#curse my ability to get attached to characters in five seconds

[t3a-gh0st]

Just listened to the elementals oneshot.

Hey bizly what. Hey what. What was that.

[fangirlyah]

✦kind queen of narnia - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a new prophecy for the narnia’s kingdom. a new member joining the kings and queens. but...who is it? 

warnings: cursing

word count: 3,597

a/n: mi first edmund one shot, i’m so happy! 

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

narnia, what a place. 

anyone from england would look at y/n and the pevensie brothers in horror if they were told about this beautiful world full of fairytale creatures and landscapes. 

they would probably be frightened if they were told that all narnians were preparing to face the telmarines; it would be their second battle in defence of their beloved lands. 

they would also worry if they were told that there were prophecies dictating the fate of the teenagers. 

the pevensies had been in narnia for a long time. they had grown up and reached adulthood there while time in england had barely passed. their first visit to the dream place had been when edmund was just ten years old and as the prophecy dictated he had betrayed his brother and sisters and then recomposed himself to follow the right path as a faithful ruler of narnia and become king edmund, the just. 

when edmund was twenty years old in the narnian world, a gryphon passed over him and dropped a neatly rolled papyrus. 

when his time on this earth comes to an end

a damsel with the purity of water and the sweetness of honey will get her start 

if you listen well, attachment will flourish 

if you listen badly, there will be pain 

she is made to avoid pain in all

she is made to bring back peace 

that doesn't even rhyme, he thought, and it doesn't make sense either. 

even though the prophecy that had just arrived at his whereabouts was revealed to his brother and sisters, none of them understood, what girl was it talking about? 

everything took on colour, when a thin figure collapsed against lucy at the train station. 

"oh no! i'm so sorry, sweetheart" a girl of about sixteen years of age, apologized sincerely to the little girl who had been moved abruptly by the teenage girl's body. "i thought i was missing my train and i got terribly scared" the y/h/c outlined a sweet smile.

"there is no reason to apologise, we all make mistakes...my name is lucy and these are my brothers and my sister" the little girl stretched out her hand to shake it with y/n’s, while the other pointed behind her to three teenagers in uniform. 

a pretty girl with striking eyes introduced herself as susan, while another slim blond boy said his name was peter. the third was immersed in his search for the train's arrival time, so he did not notice the conversation in front of him, the signs on the station walls  seemed to be more interesting. "he is edmund...sorry he is half a fool" as he heard his name, the raven-haired boy looked up to meet a beautiful and delicate girl laughing at the comment his sister had made. 

"my name is y/n, it is a pleasure to meet you" her gaze travelled through each member of the family leaving them with a smile; when it was edmund's turn her smile did not come down even though the one he showed her was hasty and if she had not been paying attention she would have missed it. 

"where were you about to leave in such a hurry?" peter asked as the five of them move away due to some guards passing at full speed by their side, being all cornered against the wall the best decision they made was to take a seat, side by side, on a bench. 

"my parents live in the countryside of england, and because of my school I haven't seen them for a long time so I didn't want to miss my train" y/n explained feeling the look of all the them. 

"we were on our way there too! we must visit professor kirke, we haven't seen him for a long time" 

that was their first meeting, the first meeting of many. y/n and the pevensies developed the closest and most faithful friendship in the world. they spent all their holidays enjoying the countryside together and when school resumed, they took several trains and walked several blocks just to see each other almost every week. 

and although their meetings were frequent edmund did not always seem pleased by her presence. the months passed and although y/n began to develop a crush on the freckle boy he seemed to ignore her every move. even when she bought his favourite sweets to share with everyone or when she would sneak a compliment on his attire on some special occasion. y/n was good at hiding her feelings so only susan knew and she hoped it would stay that way. 

it was not until the five of them were waiting for their train to leave for their respective boarding school that the action began. 

the train they were to board disappeared and with it the whole station around them, leaving lucy, peter, edmund, susan and y/n standing on a paradise beach. 

the brothers began to walk towards the white sand, leaving the cave where they had landed, followed by a shocked y/n 

"where are we?” when lucy heard y/n's voice she looked at her sister with a smile and then started to run, getting rid of their school uniforms. 

"come on, y/n!" peter shouted as he dipped his feet into the clear water.  

she did not resist and followed her friends, leaving a few clothes to play in the water. 

edmund saw her laughing, with her wet hair, in the sun and remembered how in love he was with the girl he ignored so much. 

"what is it?" asked peter as he saw his brother stop having fun; edmund couldn't admit that the sight of y/n had knocked him out so he had to improvise.

"where do you suppose that we are? 

"it's pretty obvious, isn't it? we are in narnia” by this time, the girls had stopped their water fight and were paying attention to the boys. 

"well...i don't remember any ruins in narnia”

"narnia?! you must be joking?!" y/n exclaimed. 

"yes, narnia" peter said, looking at her as if nothing was happening. 

"but...narnia...the narnia you told me as a story from when you were children?"

"they are not stories..."

with that, the brothers began to tour the meadows where, 1300 years ago, cair paravel was located. where now only ruins remained of what had been their home. 

the surprise of y/n was not erased and even less so when they found the prophecy that dictated their destiny. 

"edmund! this was the prophecy that appeared to you” susan was right but edmund did not want y/n to know that for some magical reason the prophecy had come to HIS hands. 

"what? a prophecy about me?" y/n posed her body next to peter who had the paper in his hands. 

"no one enters narnia without a purpose" the little pevensie sister explained.

"there is no way i can be this girl! i have no talent, i am not so-" 

peter interrupted her by placing his hands on the girl's thin shoulders. 

"you may think so, but narnia and its magic is more powerful than ourselves and our supposed abilities" 

edmund had to swallow hard not to go and take the girl from his brother's arms. he had no right to take her away. edmund did not know how to approach her so their contact was minimal, to the misfortune of both of them. 

those days continued peacefully and then chaos erupted throughout the kingdom. 

aslan disappeared and newcomer caspian caused maximum tension. 

although the pevensie, caspian, and trumpkin had taken it upon themselves to make her aware of what was going on around her, she was still afraid. she had many people trusting her actions and that they would return the peace. 

she had always been a leader and narnia was no exception. y/n was equal to peter and caspian in decision making as she was cunning and quick in making decisions but when it came to attacking came her weakness. there was no feeling inside her body that would leave her conscience clear if she killed or injured any human or creature. 

although edmund kept his countenance neutral when it came to her, his heart melted whenever she mentioned her lack of courage to hold a weapon and go on the attack. 

"y/n, you coming?" caspian turned on his axis before leaving for the battle on the castle of miraz. 

"i can help with maps, plans and strategies but with this...i can't, sorry”  

edmund had heard several creatures criticize the girl's lack of courage to confront a hand-to-hand fight; and he could not help but think that he maybe was disappointed by her attitude too.

"why is she here if she can't even pick up a weapon, of any kind, without shaking?" the freckled boy would adjust his armor before going into battle. 

"don't be mean, edmund. she is too good to go out and kill someone" his older sister tried to talk some sense into him, especially because before edmund entered the room where susan was, y/n had retired just a few seconds before but susan knew that she was not far enough not to hear their conversation; and hear the boy who she liked talk so badly about her would not be a nice moment.

"or she's too much of a coward" was a fact, y/n was listening to the whole conversation, as she felt her heart breaking.  

"if she bothers you so much that she doesn't fight, show her. you are the best at using the sword in combat in all of narnia" 

"I won't" at the end of the day he wasn't so brave after all. 

now it was y/n who ignored him. whether in meetings or in their free time, she did not even give him a glance and he noticed. because edmund was very attentive to what she was doing or not doing, so it was not difficult for him to see her practicing with prince caspian her fighting, on the beach, more than one afternoon while he went for his walks.

it hurt him but he knew that her distancing was his fault.  

caspian did not question the reason for the girl's drastic change, he only offered to help her and she accepted. 

they spent hours covered in sweat and sand but she did not seem to mind, she wanted to prove a point to edmund and herself. her days were divided into training, alone or with others, and creating plans and strategies. her rest was almost non-existent and her tired figure was beginning to show. her breakfasts were short and quick like any other meal of the day. she ate with her head down and conversed with anyone but edmund. 

one cool night edmund tried to sleep in his large room but the sound of a sword moving and colliding with a shield prevented him from doing so. from the high window it was impossible for him to decipher where it came from but he assumed that it meant no danger as none of the guards seemed alert; but he still descended in search of the owner of the sound. 

when he entered the courtyard below his room he saw her. covered in sweat and with her sword in her hand as she moved abruptly against an armament tied to a tree. edmund found y/n’s invention very ingenious and was even more surprised to see her move almost perfectly, it seemed almost natural to her.  

"what are you doing here at this hour?" after minutes of watching her from a few meters away, the younger pevensie brother approached. 

"I could ask you the same thing" y/n did not even move her eyes, she just approached the tree to accommodate the armor tied with leather. 

"I was trying to sleep but an unbearable noise woke me up, Ijust wanted to know who was causing it...now I know" 

“I didn't know it was so annoying" edmund still couldn't see her face.'' I'll stop now..." 

gently, despite being preparing to go out and kill men and creatures, she put her sword in its compartment hanging from her hip, and then dried her face with a wet piece of cloth.

"why are you doing this anyway?" 

"some people don't believe me strong enough to fulfill the prophecy...they think I'm a coward" y/n looked into his eyes for the first time and edmund understood what she meant. 

