his own eyes in preparation…

...Only to bolt upright in alarm. His ears twitched and he whipped his head around, searching. Without a word, he scooped up Ladybug and bounded up onto the rooftop, landing behind the balcony wall. Ladybug let out a less than dignified “EEP!!”, clinging to him as she was whisked away.

Upon landing, she was about to ask Chat what was going on but he gently placed his finger on her lips. Then he moved it to his own lips, shaking his head. Ladybug understood and nodded. Then they stood there, still as a statue, and waited.

Hinges creaked as the hatch door swung open, and the pair heard someone climb out onto the balcony. Said individual took a deep breath of the fresh evening air, then walked towards the railing to look out into the city.

A few minutes passed, and Chat finally realized the rather intimate position he and Ladybug had put themselves in during their hasty escape. There he stood, back pressed to the wall, with his partner essentially plastered up onto him, their limbs an intertwined mess, leaving not even a sliver of free space between their bodies. Ladybug seemed to realize this at about the same time, and they looked to each other with matching flustered grins, blushing furiously. She made to move away slightly and give him some space—

But her yo-yo had partially unraveled during their clamber onto the roof, and had wrapped around them, becoming tangled in both his cape and his tail. She chuckled awkwardly, then began squirming— first lightly, then a bit more vigorously when it became clear that that was ineffective. Chat swore under his breath and bit his lip almost painfully, trying      very hard     not to think about their current situation. He had a feeling that somehow, somewhere, some omnipresent power was surely laughing about their current predicament.  

Why do these things always happen to me?  

A voice cut through the silence of the nighttime air, jolting them to a halt, and they ceased their struggles once again to listen in. Chat twisted his mouth, frowning. He wasn’t normally the type of person who enjoyed eavesdropping; but he didn’t exactly have a choice at the moment.

“What are you doing up here, Tom?” asked the voice of Sabine Dupain-Cheng as she climbed out onto the balcony.

“Oh, nothing. Just, uhh... getting some fresh air. No other reason,” Tom replied, with a tone that wasn’t entirely convincing.

Sabine made her way to stand next to her husband. “You wouldn’t happen to be waiting for a certain housecat to return from the akuma attack that happened earlier tonight, would you?” she asked knowingly.

Tom stammered, “N-no! No, of course not! I’m not waiting for anyone! And I’m certainly not worried! Nope, definitely not worried sick whatsoever; not at all.”

Sabine leaned into him with a playful giggle. “That’s what you say, dear. But I can tell you’re very fond of him.”

“I-I am not!” he sputtered. “I just… wanted to make sure he was going to show up at work tomorrow, that’s all. We have that big shipment of sugar coming in and—umm— my back is sore, so I’ll need the help! Yeah, that’s it. I’m just making sure he acts responsible.” He nodded solemnly, crossing his arms.

On the other side of the wall, Chat couldn’t help but crack a smile at Tom’s poorly-hidden concern. He’d never seen this side of him before, at least not as Chat Noir.

Sabine patted Tom on the back. “Well, you should come back inside. It’s pretty chilly tonight and we can’t have you catching a cold. He’ll be back soon. He’s probably just having some ‘alone time’ with Ladybug.”

Chat and Ladybug practically jumped at this statement, whipping their heads towards each other, then back down at their current predicament. Chat shrugged apologetically with a rather sheepish expression on his face, and it took all of Ladybug’s willpower not to laugh at how cute he looked.

“Hmph. You’re probably right,” they heard Tom say, and then footsteps as the married couple made their way back indoors.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea.”

With that, the balcony hatch closed, and the pair remained still for a few moments to verify that Tom and Sabine wouldn’t come back, in case they’d left anything behind.

Chat was the first to break the silence. “So, uhhh… Now what?”

Ladybug did her best trying to find and figure out where the biggest tangles were, but the range of her movement was quite limited.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see anything,” she replied. “And even if I could, I can’t move my arms much.”

“Same, my arms are pinned down. What should we do?”

Ladybug scrunched her face, deep in thought. A few moments later, her brows raised as an idea came to her.

“Uh… I have an idea, but it’s a bit risky.”

Chat cocked his head to the side with curiosity, waiting for her to elaborate. “Go on.”

“Well, umm… don’t freak, just hear me out. What if we detransformed?”

Chat looked at her like she’d suggested that they throw themselves into an active volcano, and she quickly added, “W-with our eyes closed, that is! That way, we can re-transform and everything will be in its proper place.”

Chat pondered her words. It did seem like the simplest, easiest solution.

“Well… Okay,” he replied. “Let’s do it. I swear I won’t look.”

Ladybug grinned widely at him. “I know. I trust you.”

She leaned into him, placing her head against his chest.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah. Claws in.”

“Spots off.”

A flash of neon green and pink briefly illuminated the rooftop, and then it was dark again.

A detransformed Chat couldn’t help but let out a gasp. This was the very first time he’d ever touched Ladybug without the barriers of their near-indestructible suits. Her shirt was made out of some lightweight fabric, much too thin for this kind of weather, as if she’d been lounging at home when the akuma attack had begun earlier and she’d left her house in a hurry. He took the opportunity to savor this moment, wrapping his arms around his Lady’s shoulders, keeping her close and warm.

His fingers touched something silky and sleek, and he almost gasped again in awe. “Your hair is down,” he uttered, almost too quiet for Ladybug to hear.

He felt her smile against his chest. He took this opportunity to glide his bare hand down her long, thick locks, relishing the feel, knowing he wouldn’t be able to touch her like this again. At least, not for who knows how long. He wished with all his heart they could stay like this forever.

Her body shifted slightly, and a beat later he felt her fingers sneak into his own hair, massaging his scalp in a comical manner.

“If you get to touch my hair, I get to touch yours,” she stated, her voice impish and playful. “Good Lord, what shampoo do you use?! Your hair is so soft!!”

Chat let out a hearty laugh. “I bet we look ridiculous right now, just two people on a roof groping each other’s heads. Good thing it’s too dark to see anything.

Ladybug snickered as she lowered her hands, holding onto him to help keep her balance. The rooftop was relatively flat, but the physical contact made her feel safer regardless. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone could see us if they were to look out their windows; it’s a new moon tonight. But we should still keep our eyes closed, just in case.”

She laid back into him and they embraced in silence, enjoying the calm. His hand traced gentle patterns on her back, and she nuzzled even closer to keep warm.

“Your voice,” Ladybug said, cutting through the stillness.

Chat raised an eyebrow. “Hmm? What about it?”

“It sounds different somehow. Kinda… softer? I dunno,” she said, shrugging slightly.

“Now that you mention it, you sound kind of different too,” he agreed.

The glamour magic must be stronger when they’re transformed, he realized. The magic was still present while in their civilian forms, albeit weaker. Out of costume, Ladybug’s voice sounded more… familiar somehow? He tried not to think about that too much; it was a dangerous line of questioning.

“D-do you like it?” he added, his tone tentative.

“Yeah!” she blurted out. “I-it’s nice. Really nice. I like it.”

He made a pleased sound, then replied, “And yours is lovely. I can’t wait til I get to hear more of it in the future.”

“Same.” Ladybug let out a long, contented sigh. “We should probably get going. They’re waiting for you inside. But you heard Mr. Dupain-Cheng; he’s most definitely not concerned about you,” she said with a snicker.

Chat busted out laughing. “He’s pretty great. Just cautious, is all.” Then he added jokingly, “He probably doesn’t want to get too attached, just in case I suddenly decide to go on a feral murder spree one day.”

Ladybug blew a raspberry and smacked him lightly on the chest. “Noooooo, I am one hundred percent sure he does not think that! I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time!”

“I hope so,” he replied with a chuckle. He hesitated before speaking again. “Umm, Bugaboo… Before we transform back, would it be alright if… if I kissed you again?” Ladybug’s entire body twitched in surprise. “Just once, as our real selves.”

He felt her chest rise and fall as she let out some flustered noises. She managed to settle down a bit, and replied in a hushed voice, “Yeah. Th-that would be nice.”

He moved his hand, blindly feeling around until he found the side of her face. He cupped her cheek with a featherlight touch, his other arm snugly around her waist, keeping her steady. She placed both hands on his chest, craning her neck back, eagerly awaiting what was to come. He lowered his face slowly, to avoid bumping their heads together. Their breaths mingled, shallow and nervous. Their first kiss out of the masks… would it feel any different, he wondered?

Their noses touched, and then—

BONK!

They let out a simultaneous “Ow!” and he had to remind himself to keep his eyes closed in his confusion.

Ladybug reached up to feel his face, then gasped in disbelief.

“Chat! You… you wear glasses!”

He snickered at her surprised reaction. “Is that so shocking? Do you not like glasses?”

She sputtered, “N-no! I mean, yes! I mean, th-that’s not it. I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all!”

Chat couldn’t help himself. “So would you say that you made a… spectacular discovery?” he said cheekily.

Ladybug let out a long, exaggerated groan at the pun as she plopped her head onto his chest, causing him to break into a barely-contained giggle fit.

“My soul just died a little from that terrible joke,” she croaked out.

“I apologize; that’s just how eye roll!”

Ladybug made an even more dismayed sound that resembled a deflating balloon, which only made Chat crack up even harder.

“You’re soooo awwwwfuuul,” she groaned, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“Here,” he said, sliding his glasses off his nose and onto the top of his head, resting just above the hairline. “Now they’re out of the way.”

“Good,” Ladybug giggled. “Because I’d really like to try again.”

He chuckled, angling his head down. “Whatever My Lady desires,” he replied, more than happy to comply.

-----------

Marinette glided across her bedroom, half-dancing, half-skipping, humming along to the music coming from her computer while she brushed her teeth. She paused to pick up her mannequin, spinning it around as if dancing with an imaginary partner.

“Marinette, you probably shouldn’t do that with a toothbrush in your mouth,” Tikki advised, though an amused smile tugged at her mouth.

“Hnn-kay,” Marinette replied with a giggle, setting down the mannequin, then made her way to the sink to finish up her bedtime routine.

When she was done, she walked over to where Tikki was resting at the desk, in a little handmade bed that could pass for a stylish pin-cushion or phone rest.

“Ready for bed?” she asked in a chipper voice, scooping up the kwami into her hands then heading up to her loft bed.

Tikki snickered at her charge’s excitement. This was definitely one of her favorite parts of mentoring a Ladybug. “Today was a good day for you, wasn’t it, Marinette?”

“Gosh, you can say that again!” she replied, voice high and giddy. “I just can’t believe it, Tikki! It feels like things just keep getting better and better. Now I get to plan our dates, gifts, anniversary milestones–”

Tikki raised a brow. “Uhh… Marinette, what happened to ‘taking things slow’?”

The girl pouted. “I am taking it slow! It’s not like I’m planning our wedding or anything!” The kwami rolled her eyes fondly in response.

Marinette set Tikki down on the pillow next to hers and flopped down stomach first. She turned around, still holding the pillow, and screeched happily into it, kicking her legs into the air. Tikki couldn’t help but giggle.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep with all this excitement?” she asked.

Marinette turned off the lights and snuggled under her blankets, squeezing her giant cat plushie.

“Yep! Boy, am I beat! I’m totally gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

Tikki smiled warmly. “Great to hear. Good night, Marinette.”

Marinette let out a long yawn and rubbed the top of Tikki’s head with her finger. “G’night, Tikki.” ------

(Mood Music: The Lonely - Christina Perri)

This was most certainly not a good night. Marinette’s bleary eyes glanced over at the clock next to her bed.

3:00 AM, it said.

She groaned inwardly. She’d woken up about an hour ago and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, despite being completely bushed.

Something just felt… off. Her stomach was churning and her skin felt like pins and needles. Should she check to make sure the front door is locked? Did she forget to do any homework? Was there a test tomorrow in one of her classes? She just couldn’t think of anything that would require her attention. Why was she feeling so stressed?? Frustration had set in, and she dreaded having to go to school tomorrow (or rather, later today, in a few hours’ time).

Maybe she just needed some water to calm down her nerves. Because that’s clearly what it was, right? Just some subconscious anxiety, maybe about the future, or getting into a good university, or having to defeat Hawkmoth.

Well… when put in that way, she supposed there were a few rather stressful things happening in her life. But even still! She hardly ever had a hard time sleeping before, because she was always exhausted!

She slowly scooted out of the bed, careful not to wake Tikki, and climbed down from her loft. Letting out a lengthy yawn, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water. Maybe that would help settle her stomach.

And yet somehow, now that she was here, the uneasy feeling intensified.

What the hell?!

The last time she'd felt this kind of unexplained restlessness and malaise was when…

...When she’d found Chat in that alley after his confrontation with Hawkmoth.

Panic sunk into her gut and she bolted towards Chat’s bedroom. She reached the door and was about to burst inside, but she paused. Maybe stampeding into someone’s room uninvited while they were asleep was a bad idea. Not wanting to wake him up, but not willing to leave until she was sure of his safety, she instead crouched and placed her ear against the door.

Expecting to hear nothing except maybe some light snoring, Marinette’s eyes widened when instead she heard whimpering and sobbing. Needing no further invitation, she entered the room.

Chat was curled up in a fetal position facing away from the door, shaking and crying. It was too dark to see clearly, but she could tell he wasn’t transformed.

Is he upset? Is he sick??

She called his name with a small voice, “Chat Noir?”

The panting and sobbing continued, getting stronger and stronger with each second that passed.

“Chat, what’s the matter?” She sat on the bed and placed her hand on his back. The fabric of his shirt clung to his skin; his body was drenched in sweat.

Again, there was no response. By this point he began to toss and turn, almost thrashing in distress and terror.

He’s still asleep, Marinette realized.

“Chat, wake up!” she cried, shaking him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his nightmare. “Kitty, please! Wake up!”

He turned towards her, hair covering his face and sticking to the damp skin, and she had to force herself to not look at him directly to keep his identity a secret.

Seemingly out of nowhere, he surged forward, seizing her by the upper arms, his grip tight as a vise, and Marinette cried out in surprise.

His head hung down, and he sobbed as he squeezed even harder, “No! I won’t do it! I won’t hurt them! You can’t force me!”

She ignored the pain in her arms and called, “Chat! Please wake up! It’s me, Marinette!”

“No!! I’ll never hurt Marinette! Not ever!” he cried in a quivering, desperate voice; then he groaned and hissed in pain, in a way she could only describe as the sound of someone being tortured.

“I’m here, Chat! Marinette is here! You’re safe at home! You’re having a nightmare! Open your eyes!”

He seemed to respond slightly, his hold on her slackening somewhat, and she took this chance to slip completely out of his grip. She threw her arms around his shoulders and he seemed to go limp. She whispered into his ear, “Shhh… It’s just me… You’re okay… you’re safe now. Everything is going to be fine. I’m here to help. Don’t be afraid...” She began to rub his back, making long strokes up and down his torso, hoping that touch would help to awaken him.

Her calm reassurances and rubbing of his back continued until Chat’s hyperventilating stopped, and he slowly seemed to come to. He let out a shocked gasp and threw his arms around her.

“M-Marinette?! Marinette!! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried, and she felt fresh tears drip onto her sleeve.

She cradled the back of his head. “Chat! Why in the world are you apologizing?!”

“For everything. For being so weak. For being nothing but trouble for you ever since I came into your life. I never meant for all this to happen. It would’ve been easier for you if you’d left me in that alley that first night. It would’ve been easier for you if you hated me, just like everyone else.”

“Minou, I could never hate you,” she reaffirmed fervently, which only made him sniffle harder. “No matter what you’ve done or what mistakes you’ve made, you are deserving of love. You’re a good person, and more people love you than you might think. Things will get better. I promise.”

She held him as he continued to cry quietly, the pair still wrapped in each others’ arms in the otherwise silent darkness.

After a while, she dared to ask, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but… How often do you have these kinds of dreams?”

She felt him hesitate, unsure of whether he should divulge this information; but a few seconds later, he relented, and answered in a small voice, “I’ve had vivid nightmares every night for as long as I can remember, ever since I became Chat Noir. But I haven’t had one this bad since before I moved in with you guys. And… I’ve always been able to wake up on my own.”

“Oh, Minou…” she lamented, then kissed the top of his head.

He sniffled a little, rubbing her arm up and down gently in silent apology. “Marinette, I’m sorry to ask, but… c-could you stay? Just for a little longer? I-I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, Minou. I can stay.”

“Oh, Mari… I was so scared,” he cried. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

She closed her eyes so she could lower her head and kiss his forehead, barely able to contain her affection for him; immensely relieved that he’d finally calmed down. They situated themselves in the bed, arranging themselves into a position that would be comfortable for them both, and she was careful to avoid looking directly at him. He nuzzled into her, hugging her waist, and thanked her quietly. She ran her fingers through his still slightly damp hair, hoping to help him get as relaxed as possible.

Before long, she noted that his breathing had finally slowed, and she was content to watch his torso rise and fall in a tranquil rhythm until, eventually, she too was lulled into a restful slumber.

Meanwhile, outside the slightly ajar guest bedroom door, a certain baker pursed his lips in dismay... and regret.

------

Discordant Sonata Music Youtube Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcYhk0HianmrUJWi61Hkbux08qc9oCTdB  

[sapphirewolf1122]

Coming in, Fat

Summary: All you want to do is use your quirk to help others. But sometimes, you go a little overboard.

Word Count: 1, 477

A/N: Sorry, got distracted by another project and didn’t finish my research in time to post this yesterday! But on the bright side, put together a wedding compilation video that I meant to do like three months ago! Anywho, this is just a scene that came from a convo I had with my sister about someone who had a quirk that let them manipulate their fat all around their body and, potentially, others. Which led to the idea of her swatting Fat Gum clear across a room...soooo, here ya ago. My sister may post a romantic version of this but I don’t wanna tag her and call her out like that. Thanks for reading and hope you like it!

“One bowl of miso ramen, topped with ajitama and negi, please. Oh, and ten onigiri, all tuna.”

The vendor eyed you doubtfully; you had distributed your fat pretty evenly today so you appeared to have a fairly thin figure. “Where you planning on putting all that food?”

“Food powers my quirk, so I have a heartier appetite than you might think,” you said with a smirk.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the vendor got to preparing your order. Soon, you were walking down the street, munching on one of your rice bowls. You had eaten the ramen by the vending cart before starting your patrol.

You hummed contentedly as you reached into your food bag for another rice bowl, though you still kept a sharp eye on the surrounding streets. There had been a rise in crime in this district recently so you’d decided to check it out. The one that was part of your usual patrol route had been very quiet lately, so you’d grown bored with it. Though your chest swelled with pride at the thought that you’d been part of the reason it had quieted down so much.

Your friends over at Naruhata had advised against patrolling out of your own town, saying that it led to a greater chance of getting caught red-handed. But you had brushed off their concerns. Disguising yourself was a specialty of yours after all.

Reaching into the bag again, your mind wandered back to when you were still in school. Many had been quite envious of your quirk, especially the girls. But no one had ever considered it worthy of hero work. Not even your parents, who had refused to let you even attend the hero course entrance exam at your local high school. To them, your quirk was all about looks. 

Which reminded you. Stopping to look at yourself in a shop window, you squinted, thinking about what to do with your features today. You didn’t want to be too recognizable after all. Hm…you’d go more masculine today. Your profile had you pegged as female, so assuming a male look would really throw them off.

Concentrating, you broaden your shoulders and maneuver some fat into your face so that your features were a bit more rugged. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do about your height.  But you found that it often worked to your advantage anyway. Thugs didn’t normally expect those who were smaller than them to beat them up so much. In fact, it sometimes became a bit of an issue…

You’re too hot-headed and brash with your quirk. And that’s what’s gonna get you in a load of trouble one day.

Tch. Hot-headed...it’s not hot-headed if they had it coming. They're the ones who decided to pick a fight. You were completely reasonable. Satisfied with your disguise, you pulled up your hood and turned to continue your patrol.