"you should stop. you look exhausted, besides I didn't-" 

"keep it to yourself..." already when she had passed the freckle boy's body petrified in the garden, y/n continue "and it seems that it is never enough, so yes. if I need to keep practicing"  

edmund knew that she was absolutely right. before she started her daily combat lessons, she gave everything she had from what she could. she had taken risks and was adapting to being the future queen of a place, which until a while ago, was completely unknown for her. 

y/n would not admit it but that night she cried like never before. she did not know exactly if it was tiredness, confusion, sadness or that she was heartbroken. but whatever the right choice was, that night she fainted in a tearful dream without managing to take off her sweaty clothes. 

the next morning she appeared at breakfast as if nothing had happened. clean and unpolluted in a freshly washed and ironed dress that accentuated every attribute she had. lucy had heard her crying and was dying to ask what was so terrifying that made her cry like that, but seeing her serious countenance when y/n saw her brother sitting at the table, despite her young age, lucy easily put it together. 

after preventing jadis, the white witch, return to narnia. caspian and his allies had no choice but to confront the troops of miraz in front of the altozano. meanwhile, lucy and susan were leaving in search of aslan. y/n did not go with them. she remained at the site of the battle.

when everyone was out ready to fight, so was she. edmund had seen her keep medical supplies anywhere in the armour she found space with the intention of helping any wounded being she might encounter. he felt extremely guilty; she did not want to be there and should not have been. she could have quietly stayed in the shelter ready to help anyone who came looking for a hand but he had pressed her with words he did not even feel. 

to gain time the camp became a personal battle between peter and miraz. both begin to fight to the death. both armies gathered around the stone platform where the two men were fighting hand to hand. edmund looked at y/n who was standing next to a centaur with her perfectly placed weaponry; her serious countenance hid any doubt or fear that her brain was processing. 

although the elder pevensie managed to have a dying miraz in front of him, peter did not kill him.

"you are too much of a coward to take a life, king peter?" miraz, despite being on his knees almost dead, kept on fighting.

"it's not mine to take" 

with that said, the blond man stepped back to give the sword to y/n; who looked at them perplexed. she understood that she must do so to fulfill the prophecy. she had all eyes on her and her trembling hands that took the sword and stood before the wounded man. 

edmund saw tears welling up in her beautiful eyes as she looked down at miraz. y/n placed the tip of the sword on the man's neck with her chest rising and falling violently. 

the freckled boy wanted to run towards her to hug and kiss all her nerves and fears away but he couldn't. 

as the seconds passed and the girl did not move from her place, a laugh was heard in the telmarine’s army and that was the limit.

edmund gently approached the girl and placed his hands on top of the sword taking it out of her hands 

"let go, it's okay" he whispered as, with the help of his hands, he pushed her back to where she was before. 

by that point the tears had already come out of her eyes and at that moment she felt like a real coward. she felt the disappointed looks despite her head being down and the tall stature of edmund in front of her limiting her view. 

"stupid girl, this is not the girl of the prophecy! she is just an idio-" 

when edmund wanted to turn around and finish the work that peter had started, an arrow pierced miraz’s chest and chaos began. 

despite her blurred vision, y/n remained on the battlefield. she had escaped from edmund's side when the war cries were first heard. 

although she did not use her sword she was fast enough to escape the attacks and manage to help those wounded in the meadows. 

the two armies were facing each other in battle and when the narnians were about to lose, lucy found aslan. the lion awakened the narnian trees, allowing them to come to the aid of the narnian army. 

amidst the screams and sounds of colliding swords, aslan called out to the water god, who drowns much of the telmarine army. 

and the war is over.

in the midst of the destruction, everyone begins to celebrate with smiles on their faces despite the large number of narnians lost in battle, there was cause for celebration. 

the pevensies had met aslan and on the seashore, they were enjoying a good chat. 

"where is y/n y/l?" asked aslan curiously "she fulfilled the prophecy perfectly" 

"but she was not who killed miraz, it was caspian who had to see the kingdom free" trumpkin seemed upset and the desire to kick his little figure flourished in edmund. 

"you don't need to kill someone to restore peace and help your people" 

with that said, edmund began to look for her with his eyes...and found her. sitting on a stone, passing a natural ointment on a faun’s arm. 

at that moment the boy understood that y/n should not learn to fight and use weapons to save narnia. with her kindness, intelligence and healing skills it was more than enough. he wanted to tell her. he wanted to tell her what an idiot he had been in wanting to force her to do something she was not even meant to do. 

without saying a word edmund ran off in her direction. 

when y/n saw him quickly approaching her, she stood up from her place and watched him as he arrived and took her arm to walk into the forest. 

"I know what you are going to say and I am sorry..." as soon as the boy slowed down his pace the two faced each other in the middle of the forest lighted by rays of sunshine piercing the tree leaves. they were less than a metre away and yet edmund wanted to be even closer "I know you are disappointed in me, I know you all are... but i could not, ok?! I just could not! I cannot be queen of narnia with this attitude, I did not make it. I did not fulfill the prophecy and now-" 

edmund took his face with both hands and brought it close to him, silencing her hasty and nervous speech; in less than a second both were immersed in a deep kiss that y/n took a few seconds to reciprocate due to her surprise. her hands travelled to his chest covered by the narnian battle uniform as his hands caress her cheeks softly.

the kiss was quick but sweet, as if they were frustrated romantics who had not been able to kiss each other for centuries. 

when the kiss broke both chests went up and down as if they had finished running a marathon, but despite this they could not let go. now edmund's arms were wrapped around her and her arms caressed his neck as they looked at each other. 

"you saved narnia without the need to kill anyone, you earned narnia without using force if not kindness" 

"you're not disappointed?" a slight surprise occupied the boy’s body. 

"all your training and you coming out to fight today, was because of me?" 

"I just...just wanted to be enough for you" y/n was sincere, there was no need to lie. 

"the conversation you heard between susan and me was a mistake, I would never be disappointed in you and you are far, far away from being a coward and you proved that from the minute you set foot in this kingdom" 

she rested her forehead on his as a response. 

"I am so in love with you" he sighed realizing the chill that ran through the girl's body. 

"today is your lucky day king edmund, because i am more in love with you" a small laugh broke out from both of them. 

"impossible" 

with that said, they both joined in another kiss. this time a slow one. they had all the time in the world.

after all they were king and queen of narnia, no one could rush them.

[motherofwoofers]

A Very Verfound Christmas

This is my gift to @verfound for the LBSC Secret Santa 2020 -Extravaganza! This it a Teen rated fic for some implied thoughts, and the ability to keep up with vague clues! 

---

Here’s the thing-

When he’d woken up this morning, he had every intention of celebrating a short work day and another successful year of endless toy making. After all, it was Christmas Eve. Work. Watch the sleigh launch. Rock out in one of the Jingle Halls. Join the rest of the elves in bringing in the Christmas Dawn. Then sleep the entirety of Christmas Day.

As he had the last seventy odd years.

But as of five seconds ago, he was pretty sure he didn’t even remember his own name, let alone what he was doing later tonight, or even what he needed help with-

“What?” Luka blinked rapidly, before clearing his voice. Bright blue eyes blinked back.

“Do you need help with those?” Liquid sugar rolled off her tongue, he was certain of it. There was no other feasible way for her voice to be so sweet and melodic. Liquid sugar from pink glossed lips.

Those?

It took him a moment before his mind snapped back into action. Those.

Those were a pallet of last minute dolls that had been assembled and programmed incorrectly. Which, in reality wasn’t even in his department of toy making. They were his green haired absentee best friend’s. A certain friend who had slapped his ass, clocked off early, and dashed, leaving him to try to figure out how to get an entire pallet of singing ice queen dolls fixed, wrapped, and loaded onto the sleigh before launch.

Except, he really didn’t mind all of a sudden.

“I’m, uh, looking to drop these off with the doll repair department. Except I don’t even remotely know where that is,” he tried to drop his best grin at the end, and bit back a goofy grin when her face lit up red.

“Oh,” bright blue eyes blinked again, “this is the art department.” He watched as a small frown turned down her sweet lips, a furrow forming between her soft dark brows. His heart pounded in his chest painfully as a full pout took over the elf’s face. Then just as quickly, her face was lighting up, eyes wide. “Hold on one second! Stay right there! I think I can help.” The raven haired girl disappeared behind the door he had just knocked on, door shutting with a loud click in his face before his attention was drawn to the loud whirring around the corner.

Pulling the pallet of dolls along, he followed the sound to see a large bay door opening, as well as a sight he’d never let his mind forget.

Back lit by the shop lights behind her, the elf stood before him, hands triumphantly placed on her hips as she grinned at him. Curvy. Petite. And dressed in something he was pretty sure wasn’t the usual uniform. Because if it was, he was switching departments immediately.

Red and white striped stockings ran the length of her legs, a hint of creamy skin revealed where garters kept them in place, before disappearing beneath a red tutu flared out just enough to test the boundaries of cute and oh. A black vest trimmed in glitter wrapped her frame like a second skin, dipping dangerously low in the front. A view he knew would become increasingly distracting the closer he stood to her. He could just make out the twin coat tails attached in the back to round out her look.

Oh, sweet candy canes.

A sculpted arm waved him forward, “Come on in. I’m Marinette by the way.”

He was fairly certain he’d left his jaw on the floor, a good meter behind him, when he tried to respond, “Luka. Luka Couffaine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Luka Couffaine,” she giggled, leading him further into the shop. Smooth, Couffaine.