Only to be knocked back as a body slammed into you, causing you to drop your food as you landed on your behind. Dumbfounded, you stared at the scattered contents. None of the remaining rice balls were salvageable. You heard the person mumble something but that didn’t stop your vision from filling with red. What kind of monster exhibited such a nonchalant and wasteful attitude towards food?

Whipping around to the rapidly retreating figure, you watched as they turned down a side street. As they did, you thought you saw the glint of a weapon in their hand. Your eyes widened. Could this person be a villain in more ways than one?

Rushing to your feet, you chased after them, rounding the corner to the side street to find that it was relatively deserted. The villain was a ways ahead; you wouldn’t be able to catch up by running after them. Good, you hated running. 

Leaping into the air, you rapidly directed the majority of your fat into your legs, concentrating them around certain muscles for the most effective energy absorption. As you landed, you used the accumulated fat to send you springing forward again, this time higher and further than before. In fact, you may have overshot it a bit…

Suddenly, a yellow mass appeared in front of you with a yell. Unable to stop your fall at this point, you crashed into them, fully expecting both of you to go tumbling. Except...you didn’t? You’d barely registered that you were actually sinking into them before you shot back out.

As you flew back, your mind was racing. There was only one person who could’ve done that...only one hero.

You landed hard on the pavement. It took a lot of quick quirk improvisation on your part to keep you from getting too banged up; you managed to absorb most of the energy by concentrating your fat at key impact points. Still, you were left quite stunned once your tumble session was over.

Staring up at the sky, you had pretty much forgotten about the villain as your brain tried to process who had just launched you across the street. 

Could it really be him? What district was this again? You weren’t on his patrolling grounds, were you? How could you not know if it were his patrolling grounds? No, there was no way. You would totally know if you had a chance of running into Fa—

“Hiya.” A big, grinning face in a yellow hood appeared above you.

“Gah, Fat Gum!” You practically jumped out of your skin as you rolled upright.

“Sure am. You all right there? Seemed like a pretty nasty tumble.”

“I-I’m fine.”

The BMI Hero: Fat Gum, the pro hero whom you admire more than any other, cocked his head. “Yeah, looks like it. Got some sort of absorption quirk? What was that jump you just made? Y’know using your quirk in public is illegal right; if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were chasin’ that guy. Actaully, you seem kinda familiar…”

Fat Gum recognized you?!

Before your mind could spiral any further on what that could mean, you heard a shout behind you. Turning, you saw a red-headed boy holding onto the guy who had knocked you over.

“Hey Fat, I got ‘im! Didn’t put up much of a fight. That other hero okay? That sure was a manly jump!” He gave you a sharp-toothed grin.

“Good job, Red. Detain him til the cops can get here. And all good here; was actually just about to ask our friend some questions. For one, they ain’t no hero.”

Crap, that didn’t sound good. “I...uh…” You started to back away but froze when Fat Gum placed his hand on your shoulder.

“In fact, looks like we got ourselves the vigilante, Futoi. She’s normally pretty hard to catch since she can manipulate her looks with her quirk but it seems she’s used up her excess fat.”

At his remark, you automatically went to touch your face to find that he was right. Your disguise had melted away due to the lack of fat left in your body. You felt a spark of your anger from before come back; this is why you’d needed those rice balls!

“Now young lady, please come with me. You’re wanted for several counts of illegal quirk use.”

Shaking off his hand, you backed away with a shake of your head. “I just use my quirk to help people! To help heroes like you catch the bad guys!”

Fat Gum’s smile seemed to soften. “While that is very noble of you, without a license, that is considered the work of a vigilante.”

“It’s not my fault my quirk wasn’t deemed worthy of one,” you scowled, aware that you sounded rather bitter.

“Perhaps not, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you’ve performed illegal actions and for that—” 

Fat Gum had started to reach for you again but, panicked, you swung at him, using his own excess fat to your advantage to send him flying. He crashed into a wall, blinking at you in surprise. Both you and Red Riot stared after him in shock. You recovered your senses first though and turned to sprint away.

Holding back tears, you mentally yelled at yourself. You attacked Fat Gum! Your hero role model! You had dreamed of joining his agency if you ever managed to obtain a license. Now you had made sure that would never happen. Ugh, Koichi would never let you hear the end of this.

~~~~~~~

Back in the alley, Fat Gum still lay among the rubble where he had landed, staring after you in shock. Kirishima rushed towards him, dragging the unconscious thug with him.

“Fat, you okay?! How could she send you flying like that?”

It was several moments before Fat answered. “Someone get that girl a license and sign her up for my agency immediately. Also, find me some takoyaki, will ya?”

~~~~~~~

A/N2: Yes, I know, I wasn’t very original with the vigilante name...but I like names to have meaning and I feel like Reader wouldn’t have really put much thought into it.

I tried to incorporate a few references to the Vigilante series; that was actually what my extra research was, haha. Wasn’t til after I wrote up the first draft of this that I remembered that Fat Gum literally featured in the series about vigilantes. Obviously, this is set a lot further down the timeline than where the current volumes are at.

Finally, if anyone has any name suggestions for the fic, I’m open to recommendations. Thank you again for reading!

[extraordinarilyirrelevant]

Back again with my bullshit!

Like I don’t even know what to say for this crack-iest of crackfics. It started out with me wondering how Kakuzu would be as a kid and wondering if he’d still be as obsessed with money as he is in canon, me thinking up that whole scene of Kid kuzu explaining how tax works to Hidan and then evolved into:

‘Kid kuzu would totally still be the adult with the man child Hidan’ and then BAM, this happened

That’s why you’ll notice the first part I refer to Kakuzu as his name and not Kid kuzu as I do sometime in the middle, it started out as a draft, me just putting my thoughts to paper and then crafting a story behind it. I mean I could quickly change it but shut up

That’s ALSO why it’s never stated that Hidan wants to get closer to Kakuzu until like the kid kuzu section, but what can you do? (see shrugging gif above)

Summary: through reasons not explored, Kakuzu somehow turns into a kid. Pain gives them time off until they fix things Hidan’s left to look after him

----

Hidan was scrutinizing the map pain given him with intense focus. Apparently, there was a empty house of one of Akatsuki’s suppliers that was willing to let the two use his estate that he only used on business trips outside his nation, located in Iwagakure they had quite the walk to get there from amegakure

The two would be station there until Kakuzu’s underlings got information on how to reverse this jutsu and turn the miser back to normal

The miser in question, was… well not himself. Even looking at the kid was weird, the taki missing nin was no longer his opposing and menacing self. He barely reached Hidan’s stomach and had short hair with plain old clothes, and don’t get Hidan started on those eyes-

“Woah!” Hidan yelped in surprised as he nearly tripped over exposed root sticking out of the ground. He only managed to save face thanks to small hands grabbing his cloak 

“Every good ninja is aware of their surroundings” Kakuzu stated as a matter of fact, sounding quite unimpressed by Hidan’s slip up “What? Can’t multitask?” Kakuzu asked in a slightly mocking tone

“This fucking map!” Hidan snapped, stopping his urge to rip the damn thing in half “It’s fucking confusing as all hell, I can’t tell where the fuck we are or where we’re suppose to go!” He ruffled his silver hair in frustration when Kakuzu wordless snatched the thing away from him

“And that blasted leader wasn’t any help at all” Hidan grumbled in a foul mood “Go where the trees form a natural path” He mocked the instructions given to him “Fucking atheist should’ve at least pointed me in the right direction, I swear to Jashin I’ll curse him one day”

Hidan haltered in his step when Kakuzu suddenly changed directions

“The hell are you going?”

“The right way” He answered simply as he jumped up into the trees

“Oi! Wait up!” Hidan called out as he jumped in after him, and was forced to follow after the boy as he didn’t relent or stray from their new path

----

Hidan panted as he looked down at the house they’d be staying in, It was rather large and spacious, tradition down to the secluded pond with a Rock Waterfall, with bonsai tree on either end of the yard

Kakuzu was the first to hop into the yard, landing near the stone path leading into the house. Hidan followed suit and continued looking around, catching a enclosed enclave situated between the house’s structure. It was a damn nice place

Entering, it was traditional as tradition got with Tatami mats covering the expansion of the floor save for the wooden entrance where one was meant to take off one’s shoes. Kakuzu proceeded in, respectfully taking his shoes off and getting acquainted with their new living space for the time being; only briefly considering ransacking the place of it’s goods and pawning them off to get more money, before he reminded himself that he frequented business with this man and that it’s be unwise to tarnish that relation

Hidan stormed past him in excitement, Kakuzu noticing with distaste that the zealot didn’t bother showing the proper pleasantries of taking his shoes off. Sighing before opening a room up to find a single lone table accompanied by cushions adorning the floor, eating place he noted before closing the sliding doors

Walking down the hallway further, Kakuzu wanted to find the washroom to shower before heading to bed, it was a long journey to Iwagakure and the duo travelled nonstop for two days just to get here

At least this house was relatively secluded from any town or village, less people aware of their stay the better

“Kakuzu!” Hidan called out for him, making his way over to where the voice came from, he found Hidan in the bedroom “Look at that bed! It’s like fucking royalty!” He exclaimed as he jumped onto the big cushion-y bed. Nearly being devoured by it when he sank in before he sprung back up to land just before Kakuzu

“And their bathroom isn’t to shabby either” Hidan smirked that smirk that always managed to piss Kakuzu off “Want to take a bath together?”

Kakuzu blanked at that

“Hidan?”

“Yeah?”

“Say something that disgusting again, and I’ll drown you in the pond to feed the koi fish” Kakuzu threatened seriously to which Hidan only snickered “Fucking relax heathen, didn’t you bath with your parent growing up? I mean you’re a kid now. I won’t exactly be looking forward to seeing anything down there”

Although Hidan had a valid point, it still irked Kakuzu making his blood boil “I can manage on my own. Just go to bed, you can shower tomorrow morning”

“Oi!” Hidan yelled catching his attention “You’re the brat now got it, whatever I say goes!”

“That logic is as deluded as you” Kakuzu mused as he entered the bathroom and locked the door, ignoring the shouts of protest outside, opting to take his clothes off and start his shower

----

----

“I thought everyone knew people with higher taxable incomes are subject to higher tax rates, and people with lower taxable incomes are subject to lower tax rates?” Kid kuzu seemed legitimately confused that this wasn’t common knowledge “Your tax bracket is based on “taxable income”, which is your gross income from all sources, minus any tax deductions you may qualify for” He explained while going through the finance sheets with minimum difficulties, only occasionally pulling out a calculator to punch some numbers in before scribbling down some more numbers

Kid kuzu sighed “A tax deduction is a dollar amount you can subtract from your taxable income. The lower your taxable income, the lower your tax bill” the boy explained further when Hidan looked although he were speaking a foreign language “Being an adult I figured you’d have at least the bare minimum knowledge for this sort of thing, but I guess I was expecting too much”

“Listen here you little shit, I denounced material crap the moment I devoted myself to Jashin-sama! Whatever I need, I kill for it” Hidan went to jab his chest only for a small hand to catch the appendage with ease, bending it enough to strain muscles in a wordless threat of breaking the damn thing should Hidan do anything else

“Jashin sounds like the god of poverty” He stated bluntly as he threw Hidans hand back at him and closed his little book before setting it aside and standing up “I find religion to be a waste of time, it certainly doesn’t pay bills. Now if you’d excuse me, I’m going outside” Kakuzu explained as he opened the sliding door leading outside, taking a book with him as he hopped into the gated backyard

“Where are you going?” Hidan asked, peaking his head out to see the little fucker as he made his way to the shade of a tree to sit down and start reading in silence

Hidan growled as he hopped into the backyard too, hands on his hips as silence stretched between the two. Kid kuzu seemingly content to read in silence “What are you doing?” Hidan asked annoyed

“Don’t ask questions with obvious answers” Kakuzu snarked back at him without skipping a beat “But I guess someone as stupid as you never heard of it; it’s called ‘reading’.” All without looking up from his book

“I get that you smartass, but why the hell did you bother coming out here for?” At that Kakuzu looked up at him, his green eyes (alarmingly normal with the absence of red sclerae) before cocking a brow in silent question

“You could’ve easily read inside” Hidan pointed out

“Habit” He answered curtly

“Growing up in Takigakure a epidemic of sorts spread, and my mother was bed ridden. She was the superstitious type and wouldn’t want me near her in fear that she’d infect me with this unknown illness plaguing our village. Sounded like rubbage to me, but she kept pestering me about it” Kakuzu shrugged and let his shoulders sag some as he relaxed against the bark “So whenever I wasn’t keeping up with our financial situation for us, I’d go outside to read” wordlessly gestured to the book

Hidan couldn’t believe he was doing this, but if it meant getting closer to Kakuzu it was worth a shot. Perching in a crouched position to get on the smaller boys level, Hidan sighed as he ran a hand through his silver locks before asking “And how did that… make you feel?” Even to him it sounded awkward as all hell, he almost regrets even asking until Kakuzu simply shrugged

“My mother always kind of annoyed me, she was weak willed and had serious insecurity from father leaving. So she tended to smother me” Kakuzu recalled “Although I worried for her health as many kids would, I found interest in the adult world. Money was fascinating to me, even as a kid. It was the most powerful force the world had”

“What do you mean?”

“With money you could do anything. Money had the power to save or ruin lives. Take my mother for example, because our money was going into paying off our property, we hardly had any left for her. So when she became ill, she couldn’t get the proper medical treatment she required and died because of it. Money and our lack thereof killed her” he answered in a bored tone as he flipped the page

Hidan wasn’t one to care for death, that shit happened. So, he didn’t really know how to approach this. Should he laugh it off and say that’s Jashin’s divine punishment for placing money above god like he always did? Or try sympathizing? Hidan really didn’t know since he easily sees the brat getting annoyed with either one he chose. The silence stretched between the two and Hidan let it since Kakuzu himself seemed content to leave it as that

“The fuck” Hidan mumbled as he finally took note of the book in Kakuzu’s hand and blanked when he read the title ‘how to make a profit’ Hidan scoffed, leave it to kid kuzu to read boring ass shit like that for fun

Snatching the book, Hidan stood at his full height when Kakuzu snarled and tried grabbing it back

“Hidan” Kakuzu’s voice was like that of a patient mother a second away from scolding a child, Hidan found that ironically hilarious seeing how Kid kuzu barely came up to his stomach “Give that back” He demanded with a glare

“Haven’t you ever been a kid? I mean I now back in your day it was expected to be a ninja from a young age, but damn. I think I’m starting to see why you’re such a grouch all the god damn time” Hidan noted with a sympathetic shake of his head “Come on little guy” Hidan said as he tossed the book behind him uncaring as he hefted the kid up by the arms

“Hidan. Put me down” Kakuzu said not really struggling. But he sounded immensely annoyed to Hidan’s amusement

“Can’t believe this small body of yours becomes your imposing self later in life. I bet puberty hit you like a truck” Hidan chuckled, and when Kakuzu began struggling in his hold. The zealot could only find his efforts cute

“Where are we going?” Kakuzu question unamused. He promptly gave up knowing struggling would be pointless. Hidan wished he kept at it, it really was adorable watching his tiny arms and legs thrash about

“To the park”

“Hidan, I’m not going to play” Kakuzu spat the word ‘play’ out in a disgusted manner

“And why the hell not?” Hidan spat back

“Because I’m a grown ass man nearing 100” He answered dryly

“To anybody and everybody you look like a kid, I bet even other Akatsuki members wouldn’t recognize you” the platinum haired man tried to reason “Just fucking let loose and take this chance to have fun”

“My definition of ‘fun’ isn’t that of a normal persons Hidan. My fun is silence, my fun is curled up under the shade of a tree with a good book. Not doing pointless play and socializing more than I must” Kakuzu began resisting again, giving a loud growl of frustration when he gave up yet again as he didn’t even budge in Hidan’s grip

“And it’s definitely not being carried off by my idiot partner to be forced to do just that” Hidan stopped, setting Kakuzu down, Kakuzu was surprised at this and looked up at him as they silently held each others gaze

“Can we do something?” It sounded like a plea, and Kakuzu hardened a glare at the sound of it

“Like what?” He ground out, crossing his arms angrily as he really couldn’t be bothered to do anything. He just wanted to read damnit

“What do you want to do” Hidan paused and looked to consider something before he added “That’s not reading” Kakuzu tsk’d audibly

Time passed as Kakuzu mulled over what the two could do together

More time passed, a gentle breeze whipping past the duo

“…”

“You really can’t think of anything can you?” Hidan asked with a small amount of pity in his voice, it pissed the miser off

“Well what did you do back in your day? Did you find anything enjoyable? Anything at all?” Hidan prompted, trying desperately to get something. But Kakuzu was giving him nothing to work with

“Training”

“Huh?” Hidan asked stupidly, dumbfounded

“Training” Kakuzu reiterated “It was the few things me and my father used to do together before he left. I remember learning how to throw kunai was fun” He explained

Hidan beamed startling Kakuzu

“Then let’s fucking“ Hidan drawled to look around trying to find a place to practice, not seeing anything “er- Let’s fucking do it” Hidan nodded before grabbing the smaller hand in his to drag him back to the backyard of their little impromptu house

‘Progress’ was all the albino could think. After spending an entire week with the man, finally he was making some real progress. He couldn’t screw it up

----

“You need to flick your wrist and add more power” Kakuzu explained with mild irritation

“It’s not my fault I never fucking use these things, I mean who would with a scythe like this” Whipping it off of his back he made a show of showcasing his prized weapon by flinging it around like a madman Kakuzu sighed

“You graduated without perfecting this simple trick?” Kakuzu questioned in disbelief “my, how far have shinobi fallen?”

“Hmph, this whole thing is stupid anyways” Hidan concluded snobbily as he turned his nose up and crossed his arms over his chest

“Nobody forced you to do this you know, let’s just call it quits”

“No!” Hidan said hurriedly only to scratch the back of his head awkwardly “I mean, I think I almost got the hang of it”

“…” Kakuzu stared at his partner before narrowing his eyes “Not even close” He stated bluntly “Your trajectory was awful; your wrist flick needs work and your power was pathetic”

“Hah?! You got a problem you little shit?! I’ll fricken sacrifice you to Jashin-sama don’t test me!”

“Calm down” Kakuzu glared over at him “I’m sure that even someone as hopeless as you could learn to do this if you tried harder” Kakuzu explained as he walked over to the man, stopping just in front of him and stared up at the man before gesturing for the man to lower himself

Hidan did after a second, and Kakuzu held his hand. Hidan jolted at the contact not expecting it in the slightest before Kakuzu adjusted his grip on the kunai and turning to position his hand properly before taking a step back

They stared at each other, Hidan in stunned silence before it became apparent that Kakuzu wanted him to try throwing it now “…” keeping his hold the way Kakuzu adjusted it for him, he lined up his shot before whipping it like a dart

-Twunk- the sound of the kunai’s sharp edge embedding into the wooden tree of bark. It missed the target’s middle by quite a bit. But it was an improvement seeing how Hidan couldn’t get the damned thing to stick before now

“See?” Kakuzu asked condescendingly, pissing the jashinist off

Kakuzu walked over once more to handed him his own kunai, Hidan took it and again Kakuzu stared at him. Knowing what that meant he did his best to hold the weapon like how Kakuzu showed him before throwing it again

“Oh!” Hidan gleefully cheered once it nearly hit the center “Did you fucking see that shit?” He questioned snapping his head from the target to kid kuzu and back

Kakuzu let out a chuckle at his overzealousness of his minor (and admittingly unimpressive) accomplishment “I did indeed” He needlessly informed the other

By the time the sun was setting, Kakuzu realized that they spent practically the whole day kunai throwing

“Hidan, make diner” Kakuzu demanded as he stalked towards the house, his hands were killing him. He can’t remember the last time he did the basics of kunai throwing for so long

“Take out?” Hidan asked, not really feeling up to cook, his arms were quite sore as well, turns out making a competition of who can hit the center of a target the most in an hour was draining (Kakuzu won)

“Don’t be lazy, we can’t let just anybody find out we’re here. I mean, if anyone saw your face, they’d recognize you as part of the Akatsuki immediately”

“Fiiine~” Hidan whined as he stomped his feet childishly to the kitchen, surprised when soft sounding footsteps followed after him. Peering over his shoulder he saw his ‘little’ companion

Kakuzu picked up on his silent question “I could cut the vegetables” was all he said

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Watches Anime (April 26)

I haven’t made one of these for a while, and after the first draft went and deleted itself, I wondered whether it was worth making another one (I make these primarily for myself then get really surprised whenever people notice these). During harsh times like these, I find myself being drawn to the cheesiest and the most cringe-inducing shows, but maybe I just like them because you can put them on double-speed without missing a thing because you know what’s going on. It’s like instant noodle broth: satisfying, warming, but you know it’s going to kill your insides with self-crisis. Seriously, I didn’t come to terms that I really, really like romance as a genre until a little while ago. 

With that being said, I want to take a short break from romance now. 

I often ask myself, “Why are you watching these when you can be watching really good anime?” Well, that’s probably because I don’t want to have my analytical brain on right now. I want to watch an anime that takes two brain cells to enjoy. I only have two. Once I garden some more, maybe then will I get into the stuff I know I will enjoy like Hunter x Hunter (2011)

Things that I just started but couldn’t get into

NHK ni Youkoso! (1/24)

For one, I didn’t want to watch this before because it would’ve hit too close to home. The show’s about a NEET aka a freeloader (not in employment, education, or training), and I’m... almost that description (but that’s mostly because of the pandemic). Really, this show is riddled with paranoia, and it wants you to really know that with its changing art styles to its cynical script lines to its main character honestly needing some help (seriously, he needs help). I read further (aka spoilers) and realized that I probably won’t have fun with this anime right now, and I will never touch the manga because that stuff is even more insane than its adaptation. NHK ni Youkoso is about people who fall between the cracks of normal standard society and their desire to seek their own normal by any means necessary, and during stressful times, I think it belongs on the backburner.

Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei (2/12)

After seeing how much I enjoyed Kakushigoto (which will be mentioned later, I just thought, “Wow, I want to see that other really famous work!” I didn’t enjoy it at all. I forgot why I put the series on-hold. It’s about a suicidal teacher who will stop at nothing to die then ask people why they almost killed them. Through a bunch of errors, he ends up becoming some sort of a harem king to his students (and he attracts the weirdos). I enjoyed the lengths Studio Shaft went to to make this anime appear the way it does (which helps in a lot of ways), but I just can’t continue with it until a much later date.

Appare-Ranman! (2/?)

I just lost interest after looking at the rest of the cast. I’m all for being vibrant and out there, but some of those character designs imitate more of a “racial stereotype/caricature”. I’m not saying that I dropped the show only because of that (I’m quite dense when it comes to that), but I didn’t like the characters either. I can’t get behind a show that won’t let me enjoy it a single moment over two episodes. 

I’ll pick it up again later (probably)

Free! (5/12)

I feel like they’re shoving fanservice a lot. I try to skip every fanservice scene, and I managed to watch up to episode 5 in less than an hour, and I didn’t even get through them all. But I will say that ending is stuck in my head now. (humming)

This show has taken me at least two attempts to watch so far. Let’s see how many more it takes before I finish/give up!

Darker Than Black (18/25)

I’ll probably finish this one for the sake of finishing it. I just find that the episodic nature gets stale after a while, and the overarching story is often disregarded. In exchange, we do get some fun side stories, character development, and world building, but I’d like to settle down too, you know?

Clannad (1/23)

Yeah, I’m doing that now. I’m going to see whether my feels bones are as strong as they were before... after I take a hiatus because I’m not sure if I’m in the appetite for that kind of romance now that I’ve watched two shoujo in a row. 

Sousei no Onmyouji (20/50)

I bet you, someone was like, “Let’s throw all these shounen cliches into a pot then see what comes out!” Bruh, this is bordering that story I wrote when I was 14, and I’m not even dissing this anime. I enjoyed it but need a break now. It’s very cliche, predictable, and honestly, I can see why it has such a low rating. Studio Perriot likes cutting corners sometimes with their long-running series (*stares at Naruto*), and this anime is no exception. Sometimes, it feels like a visual novel. “We don’t need to animate anything if she’s so fast that no one can see her.” Dang, but it gets repetitive. It also has a magical girl power that only works when the main couple does it? Cool, but that also gets repetitive. I just didn’t see myself watching the same thing another 30 times (at least right now).

Maison Ikkoku

I’m actually on the fence about continuing this one. It’s really sweet, but I’ve had my fill of romance. I have been wanting to watch some more Rumiko Takahashi works though. There’s no reason for me not to continue this. It gives me strong Princess Jellyfish vibes (which I should also finish). 

Recently Finished

Itazura na Kiss

Just... end my suffering. It’s not worth it. The thing about shoujo anime is that I watch it late at night when my brain is at its worst when it comes to analyzing or taking in any emotional circumstances. Then I asked myself, “Would I want any young, impressionable people to watch this?” And my first thought was “F**K NO!” This anime was an absolute trainwreck. As my Discord friend put it “It’s so bad, yet you can’t look away!” But what makes this anime unique? What sets it apart? It shows life after high school. Just like Clannad, it shows that life is more than your secondary education. There is more to life than just being a teenager. I’m not saying these characters ever grew though because that’d be a FAT JOKE. 

Episodes 1-13: Girl gives boy a love letter. He laughs and doesn't even want it and goes "no thanks". Girl gets upset. Then they find out they're living under the same roof after the girl's dad made them a house out of popsicle sticks (because the dads are childhood friends). She keeps trying to push herself onto him, and his mom joins in and is plotting so much more than you'd expect. The best part is that this main girl already has a childhood friend who's like "please marry me. I'll cook for you, work for you, take a bullet for you, slice my head off if it means you won't chip a nail--" then the girl replied by chasing after the guy who calls her stupid on a daily basis and genuinely believes she can't do anything. 

Episodes 14-25: Guy gets dragged to his own wedding and generally does not care for the girl unless she’s either not looking or is on death’s bed. He practically deserts her every other time, and we’re supposed to think it’s romantic when he finally gives a crap about his wife (even when she’s pregnant). The show constantly reminds you that even other characters have doubts that our main character cares about anyone other than himself and his aloofness. They have a bunch of missed affairs including a hoe that tries to leave her husband on her honeymoon to get with Mr. Aloof and a nursing student that genuinely cares about MC and the fact that her husband doesn’t care about her at all.

The moral of the story of this anime: If you chase after somebody long enough, they will cave in and marry you even if they don’t like you, want you, insult you, bully you, or generally show all the signs of an unwilling partner.

Anyway, this anime is crap. I can’t believe I watched it. I want those few hours back (I fast-forwarded a lot, okay?) I can’t believe I finished it. Looking back makes me want to press undo. Having this under my history is a shame to my family. Even if I was sleepy and generally out of it, that’s no excuse for choosing this. Sayonara

 I will say that Daisuke Hirakawa and Nana Mizuki did give good character voices despite the circumstances. That, and I haven’t heard from Hirakawa besides those couple of scenes from School Days (which... is a different type of romance), Free! (which I dropped when his character joined), that gumball scene from Jojo, and that introduction to him being the new Demon Slayer villain. I didn’t realize he was that old though.

Special A

This is one of the anime that my sister watched, and I thought, “I need to be reminded of what a somewhat healthy relationship can be” I wasn’t disappointed because the last anime left such a bad taste in my mouth that literally anything could’ve soothed the aching wound which was bad decision making. Even under regular circumstances, I probably still would’ve enjoyed it, but since it came at the right time, I give it an extra nod of approval. I also never realized that the second opening was inadvertently drilled into my brain because I kept overhearing my sister watching it. Now that I’ve grown up, I realize I was listening to the voices of some of my favourite seiyuu. Go figure. 

The story was really sweet with characters that I genuinely liked by the end (not my favourite cast by a very long shot, but it was slightly above average). It was slightly above average for me in a lot of ways (ironically), and it was enjoyable. The art is very fitting for its time, the music was very... ordinary, and the story was simple enough that you knew exactly what was going to happen at any given moment. This show should be titled: Special A(ppreciation for those brave people who have fallen in the friendzone; we’ll get ‘em next time). 

Akatsuki no Yona OVAs 

Unlike the actual TV series, this stuff actually ends conclusively without ending on the CLIMAX OF THE BIG ARC. SERIOUSLY, I WAS ROBBED. You can say, “There’s a perfectly good manga right there.” Shut up. I want my fight scenes animated with a big helping of a strong female lead. It gave me a sudden appreciation for Hiro Shimono and his character Zeno who literally just inserted himself in last minute in the anime (but these OVAs perfectly explain everything). You probably shouldn’t watch the anime without watching these OVAs because they’re canon, funny, and touching at times. It enhances the series.

According to the animation, we know it can do fight scenes. Give us another season, cowards! Actually, it’s Studio Perriot, so if we ever get it, it might be two stickmen duking it out. 

Haikara-san ga Tooru Movie 2

You know, I really enjoyed the movie. The first one. This one? Not so much. Actually, I felt so done. I was looking forward to this so much. It’s like going to a restaurant, expecting really good pasta, and then being served some leaves from the weeds out back. Eventually, it tastes better when you add some dressing and cheese, but it still isn’t a bowl of pasta. This show casts aside everything I like about it (present-tense because they didn’t kill everything of it) and leaves one little inkling of its valued ideas. Instead, we get a romance-chasing movie that feels a bit more like an amnesia fiction that’s slightly higher quality than usual. I can’t say I regret watching the movie. There were some redeeming qualities, but they jumped from a 9/10 to a high 6/10 that managed to squeak itself into an overall 7/10. 

(This gif is from the first movie, but I can’t find any from the second movie anyway)

Currently Watching (Not Seasonal)

Samurai Champloo

This anime is a staple of Shinichiro Watanabe, and after this, I will probably watch Cowboy Bebop, Carole & Tuesday, and Space Dandy. I did enjoy Sakamichi no Apollon and Zankyou no Terror. 

Plus, after all that romance, I need some samurai slaughter. The fight scenes and the music get me every time. I don’t even need to say anything else about the anime. The fight scenes are enough to watch alone.

[firstdove15]

2019 Fic Roundup

I actually wrote enough this year to answer most of these questions. 😂 If you haven’t done this yourself, feel free to join in the fun! ❤️💕

Stats

Total words written: 18,030

Shortest story: The Death of a Montague (832)

Longest story: Akane One-Half (ongoing) (14k+ in general; roughly 11k this year, FFN)

Fics Posted (Gen)

Akane One-Half: More like updating because I’ve been writing on and off for two years but I did add three chapters this year.

Through the Forest: It’s technically gen because Pidge and Lance don’t have romantic feelings for each other (yet). It was completely inspired by @krissychan2 ’s art of them as nymph and fairy respectively.

Fics Posted (Plance)

Love from the Future - Inspired by a prompt generator that said to write about a person who gets a typewriter and finds a love letter from the future and they attempt to find that person. I didn’t follow the prompt to the T but I had fun with it. And getting encouragement from @rueitae during the letter part meant a lot because I was worried about it staying in-character and whether or not it was going to be too fluffy. X3

Chocolat - Self-indulgent oneshot inspired by a little college get together. XD It was actually originally going to be part of a multichapter story (that I thoroughly outlined from beginning to end, no less!) but it just didn’t work out. OTL

Fics Posted (Rosvolio)

The Death of a Montague - The prompt was to write a fic based on a song for Rosvolio and I knew right away I wanted to do it to Brendon Urie’s Death of a Bachelor. Plus I’m a sucker for guys taking on the wives’ last name. XD

Specifics

Best Title: The Death of a Montague. Only because of Brendon Urie though since his title was genius to describe a man happily getting married. Same thing here on top of Benvolio cutting off the last remaining ties to his abusive uncle.

Worst Title: Probably Through the Forest. I could’ve picked a better title to reflect the game Lance was playing on Pidge or his motives, but *shrugs*.

Favorite opening lines:

-

“I caught you, you sneaky little bastard!”

The fairy in her hands didn’t even try to struggle from her grasp. Instead he licked the remaining berry juice off the corner of his lips and grinned at her. “So you have, little nymph.”

-

I was fresh off of writing for Akane One-Half so, yeah, that’s why you’re seeing swearing from me here. XP

Favorite closing lines:

-

The card included two ticket stubs for the Killbot Phastasm movie that long faded. He wondered if Lance knew she kept it all these years.

He put the card down and got to work. He’d let him find it. It would be another opportunity for her to talk about her feelings with current Lance rather than past Lance.

He smiled at the thought.

Tonight would be a good night.

-

Endings aren’t my strong suits but I did like tying up the stable time loop. XD

General Questions:

- Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?

Given my personality, just about what I predicted. I wish I had done more though. Oh well, that’s what 2020 is going to be for. XD

- What pairing/genre/fandom did you write most?

Plance/fluff/Voltron respectively. Especially fluff because The Death of a Montague was fluffy and Akane One-Half had some fluff toward the end of the last chapter I posted on FFN.

- What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Rosvolio/Still Star-Crossed for sure! I wish I hadn’t taken so long with the soulmate AU but I’m still in the middle of writing it so it’ll be for this year. XD

- Did you take any writing risks this year?

Other than trying to get familiar with Pidge and Lance’s personality? Not really. 😅 I almost did with one of the oneshots in mind to take place after Through the Forest (I actually had a rough draft of it), but I was worried one of them would be too dark. I mean, I’ve written dark stuff before, but someone probably would’ve been like, “What the heck, Faye?!” and I wouldn’t have blamed them one bit. XDD

- Do you have any fanfic or general writing goals for the new year?

Well, I saved up and got a new laptop so I’m just hoping I’ll be more productive this year writing wise.

- What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest?

Hoo, boy. Tie between Through the Forest and Love from the Future. The former because I was happy to write something coherent inspired by a beautiful piece of art and the latter because fluff. ❤️💕

- Okay, NOW your most popular story.

Definitely Love from the Future and I’m okay with that. XD

- Story most underappreciated by the universe:

Haha, Chocolat. Which I am also okay with because 1) It was literally just posted and 2) It was super self-indulgent. XP

- Story that could’ve been better:

The Death of a Montague. Most of my energy went into the sonnet (it took me HOURS to compose that sonnet alone 😂) so I felt like I didn’t put as much heart into the rest of the story. T_T. But a good amount of people enjoyed it and I appreciated that.

- Story with the sexiest scene:

HAHAHAHA! I JUST CAN WRITE A CHASTE KISS SCENE.

- Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

N/A. Again, if I had gone with that oneshot as a sequel to Through the Forest, that would have been a different story. To be fair, it was going to follow the aftermath of the Thing™ rather than during, but still….

- Saddest story?

Eh, none of them really? I mean Through the Forest has super light angst but only toward the end. Pidge clearly missing her brother and the story alluding to Lance having lost someone permanently. The second other sequel would have been part fluffy part angsty but… there is a reason I haven’t gone through with them for editing/posting…

- Most fun?

Let me shake it up and say Akane One-Half. XD Everything is still a puzzle and I think I’m getting the gist of how most events will go.

- Story with single sweetest moment?

Chip and his scenes with Lance and Pidge, I think in Love from the Future. ❤️💕

- Hardest story to write?

I mean, I had challenges with the parts that were supposed to be the meat of the story (e.g. the love letter and the sonnet) but outside of that I could recognize when something needed to be cut or expanded on and I’m happy for that.

- Easiest/Most fun story to write?

Chocolat. XD Got to include Hunk being a troll and not being afraid of Pidge’s wrath because he’s currently overseas. He has to come back to America sometime. 😂

- Did any stories shift your perceptions of the characters?

That’s part of the point of me writing Akane One-Half. Wanted to see if changing the situation would change their characters and I’m having fun figuring it out. Waiting for someone to complain about certain characterization later down the road but…*shrugs*

- Most overdue story?

Complete wise: The Death of a Montague

WIP wise: The Rosvolio soulmate AU. I got a bit ambitious on how the whole soulmate thing works in that AU and I’m working on it not being so info dumpy. 😅

- What are your fic writing goals for next year?

1) Finish the Rosvolio soulmate AU fic

2) Update Akane One-Half faster (Like I legit have two arcs written in first drafts and detailed notes for the two arcs after that. I have no excuse 😂).

3) Write that Plance Vampire/Fledgling-esque AU. I will figure something out, dangit.

4) MAYBE write a long ATLA oneshot based on that Probending AU an artist made for Katara, Toph, and Azula with Suki as their coach. It wouldn’t take me long to find the artist and give credit if I do go this route. Just thought it’d be fun to explore Azula’s character based on what Aaron Ehaz had in mind.

5) (super tentative) Write that oneshot idea I had for Dororo. I miss my babies. 😭

Welp, that was fun! Saw @rueitae ’s post and wanted to give it a shot if I published four things and updated one this year. 👍 Hope you guys have fun with this is you decide to do it!

[faveficarchive]

Creative License

By Ella Quince

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: PG-13

Synopsis: A very different take on the Warlord AU.

"Bring in the prisoner," growled the warlord.

Then, while waiting for her orders to be carried out, she paced impatiently in the tight confines of her field tent, stopping only when she heard the approaching sounds of muffled cursing and scuffling boots. By the time the guards had dragged a very noisy young woman into the tent and thrown her to the ground, the warlord had schooled her angular face into an impassive mask. Her body, however, was rigid with tension, adding an aura of menace to her already considerable height. Even her mane of hair, brushed into an ebony wave down her back, seemed to bristle with fury.

After a single glance upward, the prisoner's protests strangled into silence.

With slow deliberation, the warlord took note of the young woman's appearance: plump figure, worn skirt and faded blouse, a homely face framed by long, mousy blonde hair. She looked tired, and a little dusty, but otherwise hadn't suffered any harm at the hands of her captors.

The warlord dismissed the guards with a brusque gesture, her gaze still locked on her newly-won prize. Reaching down, she easily pulled the prisoner up onto her feet. Her calloused hand lingered on the young woman's wrist, then finally dropped away.

"So..." drawled the warlord, taking a polite step back from her captive, "you're Gabrielle, the bard from Potidea."

"Y-yes, that's me," said Gabrielle with a proud lift of her head. Unfortunately, her attempt at bravado was compromised by the slight trembling of her chin.

"I'm Xena... Warrior Princess. I think you've heard of me." The warlord's smile didn't reach the ice-blue of her eyes.

The prisoner nodded reluctantly, then flushed a deep, deep pink. "I...I...can explain."

"I don't want an explanation — I want you to stop."

"Stop? I can't stop! I'm a bard and those stories — "

"Those stories are making it very hard for me to do my job," said Xena, her mouth set in a grim line. "In fact, you're the worst threat I've ever faced."

"Me?" squeaked Gabrielle. She cleared her throat and continued at a more normal pitch. "But I'm... I'm just a wandering bard... you're a mighty—"

"Stop that!" roared Xena. "That's exactly what I'm talking about!" With a weary groan, she dropped down onto her camp bed. "All that 'mighty warrior' stuff — people are starting to take it seriously, for Hera's sake. At least once a month I get a challenge to my 'reputation.' Sometimes, if I'm lucky, that reputation works to my advantage — I've practiced that steely-eyed gaze you describe and it's scared a few combatants away before they even drew their blades."

"Really?" said Gabrielle, breaking into a delighted grin. Animation transformed her plain features into something approaching beauty. "That's great! I've always loved that look of—"

"BUT," cut in the warlord, "most of the time I have to fight them off."

"But you win!"

"Oh, yeah," said Xena with a harsh laugh. "There's nothing like having a few archers in the trees to keep the odds in my favor."