Most of the machines and monitor screens were quiet, though some of the holo displays still had their most recent projects lit up and rotating. Lights were slowly kicking back on as they moved towards what looked like a small carpeted studio area, sectioned off from the immense space with a curved control panel. Then there was the color. It was everywhere, on everything. The control panel itself looked as if someone had gone crazy with spray paint and glitter glue. An extreme contrast to his department, where most of the spaces were walled off and smaller, but cozy and themed.

Two different ways to keep inspiration high.

“Go ahead and bring them over here so I can see what we’re dealing with,” Marinette pointed towards an empty space near a work table. As he powered the hover units down on the hand truck, effectively parking the dolls, he became aware of one very specific thing:

The Couffaines definitely had a pixie kink.

Marinette stepped out of heels he hadn't even been aware she was wearing, until she went from chin height to his chest.

And just as she had dropped in height, so did his eyes. Beaming blue eyes, determined pink lips, and --ffff the swell of her chest, emphasized by the matching red bra he could just barely see peeking from beneath. Being tall was both a blessing and a curse. When it came to which one it was right now, he was fairly certain his name was dropping rapidly from the Nice List.

Tearing his eyes away, Luka shifted his attention back to the original problem at hand.

“The doll is dressed in her sister’s attire, and to top it off the music department loaded it with the wrong song. This is the first movie’s song, and not the recent release.” He lifted the platinum haired doll, easily sliding her from the plastic twists they’d been forced to switch too. A small hand reached out to take the doll from his hand, before it was meticulously examining the fabrics. He would’ve expected the petite elf’s hands to be soft and smooth, but they were nearly as strong and callused as his own.

“I think we can fix this. How long do we have before launch?” She swivelled away quickly, setting a few things into motion as she took control. A holoscreen popped up from the control panel, before she flicked it up into the air to hover a few meters off the ground. The countdown to launch was displayed in bright red numbers. “Oh good, we’ve got five minutes until launch. Plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time?” He questioned, a bit disbelieving. Granted, it was a decent amount of time, but how in the world were they going to get it done. “I don’t know anything about dolls. I work in sound effects.”

“They essentially just need their outfits updated, which I can do. And the correct song recorded over their music chip, which you can do.” She was already pulling the dolls free from their boxes, while simultaneously preparing the work space before her.

“Amazing,” he breathed to himself. “I don’t know how to record songs onto these, though.”

“Don’t worry! We used to fix stuff all the time in my old department. You know those toys where the voice doesn’t sound like the actual character? That’s because it’s an elf,” she whispered, even though it was just the two of them. “They’ve got a small recording studio in here, we just need to get the right song track set up and you’ll sing over it. And don’t worry, the program will alter your voice, no talent needed!”

She made it all seem so simple.

He stood there for a moment watching her move about, removing clothes from the dolls, sourcing different fabrics, and selecting different re-hue pens.

All he had planned on doing was dropping them off, and now here he was, fixing them.

But there was definitely nowhere else he’d rather be than where he was right now.

Wandering over to the recording studio on the other side of the control panel, he flicked through a few of the screens that hummed to life, but found it hard to keep his eyes from drifting.

“Your outfit is pretty cute. Were you going to one of the parties or a date?” He watched out of the corner of his eye to avoid facing her directly. But he wished he had when he saw the beautiful rosy color from earlier spread across her cheeks and bloom all the way to the tips of her elegantly pointed ears. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of your plans.”

A tiny squeaked, “Thank you,” came long before the rest of her response. “No date. A celebration actually. I don’t normally dress sooo…..” she waved her hands at her body.

“Oh?” The audio track he needed began to play loudly in the speakers around him, blaring out high notes neither of them were prepared for. Marinette nearly fell from the stool she’d placed herself on, naked doll and hue-pens flying, as he scrambled to turn it down. “Sorry!”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” Her hands were waving him off as she went in search of her things, dropping onto her hands and knees. He could see her crawling around underneath the control panel, skirt bobbing dangerously. Pale skin flashed, and the bare curve of her rear came into view for a moment’s breath, before her skirt dipped to cover her once more.

“I’m definitely on the naughty list,” he muttered. Taking a moment to himself, Luka closed his eyes and dropped into the swivel chair behind him, swivelling slowly. Think about something else. Anything else.

“Are you kidding me? After we fix this fiasco right before launch, we are going on the Nice list for sure. I would know!” Luka stopped spinning to find Marinette settled on her stool and working on the dolls once more.

“There’s no way you’ve ever been on the Naughty List.”

Mischievous blue eyes looked over at him, sending his heart fluttering once more, before she grinned. “I’ve been on the Naughty List.”

He sat up in his seat, intrigue pulling him to full attention. With an impatient flick of his wrist, the screen between them flew off to the right, taking the lyrics with it.

“Do tell.”

“Wellll, I got in trouble for a little breaking and entering and theft of personal property,” he watched her lips roll between her teeth as she tried to keep up her nonchalant facade. He blinked, surprised none the less.

“Hardcore,” he grinned, thoroughly satisfied when her face flamed up again.

“I didn’t keep it!” She squeaked out and he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of his chest.

“I believe you,” he winked. Her blush deepened, and she swivelled away to hide the way she bit into her lip. Damn did that feel good.

Pulling the lyrics back in front of him, he set about analyzing the song and tune, easily working silently in the space with her. He took a quick glance at the countdown, and breathed a sigh of relief when it read five minutes ‘til launch still.

Positioning the microphone in front of his face, he lost himself in the song. Testing out his ability to reach with his vocals, muscles he didn’t get the chance to use as frequently as his other band members.

“Wow.”

Luka looked up to find Marinette only a few paces away, clutching a full arms worth of redesigned dolls. The amazement on her face, brought blood rushing to his own cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and poured more focus than necessary into saving the music file.

“You’re beautiful-- I-- I mean your voice is beautiful! I didn’t know you could actually sing,” she was setting the dolls down and moving closer, the smell of sweet baked goods surrounding her and intoxicating his senses.

“Well, these dolls look like they should be on collector’s shelves.” He lifted one of the ice queens up, marvelling at Marinette’s ability to not only change the entire outfit but make it better than the original. He followed her lead as she sent the dolls through a reprogramming shoot, catching them at the end to repackage them. “You didn’t learn those skills from the mass production team.”

The smile on her face caught his attention. The way it lifted her cheeks, set light to her eyes. She pulled the doll from his fingers, and he realized he’d been staring.

“No. I actually learned on my own. It’s a hobby of mine- making clothes. So doing it in miniature wasn’t too hard.” The machines around him were shutting down as he realized she had already finished packing everything away. Not to be the worst helper around, he carried most of the boxes back to the pallet. “Your voice. It really is amazing, you know.” She turned to him brightly as he powered the hover units back on, and the hand truck lifted from the ground. “You remind me of one of my favorite performers! Jolly Stone!”

“I love Jolly Stone! I’m actually in a band, we’re performing later tonight. If you’d like, you could come watch us perform. We’re not famous or anything. Just my sister and two of our friends.”

“Oh. That sounds fun, but I’ve got my party right after this! Which actually-” she glanced at the countdown- ”I’m late for! It’s five minutes ‘til launch!” He watched her devolve into panic, frantically searching for her things. She looped a scarf around her neck, slipping her arms into a long coat that fell past her skirt. Standing on one leg, she attempted to put her heels on, before tipping forward. With speed he wasn’t aware he’d possessed, he leapt forward catching her in his arms before she could take a spill onto the floor.

Sugar plum fairies were going to be dancing in his dreams tonight.

Delectably sweet smelling, and tantalizingly light in his arms. He found himself molding her small frame to his body as he lifted her to her feet. Those bright blues caught him again, and parted lips begged for him to lean in. Painfully he let his hands drift away from her body once he was sure she was steady, and immediately he wished he hadn’t.

Her next attempt was far more successful, and even still he offered his arm to her as they left the art department. When her hand slipped around his elbow to secure herself, he let the smile show on his face. Then let the grin take over, when Marinette dipped her face down, blush rising up her ear tips.

“I don’t wear heels often. I’m a total klutz, I should’ve known better.” He frowned at her self admonishment, but kept any comments to himself. “I just thought they went so well with my outfit. Plus I wanted to look cute for my party.”

“Right, this party. You said it was a celebration and you’re late?”

“Oh, yes! My old coworkers and friends are throwing me a party for my promotion. I’m actually from district South 12th. I was, um, going through some things. Naughty List and all,” an embarrassed giggle slipped free, but she continued on. “So, when I saw a management position pop up in South 10th’s Art Department, I applied for it. Today was my first day.”

“First of all, congratulations on the promotion. Second, I’m sorry to hear you were going through some things, but I’m not sorry that it led you here. Otherwise I’m not sure I would’ve met you.” He gave her a small bump with his arm, but made sure to keep a tight grip on her hand just in case.

“Me too.” And when he glanced down she was smiling brightly to herself.

“So after we drop these off at Wrappings, I could walk you to your party if you’d like? I have to meet my sister in South 12th anyways.”

“Does your sister work in South 12th?”

“Yeah, she’s in the music department though. Not art, so not sure you’d know her.” As they came around the corner, they found themselves in line with the other last minute toy deliverers.

“I actually have friends in music!” Luka watched as her face scrunched up in thought, nose wiggling adorably. “Hmmm, Couffaine.... Wait a second!” She turned to him, eyes searching his face, furrow finding her brows. “Juleka’s last name used to be Couffaine. Are you related to her?”

And this was the moment when Luka realized that the whole Christmas-Magic-works-in-mysterious-ways thing his mother always claimed, was in fact, real.

“That’s my sister,” he chuckled, watching the excited surprise on her face.

“She never mentioned having a hot brother!” The loud gasp, before she slapped a pale hand over her mouth made him laugh harder. “I mean… she never mentioned having a brother,” she sputtered.

“Of course she wouldn’t. I’m lame in her book.” Externally he was playing it cool, but internally he was pretty sure his insides were about ready to burst. The most amazingly adorable and badass elf he had ever met thought he was hot.

A Wrappings coordinator waved them towards a platform to leave their pallet on, and Luka took the opportunity to calm his excitement, so that he didn’t look like a giddy cherub when he sauntered back to her side.

“You know, Jueka was going to my party. And I’m not sure if you had any other plans, but if you have time before your performance… you could come celebrate with us. It’s not just a coworkers thing. But if you don’t want to or don’t have time, I totally understand. It is last second after all, and you barely know me-”

“Marinette.” Her lips clamped closed suddenly, and those eyes he was beginning to truly lose himself too, watched him.

“I would love to go to your party with you. My performance isn’t until right before the Christmas Dawn. I’ve got all night.” He slid his hands into his pockets, to keep them from reaching out to hold her again. The expressions crossing her face were a mixture of excitement and worry, but he kept his thoughts and limbs to himself while she worked out whatever was on her mind.

“Do.. do you have a date for Christmas Dawn?” So quiet, hesitant.

“Not unless my Ma counts,” he winked, heart beginning to pound again.

“Would you like to be mine?” YES. “I- I mean my date?” That too.

“I would love to be yours, Marinette- your date.” Pulling his hand free from his pocket, he offered it to her. She slipped her small hand into his without hesitation, smile setting her face aglow.

“Shall we?”

[colourful-void]

Amity is the Weakest Witch; A theory on magic ability

I was rewatching some episode of the owl house, and I had a thought.

I’ve seen people talk about how powerful Willow is and how much we see her do once she gets moved to the plant coven track. And thats 100% true, Willow is fantastic, but as I kept watching, I noticed, so was Gus. He’s just as impressive as Willow, if not more than. Which made Amity look pretty weak by comparison. That got me thinking, which lead to this theory.

I think that Amity is weaker than the other main kids, and possibly ever other Witch we’ve seen at Hexside, based solely on innate magical ability.

In this post I’ll go over examples of Amity being weaker, what being weaker really means, why that may be, and what this could mean for the story in terms of plot and parallels! 

This one’s gonna be long so under the cut it goes. (tldr at the end!)

First off, let’s talk about Magical Ability.

As Eda explains, all witches have a sack of bile attached to their heart which lets them do magic. My assumption is that by having a larger sack of bile, a witch would have ‘more magic’ than someone with a small sack.

In comparison, let’s say it’s musical talent. If someone is born with perfect pitch and good rhythm, and other things like that, then you can assume they’d be better at music then someone who doesn’t have perfect pitch, and whose rhythm is a bit off. However, if someone trains and works hard for a long time they could become better at music than the person who was born with talent, based on merit of technical skill and dedication.

It’s a common concept, that hard work and dedication are more valuable than talent people are born with.

In the world of the owl house, I believe magic works the same way!

So what’s my proof that Amity is any less magical than the others? She is top student, after all (then again, post that episode the badge literally never comes up again, but for the sake of argument, let’s say she’s still top student)

Let’s compare some magic, according to what each character has done in their respective tracks!

Starting with Gus, some of the most impressive magic he’s done!

- Created an illusion with free will   - Created three unique illusions of him and his friends - Created fifteen illusions of himself while running

That can’t be easy, Gus is really impressive with his magic!

Willow too, is very impressive! Despite being a late bloomer and being teased, she’s done a lot of great magic.

- Creating vines that took over the entire school - Making plants that look like people - and a bunch of other examples (especially in Wing it Like Witches, not to mention all of Hooty’s Moving Hassle)

Willow is really powerful, but powerful at plant magic. She can’t do abominations well at all. Keep that in mind as I move on to Amity.

Compared to what we’ve seen Gus and Willow do, Amity is kind of... underwhelming.

Amity’s top accomplishments include:

- Making an abomination that can follow instructions (twirling, carrying her, high fives) - That but bigger. - thats pretty much it.

While Abominations have their uses, in general they aren’t that impressive, or versatile. While it’s hard to compare different magic, when directly pitted against  each other, Gus and Willow have more going for them.

If Gus, Willow, and Amity all got into a fight, Willow would probably win. In episode 3, Willow and Amity do ‘fight’ with Amity’s abominations (around 3-5 iirc) against Willows vines (huge, wrapping around the entire school, able to move and carry people independently of the other vines) and it’s clear who the victor is. 

While it’s less clear who would win in a fight between Gus and Amity, (Gus’s illusions don’t seem to be tangible, meaning that a fight depends more on the circumstances (planning, trickery, etc) than pure magic.

When comparing Amity and Gus’s magic, the similarities are easy to see. They both create humanoids (however Amity is limited to only monsters while Gus can make projections and objects) that can fulfil tasks. However when we compare their differences, I think Gus comes out on top.

Gus’s Illusions: - free will and thought - can create several unique illusions at once - can form words, witches and humans, and more - can be defeated by being touched

Amity’s abominations: - follow instructions  - can create a few at once - all look the same - can only create monsters - stronger than illusions

While abominations are better weapons, I’d say that illusions are more technical and creative, and have more effort in them.

So compared to the other witch kids, Amity is the weakest in terms of pure magic ability.

Now you might be saying ‘hey that’s not fair! Amity can do more than just abominations’ and you’re right! But there’s a few things to note.

a) we see amity using a training wand to create fire spells, and we can assume this isnt something new she just got. why would she get a wand to learn something new she wasn’t going to need. by need I mean,

b) witches are locked into a single coven, so they can only perform one type of magic. since amity is in the abomination track, unless she manages to get into the emperors coven (which considering current episodes, seems like a scam and impossible) she will eventually be sticking doing only abomination magic.

so the earlier point still stands, at least for the sake of argument.

Sub topic: what does it mean to be weak?

In the context, Amity seems to have less powerful magic then the other witch kids. Despite that, she’s a hard worker (hence being top student) and trains her magic ability to be better than the other students. When I refer to amity as weak, I mean that I believe she was born with less magic than the other students, and is working overtime to become more powerful.

I also have a theory that amity’s brown hair is tied into her having less magic, hence the dying of it and the symbolism in her drawings.

For those who don’t know, in every drawing Amity’s done of herself, her roots aren’t showing. If the green is symbolism of magic abilty (since the colour is associated with Azura, who can be seen as representing magic) then it’s telling that Amity’s ideal versions of herself include being naturally green haired, or in symbolism terms, naturally talented with magic.

moving on the the next part of this analysis: why is amity weak?

My guess is that Amity was just born with less magic. Maybe a smaller bile sack, or something like that. There’s also a possibly that Amity was cursed when she was really young (like sleeping beauty, just been born and got cursed young) by someone, further adding to the parallels between her and Eda.

I’d love to hear other people’s theories as to why Amity isn’t as magical as other characters, since theres a lot of reasons it could be.

How Does Amity Being Weak Affect the Story?

a few reasons!

first off, if Amity has less innate magic then the other witches, than Luz has no innate magic, which further gives the characters something in common and pulls them together

second, if amity’s parents care so much about their reputations as Blight’s then having a ‘weak’ child would be disgraceful, hence why Amity is seemingly pushed harder than her slacker siblings. 

third, it explains a lot of amity’s behaviour. When amity and Luz make up in covention, Luz wins amity over by explaining that she’s working hard to be a witch. for someone that’s worked her entire life to get where she is, that would be the first time that Amity truly understood Luz, for a moment. it also lends a lot more weight to her line ‘Humans have no magical abilty, but I doubt that’ll stop you’

So what’s the point? (tldr)

Amity is likely weaker than the other witches for some reason, either by being cursed or born that why. Her magic is less impressive by comparison to Gus and Willow’s magic. This explains Amity’s commitment to hard work, and also brings her closer to Luz.

If you have any thoughts lemme know, this got a bit ramble and I have no clue if it even makes sense, but thank you for reading it all!

[inventors-fair]

Lessons Unlearned: Short Story Commentary and Reflection

Well. 21 entries isn’t exactly a 50+ commander extravaganza, but that’s where we’re at. This contest made a lot of sense to me, in my own head, and I think I got lost in the concept without considering the full execution, or that Other People Might Not Think Quite Exactly Like Me. 

Still, I would say that almost all the entries created their own unique worlds, some plane-based, some personal, and it made for great and creative reading. I feel that something more concrete would help a contest like this in the future, like... Well, I’ll have to save that for another time.

Onto the commentary!

@abzanhero — Captain Morgan the Vengeful

The Card: It’s interesting design space you’re playing with here, and I’m actually a fan. You could pump him up to a 2/2 for a little battlefield presence, but it’s not out of the question. The fact that there’s not consistent graveyard tutelage means that he’s not as overpowered as he could be, and it’s only one counter, which... Admittedly, it’s powerful, but there are a few moving parts to make this less than incredibly overpowered. I’d rather the trigger happen at the end step for that “final fate” feel, personally. Minor templating: “shuffle it into your library” (only planeswalkers get personal pronouns), and I think contemporary design supports “when you do” as a trigger to respond to instead of “if you do.” 

The Story: Ha, it rhymes! ... And yeah, it doesn’t precisely explain the ins and outs of the curse, but it’s swashbuckling as hell. It’s one degree off-kilter to have a rhyme that isn’t part of a meta-tale, but I like it, so. I can imagine younger players doing their best pirate voice as they shuffle him (the character, not the card, I know, pedantry) into their library. Arr.