Gabrielle sank down onto a low bench across from the warlord. "You had them... shot?"

"Yes, little bard, I did. In the back, usually, so they wouldn't see the bolt coming."

"But how could you? That's not a fair fight!"

"If it was a fair fight," spat out Xena, "I'd be dead by now, because — your stories to the contrary — I'm not the best warrior in Greece. I'm not the best warrior in this gods-forsaken province. By Hades, I'm not even the best warrior among my own men."

A puzzled look crossed the young woman's face. "Then why do they follow you?"

Xena shrugged. "I'm a good administrator." She colored slightly at Gabrielle's incredulous look. "I can read — which most of them can't — and I'm very organized. I insist on a clean camp, with a decent cook, and I pay them on time. What most warlords don't understand about their armies is that soldiers get tired of life on the road, and little details, like having a comfortable place to take a crap, can forge more loyalty than epic conquests."

"Quality of life issues..." muttered Gabrielle pensively, then shook her head. "Nope, nope, I can't work with that. There's no drama in being a good administrator."

"Speaking of drama," said Xena in a peevish tone. "Every year you make my past bloodier and bloodier. That story about me impaling all those Amazons..." She shuddered. "Gave me the creeps. It's a damn good thing there aren't any Amazons near here or they'd have tracked me down and killed me for that massacre. And Hope and that Dahok demon gave me nightmares for weeks."

"Sorry about that," said Gabrielle contritely. "It's just that audiences expect so much from me now, and it was getting a little boring telling the same old tale about us traveling around Greece saving villagers from petty warlords."

"Is that why you had me drag you behind my horse?" demanded Xena. "Because you thought it was exciting? If I'd really done something like that — and you'd lived, which is highly unlikely — you should have run away from me! Fast! Instead you're still hanging around, business as usual." She shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense at all, dramatic or otherwise."

"I was getting to it!" said Gabrielle hotly. "I drafted this really wrenching reconciliation story, where we worked out all our problems..."

"And?"

"Well, it was too touchy-feely for the tavern crowds, so I shelved it for the next festival, and then never got back to it because I was working on another travel arc."

"To India?" asked Xena.

"Hey, you really do keep up! That's my newest material."

"I've never been to India," said Xena, a trifle wistfully. "Or Chin..."

She drew herself up, assuming a commanding air that was completely at odds with her next words. "In fact, I haven't done any of the things you claim I've done. So, bard, I can't help but wonder — why me?"

Gabrielle remained silent, her expression suddenly blank and unreadable. She really was plain looking, thought Xena, when she wasn't smiling. "Hey, come on, Gabrielle. You owe me."

"All right, all right." The young woman's voice was low, but melodious, as she explained. "A few years ago you rode into Potidea to barter for supplies for your men and...." she took a deep breath, "and you were the most amazing woman I'd ever seen. I wanted to follow you and learn to be a warrior just like you." Her face took on a pinched look. "Only I was too scared. I stayed in Potidea, dreaming, always just dreaming, about the life I could've had if I'd been brave enough to try. After awhile I began to tell other people my fantasies about that life — and they loved them. Sooo... I just kept elaborating on Xena and Gabrielle's adventures together. Travelers assumed I was a bard, talking about my real experiences with the Warrior Princess, and the tips got better and better. The next thing I knew, I could afford to leave Potidea and make a decent living traveling from town to town... and I owe it all you," she finished in a whisper.

"That's...uh...." Xena cleared her throat, "that's very flattering... but I'm not like your warrior princess. I'm not the least bit... dramatic."

Gabrielle smiled, and Xena observed once again that surprising transformation of the bard's features from plain to beautiful. "Actually, I'm not that disappointed. The Xena I've created for my stories would probably be a little too intimidating, unless I was as fearless as the Gabrielle of my stories... which I'm not. In fact, you're a much nicer warlord than I expected."

"That's probably because I'm not a very successful warlord," sighed Xena. "I get by, but not much more than that. And now, because of all those tales of yours, towns are starting to expect my army to help them with problems rather than conquer them."

"Oh, but that's wonderful!"

"Mostly they need a hand with road construction or plumbing; sometimes we save a harvest from the ravages of an early frost."

Gabrielle looked a little crestfallen. "Those quality of life issues again. What is it with people? Everyone insists on being so... mundane. That's why I take a little creative license with my plotlines."

The warlord scowled darkly. "Like implying I've bedded half the warriors in Greece? As if. Just for the record, the ones who aren't sleeping with other men would rather bed a tavern wench who wears homespun linen instead of leather. All this," she waved a hand at her leather and armor, "is equipment. If soldiers thought it was sexy they'd be too distracted to survive their first battle."

"Interesting point. That never occurred to me. I just figured, since you're so beautiful—"

"Which reminds me," said Xena gruffly. "That's another one of those rumors that's making my life difficult. Everyone thinks we're a couple, so they get indignant if I'm too friendly with the locals."

"I didn't start that rumor," said Gabrielle hastily. "It was other bards who just sort of... assumed... and then they took my material and added these... twists to the narrative." She blushed and muttered, "Very inventive really... if you go in for that sort of thing." She peered up from beneath her bangs with a shy look of curiosity. "Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Go in for...that kind of thing?"

The warlord swallowed hard, then said, "I move around a lot. Makes it kind of difficult to keep a relationship going."

"You haven't answered my question."

"In case you've forgotten," snapped Xena, "I'm the warlord and this is my interrogation. So stop changing the subject — which is you and your infernal stories!"

The bard cringed, her shoulders hunching as if to deflect a blow, but she relaxed a little when she realized that Xena's fuming wasn't going to erupt into violence. "Funny, I never expected you to take much notice of me... or my stories... but if you did, I always hoped that you'd be... pleased." Her voice seemed to choke up for a moment. "Anyway, I'm really sorry I've caused you so much trouble, and I promise to stop now."

Oddly enough, Gabrielle's concession didn't appear to please the warlord.

"But how will you make money?"

"I'll work with some of my other characters, maybe Meg and Joxer."

"You'll starve," predicted Xena dourly.

"Okay, so they're not too popular, but I'll get by. After all, I can't continue with my Xena chronicles now that I know they're hurting you."

"Oh, it's not so bad as all that," said Xena uncomfortably. "Besides, even if you stop, all the other bards will keep on going. The damage has already been done, so I've given up expecting my life to return to normal."

"Then why did you have me abducted?"

Xena shrugged, her glance sliding away to study a shadowed corner of the tent. "Curiosity, I guess. Since we spent so much time together in your stories, I started to wonder what you were really like."

"Oh.... Well, as you can see for yourself, I took a little creative license with Gabrielle, too. I'm not brave and resourceful... or beautiful."

The warlord's gaze stole back to the young woman's face. "I'm not disappointed," said Xena softly. "You have the nicest smile I've ever seen.... and it takes courage to stand up to a warlord, even a battered old has-been like me."

"Is that how you see yourself?" asked Gabrielle, her brows drawing together in consternation. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you're still the most amazing woman I've ever met."

"You need to get around more," said Xena dryly.

The bard just smirked. "I get around plenty, thank you very much... enough to know what I want."

When Gabrielle leaned forward, an emotion resembling panic appeared in the warlord's eyes, but she held her ground. When their lips touched, Xena closed her eyes entirely. And when the kiss deepened, a low moan signaled her surrender to the bard.

"Ouch!" muttered Gabrielle, suddenly breaking away from their embrace. "That armor stuff is sharp."

"Sorry." Xena appeared quite flustered, although whether from the kiss or its abrupt interruption was unclear. "It's been a while since I've done this."

"We'd be more comfortable if you took off the metal parts," said Gabrielle firmly.

"Yes, yes, I suppose we would." But the warlord didn't move. In fact, she barely seemed able to breathe.

"Here," said the bard, her fingers gently tugging at a buckle. "Let me help."

With a mute nod, the warlord allowed herself to be disarmed. The bard fumbled a bit with the unfamiliar fastenings, but both of them were too distracted to notice. And by the time Gabrielle had slipped off Xena's breastplate, arm guards and bracers, they'd built up enough momentum to keep right on going.

"The warrior princess is a little better endowed than I am," confessed Xena, aware that the leathers she was pulling off had hidden her flat chest and bony build.

"That's okay," said Gabrielle, stripping her blouse up over her head. "I have enough wealth for the two of us."

"And so you do," whispered the warlord in awestruck appreciation of the bard's generous figure. The renowned washboard abs were nowhere to be seen, but Xena didn't mourn their absence. When she laid Gabrielle down on the cot and covered the bard's body with her own, Xena felt as if she was sinking into two feather pillows, and it was the most exquisite sensation she'd experienced in years.

Gabrielle's arms circled Xena's neck, drawing her close for yet another burning kiss. When the bard finally let go, they were both rather breathless. "I've always wanted to be ravished by a warlord."

"I could have sworn," murmured Xena, as insistent hands worked their way down her back, "that I was the one being ravished."

"Ravished by a bard...." Gabrielle shook her head. "Nope, no dramatic potential there."

"Speak for yourself," said Xena with an appreciative moan as those sure hands reached their goal.

They didn't bother with coherent conversation beyond that point. So it wasn't until much later, after they had collapsed into a companionable tangle of limbs, that Gabrielle said, "I've been thinking about our problem."

"What problem is that?" asked Xena, nuzzling the bard's hair. By candlelight, it had the reddish highlights she'd always imagined to be Gabrielle's color.

"The problem of all those combat challenges and the need for you to keep a lower profile."

"I can take them on," muttered the warlord, before breaking into a wide yawn. "Kill 'em all."

"Down, tiger," said the bard with an indulgent chuckle. "You don't need to prove anything to me. No, I think the time has come for the Warrior Princess to retire. It would feel... weird making up new stories about Xena. You're too real for me to use as inspiration anymore."

"So what's your plan?" Xena's voice was slurred with drowsiness.

"A spectacular, gore-strewn farewell for the Warrior Princess. Lots of fighting and dismemberment. I can even off a few Amazons for good measure. Maybe work in a crucifixion. Yeah, that would be an awesome way for her to die."

Xena grimaced, encroaching slumber pushed back by her queasy contemplation of the bard's scenario. "You have the most morbid imagination."

"Oh, no — this is going to be an epic love story. I'll kill myself off, too. Trust me, this can work."

"And then what?"

"I suppose I'll create another hero, a woman who does something different. Like fighting bacchae instead of warlords. Yes, that's the ticket! I bet I could dine out for weeks on the opening story alone."

"Yeah... yeah, I suppose you could...." Xena propped herself up on one elbow and studied the bard lying beside her. For two such very different-looking women, they fit together remarkably well on the narrow cot. "You know," she said, with a rather poor attempt at nonchalance, "now that my army isn't doing very much looting and pillaging, the men get kind of bored at night. It would raise morale if I hired a bard to entertain them."

"Really?" Unlike the warlord, Gabrielle managed a quite convincing casual tone, but then she'd had a lot of practice on stage. "Just how long could you use the services of this bard?"

"Well..." The warlord's voice was strained with apprehension, but she stalwartly marched forward. "Morale is very important to a good administrator. I think we'd always need a first-class bard around... one like you."

"Why, Xena, I thought you'd never ask."

Despite Gabrielle's teasing tone, Xena had to wipe a few tears off the bard's cheeks. With a contented sigh, the warlord said, "I was a little worried you'd say no. You don't seem to like happy endings."

"I try to avoid being predictable, but sometimes a cliche is just what a story needs."

"Like happily ever after?" ventured Xena.

"Yeah," said the bard. "Like happily ever after."

And her smile stole Xena's breath away.

[caribouwritings]

The Last Known Flower

{First Draft}

           “We got to hide.”

           “Where?”

           “Anywhere, let’s try this place.”

           Pushing the steel door open, it felt as though Dante and Kevin were transported back a couple centuries back. So use to the dark mechanical world the Earth had become, seeing the wooden interior lit with warm lights wasn’t the most daunting sight inside the cozy building:  it was the books.

           Dante felt as though he and Kevin stuck out among the rows of shelves filled to the brim with colorful spines both hard and soft. After all, they were two thugs in dark clothes and military vest, covered in bulging pockets that either had weapons or stolen goods in each. Dante may have been smaller than Kevin who managed to swipe food on every mission, but his Latino looks packaged with his pearly white smile made him a whole different kind of threat.

He walked in deeper, his steel toe boots muffled in the neutral carpet shades.

           Kevin popped his collar up, following Dante. His steel gaze was unfazed, unlike Dante’s bewilderment as they walked through the aisles of books. Kevin bit into the donut he snatched, getting crumbs caught in his red mustache and the vacuumed floors.

           “What do you think this place is?” Dante wondered aloud.

           Kevin shrugged making an inaudible noise.

           Dante ran his bare fingertips over a column of books of the same name, “it’s kind of cool.”

           “That’s good for you then, lad.” Kevin brushed past him, “we can hide out here until those drone scouts go back to their stations.”

           Kevin sat down on bench in the corner, taking out his knife from his boot and began polishing the clean blade. Dante turned back to the rainbow of spines, then began walking the lengths loss in the vintage beauty.

           “Don’t get lost, lad,” Kevin called with a mouthful.

           “Yeah, yeah,” Dante replied dismissively.

           Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement at a wooden counter.

           He turned quick, seeing it was a checkout counter with a sign behind it that read Pages Bookstore. At that counter was a single robo-cashier, inventorying books by scanning each barcode on the back and stacking them into different piles. Hesitantly, he approached despite knowing how high the chances were this bot had a camera feeding data back to the cops.

           “Uh, hi,” Dante said, “this place is open, right?”

           The robot lifted its dark monitor for a face, “hello. Pages Bookstore is open 24/7 for all your book related needs.”

           It was a preprogramed answer inside its processor, and that was relief to Dante since that meant this was an older model. This also meant that there was no way the cops were getting any live data. By the time they came in to download its CPU, it would be too late to catch him.

           “Cool.” Dante stepped away, moving on to look around.

           He walked deeper into the sea of books, admiring the paintings on the wall. He paused, picking up a book that caught his eye. After a second of reading the back, he opened it up, and stood there reading the first chapter.

           Then, he heard it.

           A hum.

           He lifted his head, and saw something that wasn’t a robot passing by.

           Dante shut the book, peaking around the corner at something he never seen in person before. It was partially untrue, he’s seen women before, but this one was not dressed in the cyberpunk style with spikey heels and almost no clothes on.

As he bit down on his cheek, Dante began following the delicate beauty with a high ponytail the color of sand. He pulled on his collar as she turned into a little nook, feeling as though the fabric was restricting his airway.

Dante kept moving forward, trying to get a look at her face that was turned away from him. He stood at the corner of the shelf, knocking his knuckles on the hard cover of his book. He glanced back, seeing this girl sitting on the floor with her poodle skirt around her like a perimeter.

Dante turned to walk away in retreat, cursing himself for being scared of a pretty face despite his life.

“Murder mystery or young adult rom-com?”

Dante paused, “huh?”

“What?”

He turned back, and she was now looking up at him with the most intense ocean blue eyes he had ever seen.

“I… I was actually talking to myself. I didn’t actually see you standing there,” she held out her hand, “hi.”

Dante took her hand in his, “hi.”

“Hello,” she rambled on, “how are you? How’s it… how’s it going?”

Dante smiled, “I’m good. It’s a good night for me. What about you?”

“I’m good, I’m real good. I’m just really, really awkward.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m just lying to be nice.”

“That’s actually so nice of you, thank you for lying.”

“No problem.”

“Come here often?”

“No, I didn’t know this place existed until five minutes ago.”

“Then where do you get your books?”

“I don’t really read.”

“But that’s book three!”

Dante looked down at his book still in his hand, “I just saw the cover and thought it looked decent.”

She got up, “you got to read it from the beginning!”

“Do I?” Dante asked.

“Yes!” she hurried off to the section he picked the book up from.

Dante walked over to where she was once sitting, looking at the two books she was deciding between. Reading over the back, he could already tell the murder mystery was going to be horrible.

“Here.” She skidded to a halt in her beat up sneakers.

Dante took two more books from her, “I thought you were getting me book one.”

“And two,” she pointed at the cover, “this one is my favorite in the series.”

“So, I should read these three books?” Dante asked.

“And the other four,” she rocked on her heels, “then maybe the two other books if you really like it, but they’re not as good as the originals.”

“Got it.” Dante handed her the rom-com, “the murder mystery has a weird synopsis that just doesn’t sound easy to follow.”

“Thank you for your help,” she smiled, “and I hope to see you around… mister…?”

“Dante, and you senorita?”

She brushed her hair behind her ear smiling, “it’s Dahlia.”

Dante took her hand and kissed her knuckles, “until we meet again, Dahlia.”

Dahlia hugged her book to her chest, walking away with a smile on her burning red face.

Dante leaned back against the shelf, and watched her walk all the way to the counter and purchase her book, and then leave back into the cold city.

After a moment of patting himself on the back, he walked back to where he left Kevin, unsurprised to find that he didn’t move.

“Where’d you go?” Kevin picked at his fingernails.

“Looked around for a bit. I found a couple of books to read.”

Kevin looked up, “books? When are you going to have time to read a book? We are in a f*cking gang.”

“Keep your voice down,” Dante warned, “this place is huge and we don’t know who else is here.”

“There’s no one here,” Kevin twirled his knife.

“A girl was here,” Dante took a card out of his wallet, “she’s the one who recommended these to me.”

“A girl was here?” Kevin jumped up, “why didn’t you come get me?”

“Because it was lady-type of girl,” Dante went to checkout counter, “not the type we run around with.”

Kevin shoved his knife back into his boot, “you’re seriously paying for those? Why not just walk out the door with them? You know, like we always do, lad?”

“I feel like I have to,” Dante handed the card to the bot.

***

           Sitting in the hovercar, Dante chewed on the inside of his cheek while Kevin gobbled down a third hamburger spilling its condiments into its wrapper.

           “Don’t get that crap on my leather seats,” Dante grumbled.

           Kevin turned to Dante, and took a big bite causing ketchup to spill out.

           “I really do hate you sometimes,” Dante leaned against the driver’s door. “Where the heck are these guys?”

           “It’s a bank robbery,” Kevin licked his fingers, “it’s like an art, meaning they take time.”

Dante reached into his glovebox, and took out a book.

Kevin rolled his eyes, “seriously?”

“Just keep an eye out,” Dante flipped to the first page.

“Whatever you say,” Kevin shrugged, “just remember your job is to drive.”

“Bite me.”

Dante read for maybe five minutes, then there was a knock on his window. Dante didn’t look up, and instead moved on to the next page.

“Dante, lower the window for the pretty woman,” Kevin punched his arm.

Dante hit the button, not moving his eyes from the page.

“Hey there, handsome,” her voice was hoarse, and she smelled of smoke. It use to not bother him, but for some reason he felt sick now. She touched his shoulder with a wrinkled hand covered in cheap jewelry, “nice car. Maybe you and I can go for a spin sometime?”

Kevin nudged him roughly, whispering harshly, “Put the book down and say something.”

Dante sighed, then looked up at the woman with a heavily colored face wrapped with a messy, hot pink wig. He studied her metallic shorts with fishnets underneath that had long tears, red stilettos with the sharp heals, and the black bra being used as a top.

“Lo siento, no Inglés.”

The woman’s face went cold, stalking off, “jacka**.”

Kevin punched his arm, “dude!”

“¿Qué?” Dante couldn’t help but smile.

“You could’ve just let me have her!” Kevin yelled.

Dante chuckled, picking up his book again, “trabajo primero.”

“Quit speaking Spanish!”

“Are they coming?”

“No.”

“Keep watch.”

“I am watching!”

“Shh, I’m reading.”

Kevin stuck his middle finger up in Dante’s face.

Dante started reading again, smiling at the words projecting images in his mind. Although, his thoughts keep going back to wondering when he’d go back to Pages Bookstore and hopefully run into Dahlia again.

Kevin hit Dante’s arm, “start the car.”