@dimestoretajic — Eternal Bond

The Card: I had to go through the Zendikar image gallery to make sure, but yeah, “party members” isn’t a term. I believe this card would read “Exile two target creatures in a party. (reminder text)” And it would be “combined” toughness, right? Either way, this is a hyperspecific and expensive removal spell, at rare, with a modest amount of lifegain. That simply doesn’t feel good, and I’m not getting a feeling of a “bond” out of, well, a removal spell. Let’s move on.

The Story: So, a kind of love story, framed around a removal spell? That already doesn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t have anything positive to say about the writing itself, so for Magic critique, I’ll say that it doesn’t feel like a Magic card or part of a Magic world, absolutely not Zendikar. There’s a time and place for those kinds of cards, such as Cathartic Reunion and Planewide Celebration. But Magic doesn’t need single-card love stories, unless they’re remarkably well-written.

@fractured-infinity — Baddon, Rivstalt’s End

The Card: Okay, that IS a real town in Innistrad. Had to check that. Anyway, man, someone would love to make a commander out of this bad boy. Kinda eh that he doesn’t do anything specific on his own, but the death effect is cool as-is, I suppose. The only issue is that HOO BOY you are going to have a LOT of memory issues with all your Zombie tokens capital Z. It’s flavorful and I think it would be worth doing, but the second part... Nah, keep it simple. 3UB, no protection, just Zombies, and you’re golden.

The Story: I’m having a really hard time parsing your writing. It took a couple reads to understand that he’s talking about... Well, actually, I don’t know. What do emotional bonds have to do with taking the town, or damaging the bodies? How does that work? Do we get that anywhere else in the story? Hate to say it, but this little snippet doesn’t really make much sense in or out of context, without heavy inference about the world that we don’t really get.

@gollumni — Tempest Serpent

The Card: I love the idea of off-color emerge! Emerge was a fantastic mechanic and I feel that it could come back again. It creates some really neat draft ideas that unfortunately may bend a lot of the pie rules. But also. A three mana 3/3 flying hexproof? That’s OP at uncommon, no question, good lord. Small templating note: Flying comes before hexproof, and the second should be lowercase.

The Story: I can just see the art of a guy on a boat cowering as the ship snaps in half and a massive stormy elemental electric snake monster BLOWS UP outta the ocean ready to eat him. It’s cool how it’s not about the serpent itself, but rather the human/NPC interacting with the serpent. It’s not Hemingway, but you conveyed something great! I liked this story.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Gravedigger of the Order

The Card: I don’t get how all these parts come together. Pro zombies, sure, she’s a zombie caller. The blocking/blocked trigger, uh, I don’t see that coming up a lot considering that she’s only a 2/2 with no significant combat-oriented keywords. And the last ability implies a strong return mechanic that I’ll admit makes a lot of cool sense with your flavor but doesn’t translate to perfect gameplay. I don’t know, maybe I just don’t grok this card, but it feels like there was cohesion sacrificed in favor of flavor.

The Story: Well, this sure as heck ain’t Innistrad. I’m curious about where this would take place, and what kind of world you’re going for here. Let’s try looking at it from an isolated perspective. It’s an alright macabre story, so I’ll give you that. But the name. What is the “Order?” Is she part of it? Do all members of the order whisper to bones like her? I don’t understand her goals and motivations, what “kindness” she whispers, why the dead are coming back at all.

@ignorantturtlegaming — Demonic Mentor

The Card: It feels unplayable and yet extremely playable at the same time. It’s expensive and creates some really crazy shenanigans in Commander with surplus life. Oh my goodness, Oloro would LOVE this card, good GOD. It’s unfortunate that it does have to be costed this way and that it makes sense for a tutor. I believe the wording could be adjusted to one chunk of text: (using Covetous Urge and Thief of Sanity as references)

“Search target player’s library for up to X cards and exile them, then that player shuffles their library and you lose X life. You may cast those cards for as long as they remain exiled and you may spend mana as though it were mana of any color to cast those spells.”

The Story: I don’t get it. What does having  a demonic mentor have to do with brother rescue? I assume this is part of a larger story, but we don’t have that story for context, and mentorship doesn’t have to do with rescue. This is a card about tutelage and power and losing life, not losing a mind. The library is so often represented as the mind, and you’re not losing that, you’re saving part of it. Really iffy on this one, despite the coolness of the card. Also, watch out - you switched tenses in the second sentence. 

@macaroni-and-squeez — The Iroan Race

The Card: RRR for haste, sure, whatever, that’s fine in this day and age, if a little color-heavy. But this card isn’t meant for limited. This is a build-around-me if I ever saw one. “Four instances of haste”?? I don’t want to call that brilliant because it frustrates my sensibilities, but dammitall, it’s...it works. For those of you doubting me, the Zendikar Rising release notes for Attended Healer states “Multiple instances of lifelink on the same creature are redundant.” So, if that is to be believed, this card is designed for some combo player to go nuts with haste nonsense. Or maybe I’m just reading it wrong. Either way, I like this card. But I would make it win the game for you, not anyone else.

The Story: Sure, I’m into it. A guy running a race for Iroas checks out. I would have condensed it a little, but in general, yeah, it fits the world and makes a neat little story. I’m really hung up on the name “Kris.” That...doesn’t feel like a fantasy name as much. I mean, we have things like Gideon, and Judith, etc. but Kris? I can’t help but feel that it’s a smidge too out of touch with Theros worldbuilding. Yay, nitpicks.

@milkandraspberry — Burn Down the Library

The Card: Conceptually, this card is pretty cool. Very strange. It’s a different take on anti-blueness in red, and I can go for it. Sorry about MSE and fonts. Reinstallation is a pain but it’s possible. Anyway. I wouldn’t call this card a breakout all-star, but it would be...fun, I suppose. A good combat trick enchantment thing. Shame it doesn’t do much if you have an empty hand. With wording: Use “can’t” instead of “cannot cannot.” Use “cast blue spells” instead of “play;” that’s been phased out for a while. You also can’t discard spells, but you can discard blue CARDS. Question: what if you couldn’t cast blue spells from your hand? Eh? Eh? Flashback and madness? Ehhhhhh?

The Story: This time, I’ll give an example of how this could be shortened. “After years of fruitless study, the young scholar found a better use for her teacher’s wisdom.” Maybe “frustrated young scholar,” or something to give her motivation. Why is she burning down the library? That’s the most important question to ask. “Because she felt like it” is the obvious answer, but that’s not motivation, that’s not intrigue. We have to ask “why,” always. Your story makes sense, but it’s just on the brink of great characterization.

@nine-effing-hells — Arch-Evoker’s Capstone

The Card: I want to like it, and I probably do. I don’t know what kind of deck would play it, as it feels like a Commander card for sure, but yeah, I think I do like it. It’s got powerful stuff attached to it with very red sensibilities. The land destruction is pretty wild, but it’s expensive as hell. Or is it? Five mana to destroy two lands... That’s actually, hm. That’s actually really, really, super strong if this were to see any limited play. You may even have to make it XXRR to get around that if you want to keep that effect. Land destruction is unfun. (I <3 Ponza though, so)

The Story: With this specific card, I wouldn’t have recommended also adding three lines of flavor text on top of four paragraphs of rules text. Additionally, um, I don’t get that last line. “It wasn’t every day the horizon was on fire for a week straight”? It’s exerting too much effort without a strong effect on the reader. Edit and save for a card without as much rules text.

@partlycloudy-partlyfuckoff — Spiraling Depression

The Card: Buries? What opponent? Is this targeting? Is this an edict effect? Least power among creature they control, I assume? I legitimately don’t know what you’re trying to do with this card. Wretched Banquet-esque?

The Story: Instead of attempting to give this flavor text legitimate critique, I would instead advise you that referencing real-world conditions such as “spiraling depression” without a critical lens might appear as insensitive to individuals legitimately suffering from those conditions.

@reaperfromtheabyss — Blazing Sacrifice

The Card: I really love this card, actually. The choice to do CMC over power I would argue requires playtesting, and I would prefer power to compare to other cards in the family such as the lovely Fling, but I can see the argument against it. Yeah, not much to critique or add onto that front. You made a really great card mechanically.

The Story: And then the story lost me entirely. “monsters that would surely go on to destroy everything he loved” is clunky to say the least. “Surrounded by monsters” is fine, it’s decent, it gets the job done. Monsters are monsters, that’s that. But that last line. That’s...a D&D reference, right? I can’t take that seriously, I just can’t. It’s verging on cliche, and it makes sense on a rudimentary level but adds nothing to the Magic world. I’ll be the first to say that yes, it’s personal bias and that some players would appreciate the memetic qualities, but it simply doesn’t do it for me.

@scavenger98 — Walking Stick

The Card: It...is a stick. You know, I think I like this one, and frankly I would consider it for constructed play. I’m a Krenko guy, what can I say. But yeah, it’s fun, it’s fragile, it’s got good equip synergy, and I might actually be underestimating its power. I don’t know, is there some crazy combo that you could do with it? This stick is made for walking, not fighting. Heh. Good flavor tie.

The Story: And there it is, right? It’s kinda funny how it’s implied that the whole story about this thing is that this piece of equipment is breaking. And that’s kinda what makes me on the fence about it. Like, if you had a creature, and the text was about the creature dying, that wouldn’t make a lot of sense, right? Maybe if the text was about Bredik fearing the day when he WOULD face a sword? Eh, I’m just being picky here. I think that it’s still pretty good. I like Bredik. He’s not a fighter, but he walks very fast.