Dante hit the button, then shut his book.

Two big guys in all black wearing chrome masks jumped into the backseats with nothing in their hands. As soon as the doors shut, Dante hit the pedal and they went down into the lower levels of the city and starting go into the retirement area down in suburban grounds.

Clicking a button on the stirring wheel, the black hue of his sport vehicle switched to a red muscle style as they flew up to a curb.

Dante parked, then he and Kevin turned to the two in the back, “you get the goods?”

One guy nodded, and pulled a green chip out of his pocket, “one million credits.”

“Now we bring this back to the boss,” the other said, “Let’s go.”

Dante went to drive off, but he couldn’t help but notice that the workers in the retirement home were wearing clothes in the style as Dahlia’s.

***

Later that night, Dante returned to the retirement home and parked at the curb. With the vehicle’s hull changed to navy blue, and his hair slick back.

He now just had to wait and see.

Looking through the rearview mirror, he watched wondered if he was overreacting.

He pulled the book out of his glovebox again, turning the music onto a techno station, and trying to focus on the pages before ultimately throwing the book at the windshield.

Dante got out of his vehicle, and began pacing the length of the driver’s side. He couldn’t understand why this girl had such a hold on him despite only meeting her the night before for a few minutes, in which she could barely speak.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Dante turned to the cement sidewalk, and there she was.

“Dahlia, hi!”

She jumped back, “oh! I didn’t recognize you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dante leaned on the top, “I drove by earlier, and noticed some of the staff wearing… that.”

Dahlia looked down at her tea length swing dress and cardigan, “I thought… I thought it was cute…”

“It is cute!” Dante blurted out, “you truly do look cute and… do you want to go grab a bite?”

Dahlia looked around, “no offense, but… why?”

“Because I want to get to know you,” Dante shrugged, “and I started the first book while I was at work?”

“You get to read at work?”

“Sometimes.”

“Lucky, I have to keep an eye on all these dementia people who think they’re in the era of swing dancing and poodle skirts.”

“That explains the outfit then,” Dante walked to the other side, “if you don’t want to go get something to eat, can I give you a ride home?”

Dahlia thought for a moment, then shrugged, “I guess I am a little bit hungry.”

Dante opened the car door upwards, “after you.”

Dahlia slowly ducked down, pulling her skirt close to her as she sat down in the passenger seat. He closed the door, slid over the hood, and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Well, where are we going, senorita?”

***

           Dante flew around the city, clicking his tongue as he pulled up to a neon lit drive-thru window, “you sure you want this?”

           Dahlia nodded, “pretty please? The fries are so good.”

           Dante laughed, “Okay, okay. Pequeña pepita.”

           “Little what?” Dahlia asked.

           “Not saying,” Dante pulled up the window, tapping on the computer screen.

           “Should I take out my translator?” she teased.

           “I’m not telling you what I said.” Then flew forward to the pickup window, tapping his card onto the code reader, “and I don’t want you looking up. I want you tell me what I said when you figure it out.”

           “You know, you’re kind of a pain,” Dahlia poked his muscle.

           “Actually, I prefer to think of myself as inconveniently obnoxious to a fault.” Dante took the bag and drinks from the robo-cashier, “if my looks go, I still have my colorful personality.”

           “You talking about when you get old, in a retirement home, and think techno is better than the music of the current day?” Dahlia asked in joking manner.

           Dante nodded and lied easily, “and balding with a spare tire on my gut.”

           Dahlia snorted on a laugh.

           Dante reached in the bag and grabbed a chicken nugget, “where to now, pequeña pepita?”

           “What does that mean?” Dahlia asked again.

           “¿Pepita?” Dante flew down the colorful flyways that shimmered off the glass.

           “Yes, what is pepita?” She ate a bite of a chicken nugget.

           “You really want to know?” He glanced at her.

           The rainbow of lights glowed around her as she nodded her head up and down.

           Dante smirked, “you’re eating one.”

           Dahlia stared at him, “I thought chicken was… something like pollo…?”

           “It is,” Dante waited.

           Dahlia blinked, “nugget?”

           Dante tapped his nose, “little nugget.”

           “Oh my gosh,” she laughed, “Is this high school?”

           “What about princesa?” Dante teased, “¿cara de muñeca?”

           “What is with the cheesy nicknames?” Dahlia asked through her fit of giggles.

           “I like giving people that I like nicknames,” Dante shrugged, “don’t you?”

           “They’re alright,” Dahlia said, “but I like your name, Dante.”

           Dante smiled, “Dahlia, you are a kind, sweet, pequeña pepita.”

           Dahlia smiled and passed him a nugget, “gracias.”

           He stole a glance at her as he took the nugget, “de nada.”

***

           After an hour of flying around, Dante pulled up to the curb of her apartment complex and let the thrusters idle.

           “I had fun,” she spoke first.

           “I did too,” Dante replied, “I’m glad you agreed to this…”

           “Date?” Dahlia suggested.

           “This date,” he agreed. “Thank you for going on this date with me.”

           “Thank you for asking,” Dahlia opened the door, “and I’ll be at the bookstore tomorrow if you’re interested in seeing me again.”

           Dante smiled, “I may be there.”

           Dante went to turn off his brake when he noticed the song wasn’t techno, and his station was changed, “did you change m-“

           Dahlia pressed her lips on his cheek quick, then ducked out just as fast as the kiss she gave him. Dante turned to the passenger window, and watched her press her thumb to the keypad and run inside smiling. The corners of lips began to tug upward and he felt his cheeks start to burn at the sensation, but couldn’t help but laugh a little at the circumstances.

Dante turned off the brake and dropped straight down, not entirely sure if the feeling in his stomach was butterflies or due to the rapid drop. Now flying back to the compound, he tapped the computer screen, saving the clean unaltered music station to his primary settings.

When he pulled into the block of maroon painted buildings down deep in the depths of the city, he began noticing difference he was once blind to. There was a darkness to criminal underworld, and a lack of unique people walking around to avoid standing out.

           Dante sighed and turned into the scrapyard. He parked, and pulled his visor-phone out of his chest pocket, and the book from his glovebox. He put the visor on his head like they were sunglasses, and slid out of the driver’s seat.

           Like always, he kept his head down to avoid looking at the exoskeletons hanging from the support poles. As he walked underneath, he noticed there was a fresh puddle of red with the dry stains. He wondered who got—as the boss put it—reprogrammed, but he dared not look up to see the fresh meat.

           “Lad!” He felt Kevin wrap an arm around his shoulder, “where’ve you been? Find any babes?”

           “No babes,” Dante replied tiredly.

           “You sick, lad?” Kevin redirected Dante’s path.

           “I went out for a bite,” Dante tried to turn back his other path.

           “Hope it was good, the boss has a job,” Kevin shoved him in the elevator, “and he is not happy he had to wait this long.”

           “Why didn’t you call me?” Dante asked.

           “Reasons.”

           A chill ran up his spine, and he knew there was no job.

           Dante went to run out of the elevator, only to feel a sharp pain slice through his body armor underneath his military vest. Dante stumbled to the side against the elevator’s wall, slipping down to the chrome floors as the doors sealed his fate.

           “I hate to say it, but you changed,” Kevin wiped his blade on his pant leg, “in a rapid amount of time too, and it got me worried. I had to express my concerns to the boss, you understand? If the getaway driver goes soft, then who’s to say he won’t drive the criminals to the coppers? The boss doesn’t want to lose business, so we’re letting you go, amigo.”

           Dante coughed, “you’re not my amigo.”

           Kevin knelt down, “but I am. You see, I had been following you around since the retirement center, you just didn’t notice because you were looking at someone else.”

           Dante lifted his head, “don’t talk about her.”

           “Your girl is safe,” Kevin placed his knife to Dante’s neck, “and I’ll tell her how you asked me to take care of her.”

           Without even thinking, Dante kicked Kevin’s ankle, and shoved him back. With the wind knocked out of him, it gave time for Dante to grab the knife and hide his glasses in his thigh pocket of his cargo pants. Kevin went to kick back, but Dante raised his leg and shoved his steel boot right into Kevin’s pale face, crushing his nose, then kicking again and burying his mustache into his skull.

           Dante hit the emergency stop button, looking around the small area for a way out. He noticed the blood seeping through a crack in the floor, and used the knife to pry it open. Looking down the red lit bay, and seeing nothing to grab, he weighed the possibility he’d break a bone better than losing his life.

           As he went down the shaft feet first, he knew the place would be loaded with other thugs and goons looking for him. He reached his hands out, and fingers slammed down on the ledge of one of the stops, making a painful crack and pop in several of his digits. He bit down on cheek, trying to distract himself from the pain he was feeling everywhere else.

           He pulled himself up, and used the knife to pry the door open just enough to peep through and see the coast was clear, for the moment.

           He pushed them open enough to slip through, and then ran into the corridor holding his side. Dante moved to a supply closet, and ducked inside. Flipping the switch, he was now under bright florescent lights that burned his eyes, with his only company being the cleaning supplies.

           Sinking to the floor, Dante opened his vest and moved the Kevlar made armor aside to access the damage taken to his abdomen:  The cut was deep.

           Dante grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the bottle shelf, and poured some on the wound—wincing at the sting—and dug around for some sort of emergency kit that was stored throughout the compound. He found the metal case on the second shelf, and dug inside for a patch and settled for the gauze, tying it around his abdomen knowing it wouldn’t be enough to stop him from bleeding out.

           Dante got up, and was struck by an idea.

           He took his visor from his pocket, and as he grabbed every flammable bottle he could, he dialed the police.

***

           Sneaking around and pouring every bottle of cleaner, bleach, and gasoline on every floor and stairway he went through as he hobbled his way back down to the ground level. His goal was to get to his vehicle, and drive away before the cops tracked his call back to the glasses he put into his chest pocket again.

           He kept his hood up and head low as he walked along the side of the building with his last can of gasoline dripping on the ground. It seemed unrealistic, but he had no other idea how to get his past mistakes to stay in the past other than to blow them up.

           Dante could see his car, just beyond the hanging exoskeletons and groups of members looking for him. As he walked under the display of dead henchmen, he wondered how this place lasted so long if they were able let him slip through so easily. By thinking about it, he realized he made a mistake because he began to notice the men casually moving toward him.

           He paused, wondering what to do now.

           A drop of blood dripped onto his shoulder. It was a fate he didn’t want, and he did not put this much work in to be stuffed into an exoskeleton and rot there in front of everyone. With a sigh, he concluded he wasn’t going to the bookstore the next night, and seeing Dahlia again.

           He dropped the can, and then lit a match.

           He heard the sirens before the boom.

***

           Dante woke up.

           Judging by the bright white lights, he assumed he was dead. The light back and forth in his field of vision, before he could make out the person behind it was a doctor in a surgical mask.

           “What’s your name?” He asked.

           Dante tried to speak, but his chest felt heavy and the sound was the air escaping his throat.

           The doctor clicked the light off, and began using it to write on his holoscreen projecting from his watch. “As of now, you’re John Doe, seeing as you’re so disfigured that not even a face scan or finger scan can identify you. Those new lungs and respirator will take some getting use to as well, please wait here, I will be back with nurse bot to perform a retina scan.”

           Despite what the doctor said, Dante still tried to get up, only to find himself handcuffed to the hospital bed. He painfully sat up enough to see his arm, wrapped in bandages that had blood still blooming from his skin. He could see his fingertips, they were raw and bright red like a boiled lobster.

           Dante felt a noise boil up inside him, starting at his stomach and working its way up into his chest, into his throat and out his mouth in a blood curdling scream, as he thrashed and flailed in the bed.

           He knew he wanted to live, but this was not how he wanted to be alive.

           The doctor returned, shoving a mask over Dante’s screaming mouth and putting him back to sleep.

***

           Ever since Dante woke up again, he was being hounded by doctors, police, and bots.

           They knew who he was, but they couldn’t place how he fit into the explosion. Their technology was smart enough to trace his call, figure out the source of the explosion, and keep him alive, but not smart enough to know what came over him to betray his criminal family.

           That was fine with Dante. If they couldn’t make him talk, he wasn’t telling them it was because he chose to hide out in a bookstore.

           Every day that passed, the more hounding the questions got until they left him alone to stare at the ceiling.

           He was in the middle of counting the specs in those forty-four tiles, when a human aid in all white dropped off his food with a replacement vase of flowers. The flowers came in patterns he noticed, and since last week was tulips, this week would be roses.

Today they were something he never seen before.

           Dante gave the vase a side-eye, “those aren’t roses.”

           “It’s another aid’s birthday this week,” the aid said dismissively as she sat his bed up, “you’re in a chatty mood today, Mr. Perez.”

           “What are those?” He ignored her comment.

           “Dahlias,” the aid answered, “the staff thought it’d be funny since it is her name.”

           Dante turned to the aid, “did she work in a retirement center?”

           The aid stepped back, her actions were his answer. “Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Perez.”

           Dante watched her leave coldly, then turned back to the rainbow of little buds of petals poking out of the rich green leaves. The sight made him smile a little, before the guilt blanketed him and he rolled away, putting his back to the dahlias.

***

           The same aid was back later with the doctor to remove the bandages.

           While the doctor snipped the gauze around his face, Dante looked everywhere else but at the mirror the aid was holding up. He already didn’t like seeing his tan skin bright red with the bandages on, he didn’t want to see what was left now that the rawness faded away.

           He tried staring at the ceiling, but the doctor’s head kept getting in his field of view, same as the aid. He looked to the doorway, seeing bots on their tracks carrying medications and food to other burn victims. They loyally followed an aid in a mixture of modern technological styles, plain colorless scrubs, and flashback styles from eras he never witnessed in his lifetime.

           The bandage went in front of his eyes, and in when he looked again a girl with hair the color of sand was at the bots’ station presetting the program for her robo-companion. The bandage went in his sightline again, as she turned her head.

           “His pulse has elevated,” the aid warned.

           “Nothing to worry about,” the Doctor said stepping back.

           Dante sat up, ignoring the mirror offered to him. He couldn’t see her anymore, and he wasn’t even sure if it was Dahlia, but she was the first person he saw in the hospital wearing a tea dress like that.

           “Mr. Perez,” the doctor interrupted his thoughts. “Would like to take a look?”

           The aid held up the mirror.

           Dante reached out taking the mirror in his shiny misshapen hand. He turned the mirror over, seeing a face that had the same texture as his hand, and details melted down like he was made of wax. The only part of him that stayed was his hazel eyes, but even so they looked vastly different on his new face.

           “In time, the pain will be more bearable and when you get out jail you could get reconstructive surgery,” the Doctor explained, “sooner if you cooperate with the police, maybe.”

           Dante glanced up, she was back hugging a book to her chest.

           “Mr. Perez, do you want to issue a statement to the police?” the Doctor pressed.

           She brushed her hand over her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As soon as he saw that freckled nose and pink pout, he knew it was her.

           “Mr. Perez?” the aid looked at the monitor, “are you feeling alright?”

           Dante curled his wrist back, and tossed the mirror out the door like a Frisbee, cutting her off. She jumped back with a surprised yelp, and a security bot hovered past her into the room.

           “Mr. Perez!” The doctor scolded.

           “What is the situation?” The bot demanded.

           Dahlia picked up the mirror, and walked to the doorway. “Is he alright?”

           “Everything is fine,” the aid shooed Dahlia, “this guy is just disturbed.”

           Dahlia stepped inside, “that is very nice to say. First time seeing your new look… mister?”

           “Dante.”

           She froze, “Dante…?”

           “Do you know him?” the aid asked.

           Dahlia ignored her, and sat down on the edge of the bed, “Dante… is that… is that really you?”

           “I’m so sorry, pequeña pepita,” he said quietly.

           The Doctor squeezed Dahlia’s shoulder, “Miss Collins, do you know this man?”

           Dahlia looked around at the room. She took in where she was and the security measures taken to keep Dante from leaving, all the while pretending he was a normal burn patient. She then turned back to Dante teary eyed, “no.”

           Dante felt his smile he didn’t know he had fall, “but Dahlia… I like you. Please don’t do this to me.”

           The Doctor pulled Dahlia up, “time to go, Mr. Perez needs to be left alone now.”

           “Dahlia, wait.” Dante sat up as much as he could, reaching out as far as his restraints would let him, “please let me explain.”

           The security bot led them out, with Dahlia last to leave.

           She turned back, with her arms hanging at her sides, “pero… yo quiero.”

           “You want to know me?” Dante held his breath.

           Dahlia cracked a small smile, “that’s what I said, isn’t it?” she slowly shut the door, “tell me what you think, it’s my favorite story.”

           Dante looked down at where she once sat, finding the book he picked out the day he met her, right in his reach.

[quarterfromcanon]

Rough Draft

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 14 - Love Letters [2,625 words]

The waking disorientation lasted for a shorter span of minutes with each new day Valencia spent in a bed that was not her own. She got used to the way the early sunlight fell through the window at an odd slant as the rays passed above wall outside; she grew accustomed to the layout of the room in the wan illumination and the cool slide of satin across her hips. 

What did not decrease in novelty was the sight of Heather sleeping beside her.

Valencia’s air kept getting lost somewhere inside her lungs, caught between the inhale and exhale, hitching just long enough to leave a sting before she remembered to release it again. That morning was no exception. Sixty hours in each other’s company, fifty-seven of which were in varying states of undress, and they’d reached the level of comfort where both fell asleep nude the previous night. The curve of Heather’s spine in the warm glow of dawn called to Valencia’s fingers like a persistent itch. Her slow, even breathing made the sheets crumple in a pool around her waist. The tattoo on Heather’s right arm smiled at Valencia with its crooked robot mouth. 

Good morning, Wilbur, she thought. Valencia traced its outline and reflected on the first occasion when she heard the story of her friend’s prominent body art, and just how much had happened since that afternoon on a different bed belonging to Heather. It felt equal parts inexplicable and inevitable, a course of events neither of them predicted but which seemed like the only logical conclusion once they were here.

Yet, despite their increasing intimate knowledge of one another, there was so much Valencia still wanted to say. Half an hour ticked by in which she wrestled with declarations and curiosities, so close to shaking Heather awake to share it all, but uncertainty stilled her hand. 

Valencia climbed off the mattress and searched for clothes. She found Heather’s before her own and allowed herself the indulgence of slipping the loose, comfortable fabric onto her frame. Her fists balled up the camisole under her nose and she inhaled deeply. Cedar, citrus, and sea salt - no one product produced the co-mingling aromas but they all embedded into anything that pressed against Heather’s skin. Valencia wondered if perhaps she was adopting the distinct scent now, too. The thought pleased her more than she chose to admit.

She opened the bedroom door and padded around the corner into the living room. The yoga mat she borrowed from Heather’s car waited beside the couch, left in place on the floor after multiple uses. Valencia went through her sun salutation but the state of undisturbed serenity kept receiving interference from the brush of Heather’s madras shorts against her legs. They were comfortable to move in, but a relentless distraction woven with memories of how they wound up by the closet for her to wear in the first place. 

When her morning routine was complete, Valencia went back to the open doorway. She leaned against the frame and gazed down at Heather for a few minutes, curls in her face and calves overlapped beneath the blanket. The terrible need to divulge the contents of her whirring mind rose once more. Valencia’s mouth opened as if to let some of those emotions escape, but she closed it before any sound from her might disturb Heather’s peaceful slumber.

She shivered and pulled the crochet duster cardigan off Heather’s chair for extra coverage. Her arms folded over her stomach while she contemplated how she might broach the subject of where they stood after the recent developments between the two of them. No introductory premise held much potential. She was sure to get tripped up in the delivery, and the embarrassment of wanting to talk at all burned from the imagined exchange alone. Maybe the reliance on speech was not the best call to begin with, and the written word could prove easier to control. 