@tmstage — Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies

The Card: Yeah, once again, looking at Zendy Risey, I think the wording would be different than “full party.” I’ve been sitting here and I can’t come up with a better way to word it, but it still doesn’t mesh well even if it groks. And it’s a situational card that’s either going to do literally nothing or it’s going to destroy four creatures for one mana. That’s...not great. Hey. I understand if you don’t like a specific mechanic, but I’ve seen some really great ideas from your neck of the woods. Let’s keep going.

The Story: Technically, uh, this does not fit the criteria. Who was praying to the vengeful god? Was it the creatures in the other party? Is there a god of making rocks fall down? What’s up with the name, anyway? There’s a strong sense of disconnect and many questions that go unanswered. But considering all the factors that are going into this card, I have a feeling they aren’t really asking to be answered anyway.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path​ — Marathon of Mogis

The Card: Wow, I wasn’t expecting two Theros-themed God-themed enchantments that gave a number of creatures haste. Great minds and all. So, this card. I don’t think you need to reference the active player. The whole thing can be toned down a little. “At the beginning of each player’s combat (or end?) step, that player sacrifices all creatures they control that didn’t deal combat damage to a player this turn.” Keeping it simple. Honestly, though, I...am not sure I like it for four mana. It feels like a game-ender kind of card. Frankly, I would make it six. And I know that’s a lot and I know that it might be too much, but to be honest, this would be an unfun card otherwise, in my opinion. It’s really, REALLY powerful for a clock.

The story: Is that Mogis’ deal? Does he make people run? I checked the wiki and read through it all and I don’t understand why Mogis would get pleasure out of people not dying. The point of the stampedes and the destruction is to invoke slaughter and sacrifice, not to run humans to the bone. The ferocity of minotaurs is not sadistic. This feels like a Rakdos card — the cult, not the color combo. I feel that there was a misunderstanding.

@wolkemesser​ — Otherskin Scarecrow

The Card: I’ll go out on a limb and say that you could make this a little more Horizons-y and give this card Changeling instead of just saying it has all creature types. Could that make it a shapeshifter? Hm, what if, because it wears clothing from characters in the past, it also has the creature types of all creatures in graveyards? But I digress. Anyway, this card. It’s not bad! It’s not making me super excited, but it’s not bad. You meant for this to have a Reaper King vibe, right? Or at least to work well with it? I think you succeeded. 

The Story: Love the first sentence, don’t quite understand the second one. My interpretation is that it’s taking skin from others, right? Well! Um! That’s actually scary and makes me miss the world of Lorwynmoor even moor. Er, more. It’s unfortunate that the mechanics of the card don’t necessarily depict “skinning intruders alive and taking their identity in a grotesque fashion” as much as I’d personally like. Still, that’s a risk, and you know what, the implications aren’t super strong but it’s enough for me to grok.

Once again, thank y’all for your entries. New contest tomorrow. Be prepared. Be scared. Be....ard. 

-@abelzumi

[milkcartonbastard]

Buttercups and Geraniums

Fandoms- My Babysitter's a Vampire (Benny x Reader)

Warnings- Violence. Language warning. 

Request- "...could you write something for Benny Weir? Maybe something where they are rivals or something where both aren't really nice to each other and somehow get close and ends fluffy?" Why yes, I can. Thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!

~~~

  You were epically pissed at Benny Weir. You had been for months, but it had come to a climax recently and you were honestly beginning to loathe him. First, he'd managed to give you a foxtail. You didn't even know he had magic until then, you had believed you were the only witch at school. It was surprising that Benny Weir of all people was since you didn't understand how he'd managed to keep it a secret for so long. Second, one of his spells- yeah, there was going to be a reoccurring theme here- had managed to cause all of your hair to fall out. You had no fucking clue what he was trying to do in the first place, but you were sure that hair removal wasn't it.

  You'd been hit by a lot of bad spells over the years, most of them your own, but you'd never once accidentally performed divination. Benny had tried to tell you what he'd been trying to do, but whatever it was never stuck in your mind. Especially, since you had been turned into an actual fox. His grandmother had to reverse that spell. Needless to say, you and Evelyn had not been happy. You'd coughed up fur for a week after that...

  So now you were sending passive-aggressive messages to him.

  You'd shown up to school about fifteen minutes early. Everyone usually tumbled in at five minutes before the bell, which meant your quick spell wouldn't be seen by anyone. Benny's locker was neat, which was a huge contrast to his personality, and it reeked of cologne. He didn't even wear cologne. You knew that because he always smelled like magic.

  Magic had a very distinctive odor, which was mostly like a dewy forest with freshly tilled dirt. You loved magic, the smell, the feeling, the preparation. You were particularly strong, but that wasn't uncommon in the community. You were happy to have your ability, thank you very much.

  You mumbled some words, just in case anyone overheard. The four books in his locker shot against the top of the metal container. You tugged against them, but they were attached like they had been welded against the metal. You smiled a little, before placing the flowers and note in his locker. You flipped your middle finger up in the air, so whenever Ethan touched the objects and saw this moment, he'd receive your message for him, too.

  You had tied up a small bouquet- buttercups and geraniums- for Benny and his grandma. The message of the flowers was for Benny, but the pretty colors and sprigs of sage were for his grandma. Buttercups meant the receiver was childish and immature. Geraniums meant the receiver was stupid and ignorant. Two flowers that represented Benny Weir very well. The note explained it well, so there wouldn't be any confusion on his side.

  You knew he would understand it without the card, though. He was smart enough to decipher the message without your help. He'd always been clever. You shut the locker at the clenching of your stomach. You didn't hate Benny. You couldn't. He was too cute and brave for that.

  You mentally gagged.

  You had been fighting off your crush on him since seventh grade. Recently, it was getting easier. Especially when he was hitting you with rogue and malfunctioning spells. You groaned and rubbed your temples. You didn't need to worry about a boy, you needed to worry about the Calculus test you had to take in twenty minutes. You sighed and continued toward your class.

~~~

  You were sat at your lunch table, nibbling on whatever the lunch ladies had plopped onto your tray. You were engrossed in this new book you had started. It had an odd combination of creatures in it. There were vampire-ish characters called Dark Hunters, demons, mermen, human voodoo dolls, witches, Seraphim, and even pirates. Even with the motley cast of characters, their dynamics were incredible and extremely vivid.

  A quick burst of movement tore your attention away from your book. Nobody around you seemed to notice anything weird, so they all just continued with their conversations. Not even a slight difference in the room appeared to any of your classmates. It said a lot for their senses of danger.

  Sitting on your lunch table, one you shared with a bunch of other kids who preferred to study and read over socialization, was a humongous, black, bird. It was a raven that towered above the people sitting with you. Its beak was sharp and a glistening black and its eyes were the color of nothing. You tried to contain your gasp when it cocked its head at you.

  A deep, guttural, squawk poured from the bird's belly. Just as suddenly as it appeared, a burst of blue flame erupted and enveloped the midnight feathers and nothing eyes of the bird. As the last bit of feathers burned away- you felt your skin boil near your wrist. You jerked your hand away from the table, just in time to see black lettering appear across your wrist. The lettering was a dark, scarlet, red and was facing you. It was a Latin word- you knew that much. You were pretty sure it meant 'claimed', but you could have been wrong.

  "Y/n, are you alright?" Malia Harrington, who had sat at the 'nerd' table with you since high-school started, looked up from her book. She was staring at you curiously. One of her hands was hidden beneath her book and she looked close to closing it. She looked concerned, but there was something strange flickering in her whiskey-colored eyes. It was almost like an emotion, but you couldn't tell what it was. You nodded your head and dropped your hand. You let the now tattooed part rest against your thigh, so Malia couldn't see the message.

  "Yeah, I just- pinched myself on the table. Just wasn't paying much attention, I suppose!" You forced a shitty laugh out, just waiting for more questions to come towards you. Luckily enough, she seemed to buy it- or just didn't care enough- and went back to her book. You quietly excused yourself from the lunch table and discarded your tray.

  You had gotten cursed. A big, fat, ugly, curse had been smacked against your left wrist. You weren't sure what kind of curse yet, but you would figure that out as soon as you got to your spellbook in your locker. You didn't know of anyone who would want to curse you or anyone stupid enough perform such a tedious ritual.

  You were slowing down, the floor seeming to sway under your feet. Your skin was beginning to get hot again like you'd been baking in the sun. A fever. You cursed softly, having to steady yourself against a nearby locker. You weren't too far from the water fountain, so you stopped for a quick sip. It seemed to perk you up a little and you continued forward.

  Your physical state was wavering, the curse was starting to make you sick. You scanned your brain- running thousands of scenarios through your mind. Most symptoms would explain the type of magic used in the curse- which would also explain the severity. Mirror magic wouldn't be so hard to counteract, candle magic would be a little bit more difficult, but not so bad. You were just pleading with whatever God or Fate-bearer out there that it wouldn't be a difficult curse to remove. The bird that had appeared had died in the spell, which wasn't too comforting. Was that what was going to happen to you?

~~~

  Benny was standing at his locker when you managed to drag yourself further through the school. He was wearing a striped shirt that reminded you of a grunge Freddy Kruger. Benny also wore a pair of plain jeans and his stupid crossbody satchel. His head was ducked low and he was talking to Ethan beside his locker. Ethan looked around, like whatever they were talking about was serious. Ethan's eyes met yours and they widened.

  Pieces clicked together.

  'Who was stupid enough to perform such a tedious ritual?' you had asked. You only knew one idiot and he had a bad reputation of spells backfiring.

 In a blink of an eye- you had Benny pinned to his locker and was glaring up at him. He yelped ungraciously and started trying to push you off him. You felt some unnamable emotion in your gut. Why would Benny curse you? Sure, you didn't think he liked you back, but you certainly didn't think he hated you enough to curse you.

  "You cursed me?! When are you going to learn to stop fucking-" You cut yourself off. On his wrist, the same dark, crimson, writing was slapped across his pale skin like a label. It was in the same position as yours and you released your grip on him. He was frowning down at you and fixing his now-messy shirt.

  "I didn't curse you! We thought you did this to us." You looked at his face, noticing red, blotchy spots on his cheeks and neck. His normally bright eyes were duller now. You felt your stomach curl up. He thought you had cursed them? Who was them?

  Your gaze traveled to Ethan, noticing the blotchy patches on his face as well. From the heat rising in your cheeks and neck, you assumed you looked similar. Ethan held his left arm up, and sure enough, a replica of your marking was stamped upon his skin.

  "You said curse? Benny was talking about that, too. How bad is it?" Ethan asked. Benny huffed, clearly upset that Ethan was asking you about magic-included situations. You felt a flush settle under your skin.

  "Did you guys see the bird, too? Or did you see something else?" A quick description of the raven was given and the boys nodded their heads. They'd had the very same experience. "I'm not sure about the important information. I was on my way to my locker to get my spellbook, but I'm sluggish."

  Benny opened his mouth to speak again when something going incredibly fast slammed into the lockers near the three of you. You jumped, trying to keep your scream behind your tongue. Sarah Fox bounced off the lockers and onto the cold floor. She groaned loudly, rolling onto her left side and nursing her right arm. Ethan and you moved to help her up. She wasn't exactly heavy, but her skin was so cold it almost burned. You jerked your hand away, but Ethan's hand had clenched down and he'd stiffened up.

  Sarah's fangs lashed out at the empty air in front of her and she clapped her hand over her mouth. She looked worse than the three of you, by far. But it was mostly because of the blood vessels in her face. They were blue and black under her dark skin, creating a spider's web look in her cheeks. Her eyes were gold, unable to change back. She cursed softly but was cut off by another hiss. You grabbed the arm Ethan didn't have ahold of, showing Benny the same marking you all had. He cursed softly and the two of you turned your arms for her to see.

  Ethan's white eyes returned to brown, but only for a second. You watched his eyes roll up into the back of his head. His knees buckled and Benny surged forward and grabbed him. Ethan didn't stand back up, but instead, he collapsed in Benny's arms. He was completely unconscious and Benny let him gently rest on the floor.

  "What is going on?" Sarah stopped hissing, but she still looked the same. Some students started walking into the hall, so you pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. She tilted her face towards the ground and the other students didn't stop walking. "I saw this freaky bird on my chemistry table and it caught on fire. Then my arm started to burn."

  "We've been cursed. We have no idea who or how they did it. We're on our way to Y/n's locker to get her spellbook." Benny kicked Ethan's side gently, but he didn't stir. His breathing didn't change but just stayed steady. Soon enough, two more people rounded the corner. One had a hood over his head and the other left her blonde hair dangling in front of her face. Erica and Rory.

  "Guys, I think Rory and Erica got cursed, too. Look, they look like Sarah." You jerked your chin in their direction and they jogged over. Sarah must not have known what she looked like, because her hand shot up to her cheeks and she recoiled.

  "What's wrong with Ethan?" Rory asked. His voice sounded stuffy, which meant his fangs were out, too. Something was affecting the vampire's appearance, but Sarah looked the worst of the three. Her inky veins were dark and prominent, the ones on Erica and Rory were faint.

  Your gaze flickered back to Ethan. His nose was starting to bleed, but the blood was black instead of red. You gasped and crouched beside Ethan. You were hit with a wave of dizziness, but you shook it off. Nobody else was bleeding, except for Ethan. Why?

 He'd used his ability- sure he didn't mean to- but he'd touched Sarah and got a vision from her. And Sarah looked worse than Rory and Erica because she's used her vampire speed to find them, instead of just walking. You swore again and wiped Ethan's black blood away with your sleeve. He gave a soft groan and tried to roll onto his side. Benny started trying to help him stand up, but Ethan wasn't exactly conscious yet.

  "Don't use your abilities! No running, no strength, no mind-control, no visions!" Your eyes widened and you looked up to Benny. He looked vulnerable like he was thinking very hard and trying to come up with an idea. His forehead creased slightly when Ethan pushed his hand away from his nose. He started to sit up though, smacking his lips and licking them. He was thirsty and Benny got the message.

  Benny held his hand up and was about to snap his fingers when you grabbed his hand. You ignored the warmth of his skin under your palm. "That means no magic. The curse's speed just increases and we get weaker. Don't use your magic, Benny."

  Pieces clicked.

  The color of the blood. The use of abilities increased damage and speed. Fatigue and fever.

  "It's a Death Curse. Someone's used Blood Magic to curse us. They're trying to kill us and using our magic and abilities will speed it up." You stood back up and saw Benny going to grab Ethan again. "Don't touch him!"

  Benny pulled his hands away, but he stayed crouched down. You grabbed his arm and hauled him up. He pushed your hand off of him. "We can't risk giving him another vision. We don't know if there's a certain number of times before it kills him."

  Benny's eyes widened, his blotchy cheeks making him look younger than he was. He took a step away from his best friend. "You heard Y/n. Nobody touches Ethan!"

 "How are we going to get him out of the hallway? The bell rings in eleven minutes. People can't see us like this, guys." Sarah bit back another hiss and started to shift her weight from foot to foot.

  "He only has visions when he touches our skin, right? So what if we don't touch his skin?" Rory asked. Benny nodded and started looking around the hallway.

  "Madison Fields is in the gardening club, right? Cause I have an idea." Benny walked across the hall to a random locker. He opened it- people without locks on their lockers are just too trusting- and started going through the contents. Soon enough, he pulled two sets of gloves out of a small bag at the bottom of the locker. He pulled a pair of gardening gloves on and hurried over to Ethan.

  Benny put the second pair of gloves on his best friend and pulled his sleeves down and over the tips of his fingers. Finally, he tugged Ethan's hood over his head and pulled the strings of his hoodie together and tied them.

  "What was the point of that?" Erica asked. She glanced up at the clock and back to the scene before her. You understood, so you hooked one Ethan's arms around your shoulders and helped Benny stand him up.

  "We can't touch his skin now, so he can't get a vision. Let's go, I think Grandma can help us."

~~~

  Benny's grandma took one look at the six of you and started chanting in Latin. It wasn't exactly a comforting thing to see an Earth Priestess doing as soon as she laid eyes upon you, but you were assuming it was necessary, given the fact black blood was drying on Ethan's upper lip and Sarah looked like a demon.

  "Grandma, can you please help us?" The six of you had managed to shove yourself into Sarah's car and get to Benny's house before Ethan had gained much more consciousness. It must have been a Hell of a vision and taken a lot of energy from him for the curse to hit him that hard. Evelyn nodded her head, but she locked the screen door for good measure. Ethan whimpered softly, resting his hood-covered head on your shoulder. You jerked your shoulder and he repositioned his head to rest on Benny's shoulder.

  "How long ago did this happen?" Evelyn asked.

  "Thirty minutes ago. Sarah and Ethan need help, Grandma. Please?" Benny got a slight pitch to his voice, almost like he was scared she wouldn't help. She eyed him, almost like she was trying to see through him. The screen door opened and she held it open for the six of you to trudge through the door.

  "Don't touch anything. I've got just the thing to help!" Evelyn shut and locked the door to her house again. She snapped her fingers and an ornate box with green writing appeared in her hands. She popped the lock on the box and pulled out two bars of soap.

  "You're making us wash our hands?" Erica asked. Her fangs lashed out and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Evelyn shook her head before tossing a soap bar to Sarah and Rory. Sarah caught it, but it hit Rory in the face completely.

  "Close. I'm making you wash your bodies. There are two showers. Split up into groups of two and make sure you wash your skin good. Pay close attention to behind the ears, the face, and above the heart. Those are the most affected places when it comes to curses. Go on!" Evelyn shooed you, Erica, and Sarah towards the downstairs bathroom and motioned for the three boys to head upstairs.

  "Let Sarah go first. She needs it more." You said. Erica nodded and the two of you turned your backs while she got into the shower. The water started and the curtain was pulled shut. Erica sighed and sat on the floor, resting her head against the wall. You joined her on the floor and tried not to pass out. Your head was throbbing and the heat that seemed to raise the hair on the back of your neck seemed to become unbearable. All you needed was to start coughing and this would be the worst case of the flu you'd ever had.

  "So how come you're cursed, too? You're not one of the frequents of this little nerd-pack." Erica asked. Her fangs were resting on her bottom lip and her eyes were still glowing. She hissed slightly and rolled her eyes. You could see Sarah's outline in the shower curtain; She was scrubbing her skin vigorously.

  "I have no clue. At first, I thought Benny did this to me, but it turns out it's somebody else's fault." You scoffed. Erica looked amused, but she closed her eyes and continued to lean against the wall. "This happens a lot, then?"

  Erica nodded drowsily. Steam was filling the bathroom slowly, so you clicked the overhead vent on. You rested against the wall for a while, with your eyes shut and the steady sound of running water lulling you to sleep. Erica hopped into the shower next, so you continued to sit where you were. Sarah's skin had returned to its normal coloring- no black veins or paled features. Her eyes were still a bright gold and her fangs were on display, but she looked healthier.