Valencia fetched her purse from the corner and rummaged until she found her portable bullet journal and a pen. She curled up in the chair and flipped to a blank page. Just as with her practiced conversation, the question of where to start was the most daunting. There were so many options - a joke, an anecdote, an admission - but the ideal beginning existed somewhere in the middle. She touched pen to paper and tested a few lighthearted sentences in precise, steady-stroke cursive.

You’ve had me crying out this entire weekend (not just in literal tears). I mean sexually you’ve had me crying out. What if the whole neighborhood hears? But as I’m heaving my chest, struggling to catch my breath, there’s something I’ve got to bite my tongue not to confess: I’m so scared. I think I like you. I want to hide I think I like you. It’s reckless, but you make me weak in the knees, and it’s not just your mouth that’s got me begging please...

She gave a disgruntled sigh and tore the draft free. Valencia crumpled the first attempt and tossed it into the trash can beside Heather’s nightstand. A fresh set of empty lines stretched underneath, ready to be filled, but Valencia put off a second trial in favor of leaving a note to herself. Her pen dug into each letter with unnecessary force.

Remember: NO NO NO This is just about sex. NO NO NO Keep this longing in check!

Valencia flipped deeper into the journal and looped her contemplation across unused parchment in a stream-of-consciousness, which she partially edited upon review.

I see you in nothing but that old blouse with the doughnut stain, and just like that, all I’m thinking again is holy crap, I think I like you. Don’t hate me. I think I like you. Why can’t I get lost in bumping and grinding like your face disappears inside my thighs? ’Cause as I’m returning the favor and you’re on your back, I want to see myself through your eyes. Then you curl your finger, beckon me to the brink, and suddenly it’s like way down deep I think I like you. Secretly, I think I like you. Can’t help falling harder every day. You’ve got me knotted up... not in a foreplaying way.

“Whatcha workin’ on, buddy?” Heather inquired.

Valencia jumped so hard that her notebook nearly went airborne. She shut it with a snap and tucked it under the cushion of the chair. “Oh, just finding things to do until you woke up,” she answered in a casual tone that directly contradicted her unusual behavior. 

Heather, much to Valencia’s relief, was too disoriented to detect anything suspicious.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in.” Heather tilted her phone, checked the clock, and rubbed her eyelids. “They don’t even need me at Home Base until ten, but I’d better go ahead and shower, though. What about you? Any plans for today?”

Valencia shrugged. “I’m wide open.”

A mischievous smirk formed at the corner of Heather’s lips. “Good to know.”

Valencia blushed and smiled in return. “Is it okay if I stay here while you’re gone?”

“Sure, of course. Mi casa and all that. You’ve got some of your stuff here to begin with, and anything else that comes up, you can just borrow mine --” Her gaze scanned Valencia’s outfit. “-- which I see you’re already doing. Are those all my clothes?”

Valencia self-consciously rubbed her kneecaps. “Yeah, they are. I got a little cold.”

“Shoulda never left the bed. I could’ve warmed you up.” Heather held out her hand. “C’mere.”

Valencia fell into the embrace and blanketed Heather’s body with her own. She hummed appreciatively and trailed her hands down Heather’s front. “How are you so much toastier than me when I’m in layers and you’re still naked?”

Heather nosed the cardigan aside and scraped one of her cuspids along Valencia’s shoulder. “There’s actually a scientific reason for that, but it’s way too nerdy and un-sexy to explain while you’re playing with my nipples.”

Valencia snorted and cradled Heather close. “I don’t know about that. I think the way your mind works is pretty hot.”

“Dude, careful. I’ve got like a decade’s worth of Gen. Ed. crap up there. You don’t wanna sit through all that.”

“Depends where I’m sitting.” Valencia caught Heather’s lower lip between her teeth and tugged.

Heather groaned. “Your wordplay game has seriously leveled up now that you’re all out-and-proud. I’m gonna have to sharpen my skills.”

She wriggled one hand under the back of Valencia’s waistband while the other inched up the cami. “Did you put on my underwear, too?” she asked just before her touch advanced far enough to reveal there was no sign of them. Valencia shook her head to answer regardless. Heather’s nails scratched with deliberate pressure over the expanse until Valencia shuddered and arched. “You even wear my clothes the same way I do,” Heather remarked. “Commando’s out of the norm for you. I appreciate your commitment to accurate imitation.”

“It’s the sincerest form of flattery.” 

“Mm, and the most helpful.” 

The madras was midway up Heather’s forearm by the time her fingers reached their target. Valencia rolled her hips. She gripped both sides of Heather’s face and kissed her until they both swayed dizzily. They worked together to discard the duster and Heather coaxed Valencia flat against the pillows.

Time unfurled outside of their awareness, the passage of an hour they were both happy to lose, and when Heather finally returned to her side of the bed, the purloined ensemble was scattered around the room where it began. 

“Okay,” Heather panted. “Now, for real, I have to shower.”

Valencia pressed one last kiss to Heather’s arm before she departed for the bathroom. What little oxygen Valencia had to spare left her in a dazed chuckle as she finger-combed her matted hair. She hugged her knees and rested her chin on them. The numbers on the cell phone screen blinked and changed several times before she retrieved the notebook and jotted down a third paragraph, but the fuzzy giddiness of her brain produced admittedly ridiculous results. 

Are there dental dams to block out this keening? Is there a strap-on long enough to thrust some space between my crotch and heart? Take out the batteries before I vibrate into ecstasy fantasizing an apartment, and maybe a pet, and then we get to ride on a Pride float...

Valencia held the journal away from herself with a grimace. “Oh my God!”

I think I like you. Her hand trembled, but she resisted the urge to cross out the truth. What to do? I think I like you.

She turned back to the old page, doodled her lover’s name, and retraced the reminder.

~*~ Heather ~*~

NO NO NO

NO NO NO

NO NO NO

NO NO NO

Valencia grumbled and ripped away the lot. She dropped them into the trash can and restored the journal to her purse.

Her own clothes turned out to be beneath the bed in a pile. Valencia put them on and went to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge. She was scrutinizing the expiry dates on some of Rebecca’s choices when Heather reemerged from the bathroom. 

“I’m making something to eat real quick before I head out. I can add enough for two servings, if you want in on it,” Heather offered. “Let me just dry my hair and then... ah crap. This happens every time.”

“What’s wrong?” Valencia called from where she now sat beside the island.

“Nothing major. I went to unplug my phone and knocked it into the trash. I’ve seriously done that like five times already. I’ve really gotta move this thing.”

The blood drained from Valencia’s face. She dropped off the stool and raced toward the bedroom. Her ribs collided with the door as she skidded to halt. 

Too late.

“There’s a whole stack of paper scraps in here,” Heather said, hands full of tattered sheets. “This is your handwriting, isn’t it?” 

She glanced at the uppermost piece and her eyebrows lifted. Valencia froze. 

“You made my name look really pretty.” Heather held up the rest of the pages. “Was this gonna be for me?”

“Please don’t read any more,” Valencia pleaded.

“Okay.” Heather gently restored the discarded musings to their place. “That’s the only thing I really saw, so, whatever you don’t want me to know is safe.”

She plugged in her hairdryer and sat on the bed. Valencia could feel the shift in the air between them. While Heather guided the gusts of heat in systematic lines from scalp to end, Valencia perched at the foot of the mattress. She clasped her hands atop her legs and fought off the tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Heather glanced her way for a fraction of a second when she paused to press the snowflake button in the middle of the dryer, but her stare was inscrutable and she said nothing. Valencia’s throat ached and her fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and hold Heather’s hand in her own.

Heather slid the plastic bar to ‘off,’ unplugged, and rolled up the cord. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes,” Valencia permitted in a quavering voice. “Anything.”

“The secret... which, by the way, suckiest hiding place ever... is it a good thing or a bad thing?” Heather busied herself with reluctantly putting on a bra and briefs to go beneath her work outfit.

“Good. I think. I hope.” Valencia hugged herself and crossed her ankles. “I just don’t know if it’s something you want to hear.”

The tension left Heather’s body as if she’d been holding her breath. “All right. Well, I respect your privacy so, I mean, I’m not gonna pry. Just know you can always talk to me, if you want to.” She buttoned up a blouse and stepped into a pair of slacks. “I won’t judge you or anything. Scout’s honor although, to be fair, that doesn’t count for as much as it could because I only went to like two meetings during cookie season.”

Valencia laughed, and a relieved smile brightened Heather’s face. She leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across Valencia’s cheek. Their eyes met when Heather pulled away. The revelation flew from Valencia’s mouth before she could stop it.

“I like you.”

“Good. It’d put a different spin on the last few days if you told me we were hatefucking this whole time.”

Heather gave Valencia’s shoulder a little shove and then walked out of the room. Valencia followed so quickly that it startled Heather when she turned around and found her standing there. 

“I don’t think you understand.” Valencia’s features were gravely serious. “I like you.”

“I like you, too. Do you want pancakes?”

“No, I mean I like like you,” Valencia clarified with wide eyes.

“As opposed to unlike liking me?” Heather prepped the skillet and set the temperature for the burner.

“Heathe...” Valencia’s expression was a unique blend of reprimanding scowl and petulant frown as she popped onto her earlier seat. 

Heather laughed but, upon seeing Valencia’s continued genuine distress, she relented. “I get it, V. Don’t worry. I just like teasing you. Y’know, to be flirty.”

“Would it be so hard to make this easy on me?” 

Heather pulled Valencia nearer, counter stool and all. She cupped Valencia’s face in her hands and kissed her. “Like that?” she joked. Heather leaned in until their noses and foreheads touched. “Was that easier?”

Valencia tried to look sullen but the facade wouldn’t stay in place. She locked her legs against Heather’s back pockets, draped both arms around her neck, and found Heather’s lips again with hers. “It’s not a bad start.”

[hyacinthetic]

end of the year writing meme 2k17

because i did this last year and i want to gloat over my truly embarrassing uptick in wordcount.

Total number of completed stories: 8 + 1 wip + 1 snippet.  Total word count: 151,100, MOTHERFUCKER. Fandoms: voltron, persona 5, natsume’s book of friends.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? TOO MUCH VOLTRON. WAY, WAY TOO MUCH VOLTRON.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? i have 40k of lotor/matt sitting on my hard drive. it's going to break 60k after edits. i don't want this life.

What's your own favorite of the year? the post-series winter cult au was my favorite bit of writing, but i am gonna clutch the pseudo-utena pastiche (disclaimer: not actually related to utena in any way) to my chest all the more because nobody else will. 36K WORDS, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Did you take any writing risks this year? mmm. i've used the second-person pov before to varying degrees of efficacy, but the junior detective kurusu akira fic and the every day au were the first times i really tried to use it as a proper conceit -- a choice that related to the way the character wanted the story framed. ymmv on how well they worked (ha! ha! most of the second-person punch in the junior detective fic happens in the ~20k after the prologue, oh god, nobody even knows what i'm talking about). at the v. least, i still think the every day au's ending wouldn't pack such a punch from any other perspective.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? WRITE STUFF THAT ISN'T VOLTRON, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. i've been reduced to just clawing at doors hissing LET ME GO... LET MY PEOPLE GO ...

From my past year of writing, what was...

My best story of this year: definitely the post-series winter cult. people keep describing it as hard to get into, which, yeah, it is. but it's also the most polished piece from this year.

in general, my best fic is always still the dazai/yosano thing from 2016. i didn't even round out all the subplots for that one, but because it's a crack ship, the whole dynamic is something i made, and i think that earns it a place on the trophy shelf.

My most popular story of this year: the shrine guardian au, i guess? which is bewildering, frankly: it's very fluffy, but i don't see that it does anything better than my other works. not to be all lucille bluth, i love all my children equally!!! and its prose is fine, but i wouldn't call it a standout piece.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: it is a tie between my two big voltron aus -- i understand why the pseudo-utena flopped as hard as it did (60k worth of fic crammed into 36k, badly edited, had to cut two subplots and it still turned out a mess), but the darkest timeline auniverse fic was decent work with mediocre prose and a fuckton of worldbuilding. i'm this close to digging up a worldbuilding meme and answering all the questions that literally nobody will ever ask. THERE WAS SO MUCH TIMELINE BUILDING IN THAT ONE.

Most fun story to write: fun & joy are lies. all fic is suffering. only the motor fic came close, and that was awful in a different way: two characters with little established personality having to build chemistry and worldbuilding at the same time. fuck you both.

Story with the single sexiest moment: hilariously, despite the amount of porn i like to write, none of my fic's been personally sexy to me since 2013's mikorei pwp in which mikoto blew up some buildings and then convinced munakata to fuck him into a wall. what can i say, i'm an arson kind of girl.

Most "holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: nothing posted this year! but i'm gonna talk about my impending january posts because god, fuck, i'm not waiting a year so that i can talk excitedly about my 60k nightmare, i plan to be fucking burned out on voltron by february.

anyway: the first time i tried to explain lotor/matt to my best girl, she promptly texted back in horror: "DID YOU WRITE FIC WHERE LOTOR SOULBONDS MATT AND LEAVES HIM TO GET GANGBANGED." and, like. i want to explain, but the actual explanation wasn't really that much more comforting. so, there'll be that. i guess.

(there's actually no non-con involved! it's not even dubcon! IT'S NOT EVEN MATT WHO GETS LEFT.)

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: the fucking motor fic. i knew what i liked about lotor as i was going in -- 90% of my motivation in writing it was "okay, i can't make any of the existing major lotor ships work for me, let's just throw this ridiculous spaghetti galra at a shipping wall and see what sticks" -- but matt was much more nebulous to me. i know fanon matt isn't all that far off from the matt we actually saw in season 4, but i was interested in someone who wasn't an older, cheerful, ingenious, meme-loving version of pidge. and the detail that i really got stuck on was the fact that he was a cadet when he went to kerberos, even though keith was the best pilot in his class and keith couldn't go. why?

obviously the simpler answer's "narrative convenience" and "why would anyone trust keith enough to send him into space with millions of dollars' worth of space equipment". but i really did want to play with the alternative too.

Hardest story to write: fucking god. the european travelogue was downright awful to get out. i think it's partly that there's an emotional density to it that isn't really present in my other fic, and partly that it's 25K OF SHIRO DESCRIBING ARCHITECTURE THAT IS PERFECTLY EASY FOR ANYBODY TO GOOGLE AND LOOK AT WITH THEIR OWN EYES.

i also found sheith particularly hard to build as a convincing slowburn. i have no idea how anyone does it. the ship's selling point, to me, is that keith would give shiro anything. if shiro weren't romantically interested, keith would live and die for him in every other way and be absolutely satisfied by that. i never write keith as secretly wanting more than shiro can give -- he'll do it by accident, when he misunderstands what shiro's capable of, but ultimately that's not what keith wants himself to be. shiro plays by the rules a little better, understands the risks + selfishness of dating someone only to leave them for a dangerous ten-month expedition -- but when it comes down to it, i can't write them as anything other than two people who understand each other at the baseline, where it counts. like, shiro may not actively acknowledge it, but i don't think he DOESN'T know that keith has no breaking point when it comes to him, and that there is very unlikely to be anyone else who could ever be what shiro is to him.

anyway: 25k of no-plot fluff! jesus! it was a fun little experiment, and i'm still amazed and delighted that anyone hunted my tumblr down to ask for fic. but i'll probably never write anything like that again.

Biggest disappointment: can you believe that i wrote 36k of psychic bonding fic and it didn't lead to telepathic porn? there's a lot in the utena pastiche that made me go "mm, not enough", a lot that was flatly messy first-draft fumbling, and i've never been happy about how it turned out, but that's still the biggest outrage to me. like. what was even the point. there's so much about it that makes me itch to rewrite, but the number-one reason that i never, ever will is that i'd have to find somewhere to fit porn to make it worth my time AND SOME THINGS ARE JUST IMPOSSIBLE.

Biggest surprise: i!! posted!! 100k+ words!!!!!!! WITH OVERFLOWING PUNCTUATION BECAUSE I DESERVE IT, MOTHERFUCKER. ficwise, though -- the lotor/matt au. why the fuck would you ship two characters who literally have no screen time together, share nothing in common, and are unlikely to develop a dynamic in future seasons, let alone this one? answer: ME: You have to promise to read the Lotor/Matt thing even though I've realised that their portmanteau is "Motor". MY GIRL: WELL now i have to read it ME: ME: Never mind, your boner killed mine.

but the joke's on me, because the one way to guarantee that i'll write something is a hot girl telling me she'll read it.

i love how most of this meme is grim self-encouragement to finish a fic that feels like it is literally killing me by dint of being the longest goddamn thing i've written in my life.

Most unintentionally telling story: well, it was GONNA be the junior detective kurusu akira fic, but i DIDN'T FINISH THAT.

on a more personal note: the every day au's ending was never in question for me. i'm rarely in the mood for conversation, but i can't stand keeping my feelings to myself: i don't feel real unless someone else can see me. it's why i like to yell in my post tags and do memes even though i follow like three actual personal blogs and a significant portion of this tumblr's designed to actively discourage 90% of people who stumble across it from adding me. the idea that, when you strip the viewer out, the object disappears -- that's probably as 'me' as a story gets.

Highlights + Wrap-up

Favourite Opening Lines (3):

The courthouse's a brushfire of camera lenses.

You wake up. [ ed. nt: not really the most unique or interesting of opening lines, but i've started to appreciate how this echoes throughout the piece and then builds into a clusterfuck chorus by the end. ]

[ nope. the other first lines weren't that great. fuck you, meme.]

Favorite 5 Line(s) Ficbits from Anywhere: [ ed. nt: fuck you, word limits & punctuation. ]

"I knew you were gone—long gone. No one could've called you back. But I just kept saying—if they were really Voltron, you'd be with them. You'd have come back for me."

"You stand," Allura whispers, "on territory that was consecrated by the five rituals of essential transference. You stand within the walls that my grandfather built, the walls for which my father sacrificed everything to keep from enemy dominion. The planet Altea remains because I lay claim to it, because I have not yielded to time and I will not yield. You may have served as Zarkon's witch; but in these halls, your very life hangs on Altea's mercy, my mercy. Either you'll remember an Altean's manners or a prisoner's—but so long as you speak to me, Haggar, you will choose one." -- so this fic was a series of dramatic triumphs that i did not build up to and therefore had no right to put in, but i don't care. if i'm going to write 100k++ of fic in a year, it's gonna be spread out over like ten different fics. and this is my favorite of the dramatic non-love confessional speeches that i wrote this year.

Keith lisps briefly and nastily under his breath. "Why would anyone pronounce an apostrophe?” <-- me throwing shade at a hundred years of scifi.

[ fuck you, listicles. ]

[ fuck you pt. 2. all the other sentences sucked. ]

Trivia left out of three fic:

pidge survives the events of the every day au and does eventually go on to form voltron. i left the fic where i did as a dramatic stopping point; in my head, i always knew where things were going to go afterwards. this clarity was helped in no small part because i had to immediately spill my guts to my best girl after she finished reading and realised in outrage that i'd given her a 19k fic in which her otp kissed zero (0) times. but yeah, everything works out -- albeit with a superdose of trauma -- and keith and pidge in particular have a moment which appeals to all my friendship kinks. i couldn't write the sequel in second-person, though, which is probably why i'll never do it. if i can't be pretentious and tragic, and i still can't work in any porn, then what is the point.

shiro, in the weird tattoo porn thing, has no idea of the effect he's having. in his mind, he's just being reasonable. this ties into my preference for writing s3-4!shiro as someone who thinks of himself as the same man who fell to earth a year ago, someone who has survived the galra over and over, someone who wants to lead in the war and deserves to do it. the trouble with this is that about one-point-five of those things are not necessarily things that the original shiro actually believes. i love this discrepancy between writing the two: there's one who buys into his own mythology of being a hero, and there's one who just wants everyone to survive and be happy and safe. in an ideal world (note: ideal to nobody but me), project kuron would be a thing where they created a perfect clone of shiro with all his memories but accidentally infused it with just enough galra beliefs about strength and the importance of war that it sabotages voltron's mission. that particular shiro doesn't mean to be fucked up, but his beliefs are, and he doesn't realise it until after the fallout of everything he's done hits the team. it's the entire basis for his behavior afterwards. this is one of those character development things that fell into the margins between the tattoo porn and its weird au sequel. i should have written the fic in between, i'm sure it would've been less confusing for everyone who read the goddamn sequence, but honestly, you could not pay me enough to write about keith and shiro's relationship falling apart.

this was never made explicit in the fic itself, though it seems pretty clear to me, but here goes. of the ten photographs, nine are pictures that shiro takes for keith to remember them by. the last is one that keith takes for shiro.

Lessons learned about writing in 2017:

when in doubt during edits, read the paragraph out loud. you don't have to do it very loudly, but people respond to something that flows off the tongue even if they aren't actually reading it out to themselves.

you're a niche writer. you write for you. that means you don't really have to edit if you're tired.

deadlines are bullshit. don't sign up for any more events featuring those.

with the way i write, there's always an element of mistrust. in my shorter fics, people are breaking up because they can't trust each other, or they're teetering on the brink of getting together -- but. in my longer fics, i really, really love to throw an unexplained element of mistrust into the mix (see: the fic where shiro leaves his own dimension and refuses to go back without any explanation) and only 'reveal 'it at the end. mistrust is an easy shortcut to tension. it's a good way to reframe the story, but it's also ... hm. predictable if it's literally all you write? i like to think that i'm capable of writing plots whose value isn't entirely based on the way they're told. i just need to let the story breathe once in a while.

the comma before 'too' is grammatically incorrect when that's the end of the sentence. my entire life is a goddamn lie.

there's such a thing as overdetail. a loose sketch and a twinkle of atmosphere will do better than three dense paragraphs detailing exactly where all the cathedrals are. my god, i never want to leave this continent again.

the best writing feeling is posting something and then tweaking all the small mistakes out of it. the second-best writing feeling is bringing someone you like a freshly-killed (read: edited) piece of prose, then demanding pets and cuddling for your great act of magnimity and courage.

looking back on my life, i should have been born a cat.

Fic-writing goals for 2018

post/finish all 80k of my existing drafts, THEN LEAVE VOLTRON FOREVER, I'M SO DARKLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS EXODUS.

seriously, write for any fandom but voltron. oh my god.

maybe i can just dive headfirst into ocean's eight and write a lot of bantery f/f until everyone forgets my embarrassing gay robolion phase.

a sci-fi au for nirvana in fire, heavily influenced by recent military scifi, in which (contrary to all the imperial death traditions) the chiyan army's memories and consciousness are ostensibly deleted from the imperial archives as punishment for their betrayal. several years down the line, jingyan finds his political influence rising with the advice of a helpful and very insistent ai advisor. IT'S TOO COMPLICATED AND I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT IT.

did you know that the natori/matoba section on ao3 has no explicit fic at all? like, zero. 2018 goals, baby. i don't care that nobody needs to know what horrible things they'd do to each other in bed. i'm gonna be this ship's rule 34, or the arsonist who burns down the house of the person who gets to it before me.

[sally-mun]

As someone who hasn't, wouldn't, and won't be experiencing Major/Minor (or whatever it was called) could you perhaps analyze more specifically some of the things you felt were missteps more in depth, so others who decide they might want to make a visual novel or even just a story, might be able to avoid the same issues? I realize this might not be your area of interest, but I'm always interested in these kinds of analyses.

Man, where do I even begin.

I suppose I should start by saying that this game could have been fine; I don’t necessarily hate this game for the story, even if I think it’s uninspired. I play lots of point-and-click games and usually enjoy them (even the stupid ones) so long as they have merit in one area or another. But that’s the core of the problems with Major/Minor: It has NO merit to work with. Its construction shows absolutely no understanding of this genre of game design. Or of writing. Or of entertainment in general. Or of simply respecting one’s audience.

First and foremost, let’s discuss visual novels.

The critical difference between a novel and a visual novel is interactivity; a novel is a set and done deal that takes its readers along for the ride, whereas a visual novel invites the readers to be part of the ride itself. The direction of the story is influenced by the player, and this allows them to personally take ownership of later events. It’s the sort of game that tries to put you in the role of the protagonist in the most direct form possible. Like other first-person games your view as a player is exactly that of the character you’re playing, but in a VN’s case it’s like reading a comic book in a choose-your-own-adventure format.

Major/Minor not only fails on both the visual and novel elements, but it also fails when combined as a visual novel.

1) Visual

For the most part, visual novels don’t have a lot of action. They primarily consist of conversations with NPCs and usually take place in static locations. For this reason, both the characters and the environments need to have a lot of personality. Players need to feel like they’re actually having conversations with the characters and that they’ve entered a unique location that sees real use. This is the red, meaty center of how VNs engage and gratify their players.

Designing characters in a visual novel is about more than giving each one a different face; it’s about giving each character enough of a range of actions and emotions to sell the idea that the character is actually interacting with you, and in a way that’s truly unique from every other character. In real life, people do all sorts of crap when speaking: Our expressions change, we gesture with our hands, our posture varies, and sometimes we even have small ticks associated with certain topics or emotions. Between these visual cues and the actual discussions themselves, players ought to know the NPCs well enough to be able to describe them like real-life friends by the end of the game.

This brings us to Major/Minor’s first serious offense: Every character has one face. Typically in a VN, each character has a minimum of half a dozen expressions, poses, and gestures/ticks to match the different emotions they’ll need to exhibit over the course of their conversation topics. The characters in Major/Minor can only make a single expression and pose throughout the entire game, which immediately leads to some seriously disjointed discussions. It’s hard for me to take a character seriously when they say they’re angry with me when the art staring through the computer screen is bright, cheerful, and apparently mid-laugh. Sorry, NPC #672, I really don’t care that you’re allegedly on the brink of tears, because your singular piece of character art is so smarmy and mischievous that I forgot you were trying to tell me something tragic.

What makes this even more annoying is that most of the characters DO have a secondary piece of art, but it’s only ever used ONE time as an introduction to a new character before the game chucks it in the bin and we never see it again. Each character COULD have had at least two expressions if the dev had planned his commissions carefully enough, buuut instead he chose to get two shots that are barely distinguishable from one another so there could be a ~=*FLOURISH*=~ when we see someone for the first time. Granted, two per character still isn’t anywhere near enough, but it’s a hell of a lot better than just one! It makes me wonder why he bothered to spend the money on a second image for each character at all, since half of these commissions only get about 10 seconds of screen time. What a waste.

And hey, speaking of wasted opportunities, let’s talk more about the environments! Lots of visual novels don’t spend much energy on their backgrounds, and although that’s usually fine (albeit not my first preference), Major/Minor seriously needed to think more about its settings. For the moment I’ll ignore the laziness of the fact that the backgrounds are generic photos with a blur filter over them; what’s more important is that this game loves to tell us all kinds of random crap about the rooms we’re in, especially during the scenes that take place in Japan. This game would’ve benefited dearly from simply having more detailed backgrounds and just letting us observe the goings on of the room on our own. Y’know, because that makes it more... visual.

Honestly, if it were me, I would’ve taken it all a step further and gone full-blown Ace Attorney on the environments. In AA games, investigating the scene is very important because you have to look for clues. I’m not saying Major/Minor needed to let you hunt for items, but I do think that it could’ve cut a ton of random information from the text by simply letting us inspect the backgrounds. That way the players that want to know what a kotatsu is can find out on their own time and players that already know or don’t care can move on.

Something else that would’ve brought the game a much-needed boost of interest is cut scenes. As noted earlier, visual novels don’t tend to have a lot of action, so when something physical DOES happen, it makes an impact. One way to maximize that flash of excitement is with a cut scene – or at least, the visual novel equivalent of one. A “cut scene” in a VN isn’t typically a full motion video like most video games boast; it still makes use of a static image, but it’s an image whose quality far surpasses that of the rest of the art in the game. Maybe it’s abnormally large and the camera slowly pans across for dramatic effect, or maybe it’s a scene drawn from an interesting angle that isn’t the player’s POV. Some games take this even farther and really do animate their cut scenes a bit (usually on par with a nice animated gif). Lots of VN cut scenes make use of sound effects or action-specific music cues to keep the player emotionally involved with the scene, as it’s a moment that’s out of the player’s control.

Major/Minor, on the other hand, does none of this. Much like the drought of facial expressions, the game simply pelts you with paragraph after paragraph to tell you about the events taking place around you, rather than simply letting you see for yourself and be, y’know, involved. Even a handful of cut scenes that had some real effort put into them would’ve really given this game some pep. Not only would it have kept me engaged as a player, but it would’ve weeded out even more unnecessary narration.

Oh, and speaking of weeding shit out of the text…

2) Novel

The writing in this game badly, badly needed to be edited. Like, so badly it makes me physically hurt from how poorly this text is constructed. I’m not talking about the simple things like misspellings and failed capitalizations, I mean BIG mistakes, like sentence fragments and improper conjugations and completely misusing some words all together. It’s also excruciatingly repetitive. Never in my life have I ever seen prose that recaps itself so frequently – sometimes literally within minutes of the event that it’s reminding you of. It even recaps itself within the same block of text a few times.

It’s pretty obvious the dev never allowed a seasoned editor to proof the text, but it’s so unbelievably bad that I’m not even sure the dev himself ever gave it a second glance. It reeks of being a first draft that was never once revisited; actually, it strongly reminds me of the sort of stories I myself wrote when I was about 13. At that time I wanted so badly to write big, dramatic stories! Stories that had deep themes and lots of intrigue! With a complicated plot and several subplots!! And lots of characters that would all totally be different and completely matter!!!! But the problem was I was so wrapped up in wanting to make my stories big, impressive epics that I stretched myself way too thin and everything came out incredibly shallow. It’s honestly kind of eerie to think back on the things I wrote as a kid while I play this game. The similarities are so striking that I can’t tell if this is something the dev wrote at that age and just never decided to polish, or if he did write it as an adult but has the writing skill-level of a teenager.

But honestly, I’d overlook all the technical flaws and melodrama this guy could throw at me if he would just show and not tell. “Show, don’t tell” is one of the oldest rules in the book when it comes to storytelling, and for good reason: Telling instead of showing is not only fucking boring, but it treats the reader like an idiot. If a writer knows what they’re doing, they shouldn’t have to tell, because they’d just demonstrate those things instead.

For example, let’s examine another huge flaw with the writing: Incredibly shallow characterizations. Early in the game the player meets a character named Rook. Rook is very rude. I know this because the game tells me. All. The. Time. I legit don’t remember how many times the game has mentioned that Rook is rude at this point. The dev seems completely oblivious to the notion that you don’t have to tell the player these things. You can just… write Rook as being rude. Trust me, my dude, I can figure out if a character is an asshole or not. Not only can Rook’s rudeness be demonstrated by how he treats me as a player, but it can be further reinforced by other characters reacting to him in a put-off manner. If you’re so concerned that I won’t pick up on the fact that Rook is a rude person just based on how he behaves, then you’re doing it wrong, end of discussion.

But then, as I said, the characterizations are shallow in general. Everyone tends to have their one basic trope and the story rests on the idea that you know what the character is. None of the scenes go out of their way to really dig into who someone is – which is kind of amazing, honestly, since the prose is so obsessed with making sure you know the most inane and unrelated shit half the time – and even after I’ve known a character for several chapters they still feel like a cardboard cut-out to me.

To be honest, I’m kind of impressed by the sheer volume of ways that Major/Minor fails at showing instead of telling. It tells you what characters are like instead of just letting you interact with them, it tells you about the places you visit instead of just letting you view them, it tells you every single time the characters have a mood shift or expression change because it couldn’t be bothered to give them each more than one face, and it hamfists unnecessary information into the script where it’s unneeded and interrupts the scene – and THEN, it makes SURE you notice that it’s telling instead of showing by repeating those things over and over and over again!

All of this is further exacerbated, by the way, because the dev has no idea how to tell a story in the first place. Even with all the above flaws, I miiight have still been able to enjoy this game if it was just a compelling narrative in any sense of the word at all. I will happily deal with poor construction and telling-not-showing if the story still has some intrigue. Even a flawed story can have a mind-blowing plot and keep you reading just to find out what happens next, right? I thought so too, until I realized that Major/Minor goes SO far out of its way to spoil its own plot that it frequently makes you sit through scenes that you, the protagonist, are not even present for. Yes, in a game that’s built upon being a first-person experience, the story will slam on the brakes and take you OUT of the protagonist’s shoes to make you sit by as an observer to events that probably would’ve been an great reveal later on had the dev just kept his mouth shut.

3) Visual Novel

So the visuals suck and the writing sucks, but hey, lots of games get by without investing much in those areas. Could Major/Minor pull it together and at least give the player an interesting mechanic? Hahahaha no, of course it didn’t. As far as the gameplay is concerned, Major/Minor is so bad that in many ways I hesitate to even call it a game.

The cornerstone of visual novels is making choices. They can range from serious decisions that determine the overall outcome of the game or small cosmetic details, but either way, the core of this gaming style is putting the player in the driver’s seat as often as possible. When playing Major/Minor, however, the player is strapped into a straight jacket, blindfolded, and tossed into the trunk of the damn car. This game is so reluctant to surrender control of the narrative that it’s not uncommon at all to go through entire sections of the game having made no choices whatsoever. It fails so spectacularly as a visual novel that I’d be willing to bet that the dev had never played one before. He is astonishingly disinterested in what makes a visual novel enjoyable to the player.

There’s a principle in game design called Illusion of Control. The goal of this idea is to allow the player to feel like they’re in charge of the game while actually keeping them within strict boundaries. It applies to a lot of games, but it’s especially important in visual novels. Players need to be able to dictate how the story progresses, even if some of those choices make no real impact on outcomes. For example, players can enter conversation trees with NPCs that seemingly offer a lot of control – perhaps the player chooses the discussion topics, or can decide if they want to be shy or snarky in their replies – and yet at the end of the scene there could realistically be no change to the story’s progress. The greater point is that the player feels like they handled the conversation the way they wanted to. This allows them to still feel like they’ve gotten somewhere and that they accomplished something.

Major/Minor appears to scoff at the very idea of this, like the game’s worried you’ll cramp its style if it gives you too much power.The player is allotted no input whatsoever on how the PC treats the other characters, what subjects to discuss, where they’d like to go, how to react to the actions of other characters… It’s truly mind-blowing just how consistently the game misses opportunities to allow the player even the illusion of control. For example, there’s a scene where the player character (PC) is awakened in the middle of the night by a pounding on the door, and no options are offered on how the player would like to handle this. A better game might allow the player to choose if they want to pretend to keep sleeping, or call out to whomever is knocking, or try escaping out a window, or crack the door open to see what the person wants. Even if it’s an absolute necessity to the plot that this person enters the room, it’s still better to let the player choose, because there are a plethora of ways to redirect each of those options back around toward the character getting in.

Unfortunately, Major/Minor is just too damn lazy to be bothered with gameplay, and the PC just lets the stranger in with no input from the player. Soon after, the stranger attacks the PC, which would again be a prime opportunity for lots of reactionary options: The player could duck! Or the player could punch their assailant! Or maybe they could kick instead! Maybe they’d try to run away or call for help! Buuut no, Major/Minor really doesn’t care what you want YOUR CHARACTER to do, and it’s already decided that you’re going to put up no fight at all and immediately pass out. It’s by far one of the most unsatisfying things I’ve ever experienced in a video game.

The disconnect between the player and the protagonist is so extreme that I honestly don’t feel it’s a fair assessment to refer to the protagonist as the “player character.” It’s not uncommon for visual novel protagonists to speak in the first person, but in most games it feels like the PC is speaking on your behalf because they’re acting according to your will. The protagonist of Major/Minor decides so many things for themself that it stopped feeling like “my” character a very, very long time ago. This character isn’t me and never was; it’s the main character of a book that I didn’t ask to read, who very occasionally pauses to ask my opinion on something.

HEY HOWDY HEY SPEAKING OF PAUSING… If you boot this “game” up for a session, you’d better hope you have plenty of time on your hands to get through it, because you’re at the dev’s mercy for when you can save your progress. Being able to save anytime you want is a staple of visual novels because 1) people read at wildly different paces, and 2) for many people, excessive reading makes them tired. Not only that, but sometimes life just plain gets in the way and you have to pick up and go on short notice. Major/Minor ignores all of these factors and leaves the player relegated to appointed checkpoints throughout the game.

Now, I’m not necessarily saying that checkpoints are inherently bad, but they do need to be used very, very wisely. Any game (VN or otherwise) that doesn’t allow the player to save anytime they want needs to be sure checkpoints are reasonably close from any given location, and furthermore that they’re spaced at regular intervals. As I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, however, the dev flushed that idea down the toilet along with what was left of his common sense and parents’ love. Sometimes Major/Minor stacks save points practically back-to-back within the span of a few minutes, and in other cases I’ve literally played for over and hour before the game finally rewarded me with the option to save.

There’s no discernible pattern or technique that I can detect for when save points are bestowed on the player; you’re not even guaranteed an opportunity to save when the game switches chapters! I would say that I can’t fathom why the dev thought this would be a good idea, but let’s not kid ourselves here, it’s clear that the dev never thought this through in the first place. If he had, he might’ve noticed that players being uncertain about whether or not they’ll be able to save their progress discourages them from playing at all.

Also, before I fully move on from the game design, I just wanted to make a brief side note about the music. To be honest, I turned the music off a VERY long time ago, so I don’t even remember what it sounds like; however, I’ve read that all of the music in the game is from the free assets you get in RPG Maker. I’ve further read that the free assets (both audio and visual) were the entire reason the dev decided to use RPG Maker for this game in the first place, in spite of the fact that there are other programs out there specifically geared toward making visual novels. This is worth mentioning because it further highlights just how lazy this entire game is. It’s not a sin to use free program assets – that IS what they’re there for, after all – but when you ONLY use the free assets and then advertise your game on Steam for being sooo creative and original, AND have the gall to charge $20 for it?? Yeah, that’s a gigantic slap in the face.

Speaking of Steam, you’d think a game like this would’ve been weeded out by the gaming community for being the garbage that it is, right? After all, there’s a ranking right at the top of the page showing the proportion of good and bad reviews it’s gotten, and right now it says the feedback is “very positive.” I will say that I do take community feedback into consideration when I’m thinking about a game that I haven’t otherwise heard of before, and my misstep with this game has definitely taught me a valuable lesson. When I saw that the game is ranked “very positive” and I scrolled down to see several glowing reviews, I felt that was sufficient enough research to know if the game was worth my time and money.

However, upon trying out the game and realizing just how badly I’d been deceived, I did a little more digging. As it turns out, the dev is known for flagging negative reviews as “abusive” and getting them deleted, allowing him to effectively filter out the bad press so long as he can make some kind of a case to Steam. This debacle has taught me that it’s not enough to scroll to the bottom of a Steam page for user reviews, as those tend to be the most recent; what you do instead is click the “Read all [x] reviews” link, as those reviews are sorted by popularity. THIS is where you’ll find the reviews that the community has deemed the most helpful and informative, and in this case, it’s like night and day. ALL of the highest-ranked reviews of Major/Minor are negative, and the numbers are staggering. Literally HUNDREDS of people have ranked these terrible reviews as helpful, and most of them are in the 80-90% range on agreement. You have to load more reviews four times to find even one single positive post, and once you do start getting into the positives, the upvotes are significantly fewer.

SO, in conclusion...

I want to say that’s about all I have to give on this subject, but the sad truth is it’s not. I could probably critique this game line-by-line, moment-by-moment, if I really wanted to. Fortunately for my sanity, I really don’t want to. … Not right now, anyway. I’m sure I’ll lose it at some point and decide to go through and count all the missed opportunities in the game or something, but I won’t be doing that right now, thankfully.

So in the vein of others learning from the mistakes of this game: If you were thinking about buying Major/Minor, don’t. If you bought it a while ago during a sale and were thinking about starting to play it, don’t. If you’re interested in making a visual novel and wanted to learn from this game’s mistakes… Well granted there’s a lot to learn about what not to do, but still, don’t give this lazy, deceptive dev any more money. Learn from this guy’s shortcomings based on the feedback of players. Hell, read or watch a Let’s Play if you really want to experience it first-hand. Just please don’t buy and play this game. As a favor to ME, please don’t buy and play this game.

<< Last | First| Next >>

[salted-barbed-wire]

“Yes”

Thanks for the request!

Prompt #11: I was drunk when you asked me what I was doing for New Years and I said “You”. Wrestler: Dean Ambrose

Still accepting requests!

“Don’t touch that!” I tried to shout over the music in the background. Too late, I thought as I watched a plate hit the ground and shatter. I sighed, glaring at Dolph and Miz. They hid the football behind their backs and scampered off out of sight. I began quickly sweeping the mess up while partying bodies around me bumped my shoulders. I nearly lost the dust pan full of broken china several times. “Girl, will you put that down?” I heard my roommate tsk from behind me. “It’s a party and you’re not enjoying yourself.” “Sasha, I can’t enjoy anything when our apartment is about to get wrecked!” Sasha put her hands on her hips, “Look, (Y/N), you’re going to relax, come take some jello shots, and have some fun!” “You promised we were just having a few people!” I said gesturing around the living room. “This is way more than a few.” “Well I can’t help it when half of our locker room, invited the Smackdown locker room too!” I rolled my eyes in response, knowing good and well that she had probably invited quite a few of them too. “Dean’s here.” The words knocked into me like a freight train, “What?” “Dean Ambrose? The man of your dreams? He’s in your apartment.” I looked around the room with a stupid smile spread across my face. “Where?” I had developed a crush on Dean earlier in the year and I was so disappointed when we got drafted to different rosters during the brand split. As of this moment, I would’ve traded Dean for Sasha if I could’ve. “He’s acting bar tender I guess. I think that’s where he feels comfortable. Apparently he’s not much of a party goer either.” She wore a triumphant smile. “Go talk to him, I’ll keep an eye on the rest of these idiots.” “Promise?” I begged. “Promise. Go get your flirt on!” She shooed me away towards the kitchenette. I walked up to the counter where Baron and Alexa were flirting with each other. Dean had a look of disgust on his face watching them. “Hey there stranger.” I said to my old friend as I approached him. “Hey there doll face!” He said, a smile replacing his snarl. “Long time no see.” Dean wrapped his arms around me and lifting me off the ground in a giant hug. He was so warm and he smelled like Jack Daniels and smoke. “Have you started smoking again?” I asked confused. “Only when I drink, sweetheart.” He released me and walked back to the alcohol. “What’s your poison?” “I’m not drinking tonight.”  “No no no. You’re hosting a party. You have to have at least one!” “Dean! I have to keep an eye on things. You know I can’t.” I tried to explain. He shook a finger at me, “Ah, ah, ah. I know you’re weakness.” “No you don’t.” I huffed. His devilish smile widened as he turned to the fridge. He opened it and pulled out a tray. I couldn’t help myself. I had to have what he hand in his hands. “JELLO SHOTS!” He shouted. The crowd cheered.  “Nope!” He said slapping hands away, “(Y/N) has to have one first!” I shook my head, “Nope. No, no, no, no.” He held a red one up in front of me, “I made them with tequila,” I licked my lips as I watched him dangle it in front of me. I sighed. “Gimmie that!” I snatched the little canister from him. “Shame on you and your need to peer pressure.”  I tipped the cup back and slid my tongue around the jello, knocking it back to my throat. It slid down and the crowd cheered as I held up my hands in success.

Several shots and a glass of whisky later, Dean drug me outside with him on a smoke break. I watched him smoke his cigarette. He watched me lay out on our patio, half awake. I couldn’t help but giggle as I watched him wobble in front of me. “What are you giggling at?” He asked as he exhaled. “You’re wobbling.” I laughed. “No. You’re just extremely drunk.” He smiled proudly. “You’re welcome.” “Mmmm. Happy New Year’s to me.” I said smiling up at the stars over the balcony.  “Here in about thirty minutes it’ll be 2017.” “Yep.” I said popping the ‘p’. “Another year down.” “Are you into that whole, ‘New Year, New Me, crap?” “Oh yeah.” I let the sarcasm drip off my words, “What are you doing for New Years?” Dean rolled his eyes, “I don’t know. I’m more of a ‘Where ever the wind takes me’ type of guy.” Now it was my turn for the eye roll. I took a sip from my drink, watching him stare out above the city lights. The breeze caught his shirt and pressed it back against his body. I licked my lips as I stared, hypnotized by his godly figure. “You there?” Dean’s voice broke the spell. “What?” I asked shaking my head. “I asked what you were doing for New Year’s.” “You.” I clapped my hand over my mouth. The response wasn’t supposed to be heard by anyone except for me. It was supposed to be a silent thought; a wish. But here I was, unable to control my liquor as I blurted out my most private desire. I stared at Dean, who locked eyes with me. I waited for the embarrassing shut down, but it never came. He only stood there, taking one last hit off the cigarette before tossing the bud into an ash urn. He walked over to my chair, knelt down, and looked me dead in the face. His eyes searched mine, they didn’t look angry or sad or frustrated or embarrassed. Dean looked like he was trying to figure something out. “How drunk are you?” He asked finally. I stayed still, my hands still clapped over my mouth. “I only ask,” he started. “Because I don’t want to take advantage of you if you’re unable to say ‘no’.” I felt my jaw drop, my eyes widened. Is he asking permission? “You have to tell me, (Y/N)” Dean grabbed my chin, tilting my face to look him in those baby blues. “You have to give me a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ before I take you. I will not do anything if you don’t respond.” My mouth whispered the word almost inaudibly. “So I can hear it, love.” He said as he pulled my hands away from my mouth. “Yes.” I whispered again. “Say it loud enough for me to know you’re not acting on tequila alone.” “Yes, Dean!” I shouted, finally frustrated. “I want you to fuck me, alright?” I crossed my arms. “There, I said it.” His lips came crashing down onto mine. They tasted sweet like the jack he had been drinking, yet smokey from the cigarette. I poured myself back into him as he placed his hand on my head. His tongue tasted mine and I moaned. “Not out here.” He whispered against my lips. “We need privacy.” “My bed room IS inside. This is my house party remember?” Dean stood and pulled me up by my hand leading me into the apartment. I could see Sasha sitting on Dolph’s lap giving me a thumbs up as we passed. We snuck into my room. Silently closing the door behind us, so as not to alarm any of my guests. I turned from shutting the door, straight into Dean’s chest. It was like running into a boulder.  “Are you still saying ‘yes’, darlin’?” He asked staring down at me. “I will not push you into anything.” “Yes.” He picked me up and laid me on my plush bed, running his hands all over my body. His long skinny fingers pulled at the fabric, his lips went from mine, to my cheek, to my jaw, to my neck. I could feel teeth digging into the flesh. It drove me crazy. I tried to help him as he undid my blouse’s buttons, but he managed to do a better job than I was. He pulled it open and looked at my naked torso.  “I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he whispered. I felt a hand brush against my rips, it tickled a little but in the most satisfying way. Ambrose leaned down and kissed the skin above my navel, then planted a line of kisses above it moving up to my bra. I didn’t even feel him unhook it, but it popped away from my body in an instant.  I squirmed out of my clothes. I obviously wasn’t quick enough because Dean let out a growl and attacked my nipple with his mouth. My head fell back as he flicked it with his tongue, grazed it with his teeth, suckled it to make it harden to a point. “Oh holy shit, Ambrose.” I groaned. “When are you just going to take me?” He flicked his tongue against my breast again, “Patience. I’m savoring you. You might not give me this opportunity again.” With that, his fingers undid the button and the zipper of my jeans, and he drug them down my legs, feeling my skin beneath his fingertip as they fell. “So soft.” He moaned, pushing on my thighs to spread them apart. “Did you wear this for me?” He asked as he tugged at my little black thong. I bit my lip, “Maybe?” He pushed the fabric away, exposing my heat. “I love it. It looks so pretty on you. And it moves out of the way so easily.” My world spun as his tongue flicked against the lips of my entrance. Dean pushed my legs farther apart and licked two fingers.  “So wet already?” He teased. His long fingers pushed into me; pumping in and out slowly. My eyes went to the back of my skull, my back arched. Dean’s fingers quickened their pace. I was so close to the edge. I felt his warm breath as he got closer to my wetness. His tongue reached out and flicked my clit. It hit again, and again, and again. The new sensation only heightened my climb to the big O. I bit my lip in an attempt to avoid crying out too loud. I felt Ambrose moan against my pussy and it sent me into a spiral. “Oh my God, Dean.” I said as my head spun. He kept teasing me, licking my pussy, pumping his fingers in and out of me.  “Dean- I... uh.. I can’t!” I whined. I tried to push him off of me but he simply shook his head, causing me to nearly scream in pleasure at the way it felt on my clit. “Dean!” I cried out. “I can’t!” His hand gripped my hip, securing him to my lower body. He’s going to make me cum again! I bit down on my lip, hard. I can’t let them hear. I could taste my blood in my mouth. His fingers rolled over my g spot again, sending me into another frenzy. I cried out a little louder this time. Dean stood up with a proud look on his face. “Yes?” He asked. “Please!” I begged, my head still reeling from my second orgasm. I felt him line up the head of his cock to my entrance. When did he take his pants off? I wondered. My question was forgotten as Dean slowly and gently pressed his way into me. He was huge! Even easing his way in almost knocked the wind out of me. He hovered over me, his t shirt still on. “Take your shirt off.” I grunted underneath him. “Why?” He asked as he tried to start moving.  “Stop! Take your shirt off!” I demanded. He leaned his weight back and ripped his shirt off over his head, still managing to stay inside of me. I traced my fingers over his chest, licking my lips as I marveled at him. Dean’s hips smacked into mine. My hand flexed a little. Smack! Again went the sound of our flesh pounding together. I moved my hands to his back, pulling him closer to me. “Yes.” I moaned. “Yes what, baby.” He grunted down at me. “Yes, Dean! More!” He moved faster, harder. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge. I was so close, but I wasn’t ready to release yet. I needed more of him, more of this. I didn’t want to let go. My fingers dug my nails into his back as he pushed rougher and rougher. He was close too, I could feel his movements becoming sloppier. “Cum for me.” He commanded. “I’m close, (Y/n).” I allowed my release, screaming his name as the orgasm rushed over me. “Fuck.” He hissed as he released his load into me as well. Pumping his hips against mine a few more times as I felt his seed trickle out into me. Dean’s body rolled off of mine and onto the mattress next to me. We both laid there, staring up at the ceiling, out of breath.  “Wow.” I said. “Ditto.” He chuckled. Fireworks spread across the night sky outside my window. Is it midnight already? “It’s already 2017?” I asked. “Yep.” Dean said, turning his head to smile at me. “And it looks like you’ve gotten a head start on your New Year’s resolution.”

[abnhgod]

6 Tips For Making Funny Movies

In the wake of composing and coordinating comedies like the imminent Super Troopers 2 for more than 20 years, this is what Jay Chandrasekhar realized.

6 Tips For Making Funny Movies– Or YouTube Videos– 

how to make funny videos entertenment

The Avengers has Nick Fury. Wu-Tang Clan has the RZA. What's more, Broken Lizard, the parody aggregate behind the pantheon-status Super Troopers, has Jay Chandrasekhar. Like Nick Fury and the RZA, he's the person who set up the group together, administers their missions, and stands his ground in some other limit he's required (for his situation, acting– as opposed to superheroism or rapping, separately.) obviously, he's likewise gone up against a large number of undertakings past Broken Lizard. All things considered, the best way to keep up a 20-year vacation in making clever films and TV is to always make, similar to a parody shark.

Jay ChandrasekharPHOTO: DAVID LIVINGSTON, GETTY IMAGES

On the off chance that Broken Lizard sounds like an odd name– it is actually good for nothing, only two words set up together in a request that tickled the guys– it could've been more awful. The gathering began under the moniker Charred Goose Beak back at Colgate University. An age before YouTube turned into a medium of moment wide circulation, Broken Lizard put out recordings the way out forefathers would have done it: in front of an audience, before uproarious hordes of intoxicated understudies. Subsequent to coming back to Colgate from a mid-year of performing improv and stand-up at Second City in Chicago, and boasting about his satire abuses, Chandrasekhar was forced into putting on a week by week live show on grounds. The piece of this show he delighted in the most, in any case, turned into the pre-taped business spoofs and interstitials played in front of an audience while he and alternate entertainers changed ensembles. He'd enrolled the most amusing children at the college to be included, and the recordings they made together changed the course of their lives.

The main movie Jay Chandrasekhar coordinated, a school comic drama called Puddle Cruiser, was acknowledged at the Sundance Film Festival in 1997. Despite the fact that his second and most well-known motion picture, Super Troopers, really put Broken Lizard on the guide, Puddle Cruiser earned the gathering a pilot bargain at NBC. The pilot didn't get got, however, it was seen by Judd Apatow, who kicked off Chandrasekhar's TV profession, by having him rudder scenes of the fleeting school sitcom, Undeclared. From that point forward, the Broken Lizard engineer has kept occupied as the gathering's in-house chief, and in addition a TV journeyman– before and behind the camera.

Club Dread, 2004

In spite of the fact that the present harvest of trying producers cutting their teeth on YouTube may not confront a similar sort of difficulties Broken Lizard did getting off the ground, they can even now take in a great deal from what those difficulties constrained the gathering to make sense of alone. As he completes the process of shooting Super Troopers 2, Co.Create stopped for a moment to talk with Chandrasekhar about how to make an amusing motion picture, as well as how to make a clever motion picture into a long profession.

Emerge ready to take care of business

Softened Lizard accepts up opening films with a blast, as fans can validate. Their approach is designed according to James Bond flicks– yet the gathering just figured out how to function that route after not doing as such with their first at-bat.

In only a day, Broken Lizard crowdfunded $2 million for Super Troopers 2. The gathering discusses its creative crusade and the motion picture it financed. Read More >>

"With Puddle Cruiser, the initial 15 minutes are the weakest," Chandrasekhar says. "When you add up to questions and you have a powerless opening, it's a genuine issue. At a few screenings, we'd see the odd walkout before the motion picture even went ahead. In any case, to balance that, we'd do outlines before the show, to present the film. We completed a muffle where we'd imagine the projector had gobbled up the film print. Like, 'Don't stress, another one is being sent to us, it's in an auto in transit here.' And the group of onlookers would moan and some person would begin bugging us– and it'd be one of us, obviously. And afterward another person would begin irritating the heckler– and it'd be another of us, obviously. And afterward that person would offer to kill a brief period, and haul out this spurious manikin named Billy he happened to have with him, and he'd begin doing this silly ventriloquist voice. And after that, the group of onlookers resembled, "What is this?" But they'd be chuckling. And afterward a person would come in wearing a UPS uniform with this tremendous film print and everybody would cheer and after that, he would trip and unspool the entire thing everywhere. So we'd make them chuckle and after that, we'd demonstrate to them the motion picture and in light of the fact that we're indistinguishable folks in the film from in front of an audience, we'd normally have the capacity to move through the initial 15 minutes. Be that as it may, it was irritating to need. So we said when we make the following motion picture we're going to influence a fucking to kick ass opening scene so we never need to complete one of these goddamn portrays again."

"With Super Troopers, I thought we missed once more. We're headed to travel to Utah for Sundance and I actually call part of the gang, such as, 'Bring the spurious manikin, we're going to fuckin' require it.' But when we go to the screening, it was an extremely stoned and gently hummed swarm, since this is around 11:30 on a Friday night. What's more, it promptly began to get a little chuckling. At that point, it rapidly just wound up noticeably unstable. That is to say, it resembled when the title came up, every one of the 400 individuals burst into commendation and it was simply, similar to, 'Affirm, we don't need to do this fucking sketch until kingdom come.'"

BE YOUR OWN EDITOR

Chandrasekhar is an individual from the Editor's Guild, despite the fact that regardless he utilizes different editors on his ventures. He cut his teeth working in an altering cove, and the experience is taken care of his comedic senses.

"What makes Broken Lizard, I believe, is our planning. You can like it dislike it but rather it is our own and that is a direct result of the altar," he says. "I strolled into the altering room when I was a lesser in school and I watched the person make cuts and I didn't realize what the heck was going on. He was simply assembling these shots and recounting the story, and it was stunning. At the point when Broken Lizard got to New York, I landed a position at an altering house as a chief since we were preparing to shoot a 30-minute film. I had been set off to this place called Film Video Arts to cut Broken Lizard crap and I never truly could bear the cost of a supervisor so I would request that the chief show me how to do the cuts. Sooner or later, I sensed that I should simply land a position there, so I could alter for nothing. Furthermore, I inevitably began cutting, and I was overseeing and cutting, and we fundamentally would shoot stuff and after that, I'd work from nine to seven or eight around evening time and I'd go shower and afterward we'd come in at ten o'clock and cut till four toward the beginning of the day. It was debilitating, however, it was an important training."

The Dukes Of Hazard, 2005; BTS shot of chief Jay Chandrasekhar chatting on set with Johnny Knoxville as Luke Duke and Seann William Scott as Bo Duke.PHOTO: SAM EMERSON, WARNER BROS., GETTY IMAGES

Catch A RANGE OF PERFORMANCES– EVEN FROM YOURSELF

As a chief who likewise acts, Chandrasekhar needs to hit the privilege notes– and likes to have an outside viewpoint to enable him to realize that he has.

"What I do when I act and direct is I complete a little form, go somewhat greater, complete a medium one, an over-the-main one, and afterward much greater than that. I'll complete six readings of the line. What's more, they're not all the same," Chandrasekhar says. "To make sure I know whether I wasn't right about what I ought to have done, I, fortunately, have this more unpretentious variant. You settle on your choice as a performer, and you end up noticeably persuaded that it's an awesome choice, and you may be correct. In any case, at that point some individual's watching you and they're similar to, 'You know, you're not sufficiently uproarious on that, you're not sufficiently enormous, you're not sufficiently little. You're feeling the loss of the joke.' Only someone watching you can see that. You require some person there to state, 'I don't know whether it is.' Or, 'Truly, it is. Be that as it may, attempt it along these lines.'"

MORE COMPULSIVE REWRITING THAN ON-SET IMPROVISING

Composing a screenplay is the place a motion picture first comes to fruition, however just in changing do all the little subtle elements and subtleties show up and the dead weight drops away.

"We completed 22 drafts of Super Troopers when we shot it," Chandrasekhar says. "When you appear on set, in the direct outcome imaginable, your content ought to be great to the point that if all you have sufficient energy to do is shoot it as may be, you're fine, and you're psyched. You can extemporize over that, however, you're not including upon the arrival of jokes to put you over the best. Judd Apatow and I have an alternate school of thought on this. He gets a kick out of the chance to make extremely convincing account stories and afterward have comics come in and ad lib to finish everything. Also, more of late he's been extemporizing, shooting the improv, reworking and afterward shooting another round of improv. We have dependably been a much lower planned kind of outfit thus we have rather composed, composed, composed, and when we have a content we adore, we simply extemporize several lines over it. In any Broken Lizard motion picture, I would state we're likely eight percent ad-libbed and no more."

GETTING TO THE LOWEST POINT IN A FUNNY WAY

One of the immense jokes in the Broken Lizard film Beerfest is when [SPOILER ALERT] one of the primary characters, Landfill, passes on, just to be quickly supplanted by a formerly said twin sibling, who likewise wishes to be tended to as 'Landfill.' The substitution is dealt with in such a senseless, yet mindful route as to off-set the pity of seeing a principle character pass on in the motion picture you're viewing.