  "Evelyn's magic-soap does the trick. I feel so much better, but I'm so hungry. But not for blood? It's like-" Sarah gripped the sink basin when her legs wobbled underneath her violently. You sat up, watching her regain her balance. "It's like my blood sugar is dropping almost. Like I need real food. Human food."

  "You shouldn't ever crave that. Whenever you turn, human food has no taste after that. No appeal to vampires." You stood up and guided Sarah to sit on the lidded toilet. She patted your hand after she settled. "I think it's the curse."

  "What the fuck?!" Erica cursed from inside of the shower, the water stopped abruptly and Erica's arm shot out from behind the curtain and she started smacking things off of the top of a shelf. Sarah quickly handed her the towel she was looking for. Erica jerked the curtain back after she secured the towel around herself.

  "Erica... what's wrong?" Sarah asked. Erica was squinting hard and her eyes were their normal pale blue. She was gasping softly and holding her hands in front of her eyes.

  "My vision- it's blurry. I think-" You watched tears well into her eyes. "I think I need my glasses again."

  "You two are becoming human again. It's part of the curse- It's taking your powers!" Your eyes widened and you looked down at your hands. You closed your eyes and focused on the magic coursing through your veins. It was a constant feeling, that of a warm liquid trickling from your core outward. It was a comfort to you, something you always focused on when you were scared or overwhelmed- the strong and powerful feeling of magic inside of your veins.

 It was so much weaker. You cursed loudly and started pulling your shirt over your head. Erica handed you the soap and got out of your way. You were undressed and under the spray of water in less than thirty seconds. You rolled the bar in between your hands, making the soap thicken and spill over your skin.

  "If truly I am cursed today, let the water wash the hex away. If truly I am cursed today, let the water wash the hex away. IftrulyIamcursedtodayletwaterwashthehexaway. IftrulyIamcursedtodayletwaterwashthehexaway-" You continued to chant the words, each time with more meaning. It was very simple magic, water magic, so you were hoping you weren't increasing the curse's speed while doing it.

  "What's going on? What are you doing?" Sarah asked from the other side of the curtain. You growled and continued scrubbing your skin red with the soap bar in your palm. Soap-suds were rising off of the shower floor and swirling around you. You watched your veins flash to black quickly and you stopped automatically. The suds didn't drop to the bottom of the shower again but slowly slid down your body. Your skin returned to normal and your dizziness went away.

  "Nothing that worked. I just really hope Evelyn's soap works better than that chant did." You rinsed the soap off and stopped the water. You dried off and got dressed, the two girls turning their backs to give you privacy. You wondered why they stayed with you, but you saw Sarah's quivering legs and realized you needed to help her into the kitchen. You did and returned Evelyn's soap. She had you throw it in the bin, never once going to touch it.

  The boys were sitting at the table waiting for the three of you. You helped Sarah sit down and she gave you a grateful smile. Ethan's hand extended across the table before he remembered he wasn't allowed to touch anyone, so he quickly gave her a thumbs up.

  "What now?" Rory asked. Evelyn placed a sandwich in front of Sarah and watched as the teen vampire gobbled it down without much hesitation. Benny made a face.

  "She's not even supposed to eat human food. What's going on?"

  Grandma Weir grabbed something out of a drawer and hid it behind her back. "Hold out your hands. Palms up and in a straight line."

  The six of you did what you were told. Pressing the sides of your hands together with your palms facing up. You were about to ask her what the point of this was when a knife slashed across your palms at lightning speed. You bit back a curse, trying to spare your swears from Evelyn's ears.

  "Wha- Grandma!" Benny curled his hands to his chest and nursed them. Erica went to lick the blood off of your hands but stopped when she saw the dark grey color. You all shared the same color of blood. It wasn't as dark as Ethan or Sarah's had been earlier, but it wasn't healthy.

  "Just like I thought. My magic soap helped some, but the curse is strong. It's draining your life forces. Which means your magic. And your souls..." Evelyn cast a sad look at the vampires. Your eyes snapped to meet hers.

  "How do we fix it? Every spell has a reversal. Some curses are the same way." Your jaw clenched and you took a deep breath. You would be damned if you were going to cry. That wasn't going to get you anywhere. "Tell me this is one of them."

  "It is, but it's not a pretty one." Evelyn walked to the head of the table while the six of you wrapped your hands in paper towels. She ruffled her grandson's damp hair and avoided eye-contact. Your stomach shriveled, but you kept your brave façade up.

  "The six of you will have to work together to find the spell-caster responsible. The curse can only be undone when they are dead. Only then." Evelyn's hand paused in Benny's hair and dropped to the table. She pulled a chair out and sat beside you all.

  "That's not bad. We take out bad-guys, like, once a week." Erica scoffed and started to push back from the table. "I'll personally rip their throat out with my teeth- I can't see without my glasses again and I refuse to tell my mom I threw out my inhaler at the beginning of the year."

  "It's not that simple. The spell-caster is stealing your life force and adding it to their own. They won't be at their strongest until after you all are dead, but they certainly won't be weak. They're already strong- if the intensity of this spell has anything to say about it." Evelyn pursed her lips before she continued. "I dare to say they'll be unstoppable if they claim your lives. Way beyond anything I can, nor anyone I know, can fix."

  "So we have to stop them. It's us or nobody, huh?" The side of Benny's mouth quirked up. Hew had a determined expression on his face, one that you'd never seen his dorky face take on before. The gears behind his eyes were turning and, for once, he didn't look like a dumbass. You fought back the flush that washed over your body. Sarah looked over at you for a second but went back to her sandwich. You tried to play off the blush you knew covered your cheeks, so you directed your attention back to the matter at hand.

  "How long do you think we have?"

  "Hard to say, but finding and ending this tonight would be my best guess for your survival." Evelyn breathed out raggedly and you looked away. If you saw a single tear in her eyes, you were sure that you would become a sobbing mess.

  "Thank you, Benny's Grandma." Rory smiled from the opposite of her and she rolled her eyes playfully. She stood up and left the room, but you could tell by the stoop of her shoulders she was holding in her emotions. Oh, this was that bad then, huh?

  "There are tons of people in Whitechapel! How are we supposed to find the one responsible for this?!" Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose, trying not to scream out in frustration.

  "Yeah, it's like a needle in a haystack, but we're all blind idiots allergic to hay." Ethan dropped his head against the table but quickly sat back up. "But I guess having a Seer for a friend is a blessing, huh?"

  "No! You cannot have another vision! It's too dangerous, Ethan." Benny was shaking his head wildly, sending droplets of water onto the surface of the table. He looked a little bit like an overactive saint bernard puppy after a bath.

  "It can't hurt me if I already had the vision! Remember? I had it at school, right before I collapsed!" Ethan scrambled out of his chair but had to steady himself before he could move any farther through the kitchen. He found a piece of paper and a pencil and shut his eyes tightly.

  "Well, what did you see?" Rory rose from his seat to get a better look at the piece of paper Ethan was drawing on. Erica grabbed onto his shirt and yanked him back into his seat.

  "He's trying to show us. Be patient." Rory lowered his head like a scolded child. The pencil was flying across the paper, without Ethan even looking at the paper. He was done in about a minute and opened his eyes to look at the paper. He nodded his head and smacked the paper down onto the kitchen table you were all sat around.

  "This is what the ingredients that were used in the curse was kept in. A backpack, which means the person is a student and goes to our school." Ethan looked at the paper again, but this time his shoulders sagged. "Which means we have to kill one of our classmates."

  "I hope it's Milo Miller. He gets on my nerves." Erica reclined in her chair and squinted at the paper. She was far-sighted, but you doubted that she could see the drawing.

  It was of a backpack with those decorative pins from shows and movies on it. You saw a Daredevil and Doctor Who pin side by side. There were other pins there, but they were just meanless logos to you. Meanless, but extremely familiar.

  "I know that bag! I see it just about every day. It is a dark green color, right?" You demanded. Ethan nodded his head, eyes wide and mouth agape.

  "So you know who this person is? You know who cursed us?!" Sarah exclaimed. She went to grab Ethan's arm in excitement, but Benny grabbed her hand before she made contact with the Seer's skin. Ethan pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hand and his hood over his head. He took a step back from everyone as they crowded around you.

  "Yeah! Her name's- her name is Malia Harington. She sits with me at lunch every day. She's been in school with us since the fifth grade." You looked down at your hands. Why had she cursed you? You'd never done anything to her. You hadn't interacted with her that much, now that you thought about it. "She was with me today when it happened. She asked me if I was alright after I jumped out of my seat."

  "Malia? She's in my chemistry class! She asked to borrow a pencil from me today." Sarah was staring at the sketch of the backpack while she talked. The others looked around in bewilderment.

  "She did the same thing to me! She even gave me my pencil back after class, the bitch!" Erica exclaimed. Her fangs snapped at the empty air and she growled in annoyance.

 "Me, too!"

  "And me!"

  "So that's how she cursed us? She made contact with us when we were in class and what? She touched our skin and bam! we're doomed?" Ethan shook his head, lost deep in thought.

  "No, she would have to put something on us. Something physical for us to have on our persons. Like a hex bag or-" Benny cut you off while you were gesturing around the room, hoping for another example to pop into your head.

  "Like a small string inside of a mechanical pencil!" Benny exclaimed and rushed for his backpack by the entrance of the house. He came back with his lead pencil in hand. He pulled the eraser from the top and dumped the lead onto the table. Three small pieces of lead fell onto the table and one silver threading needle. A dot of red was solidified like wax at the end of the needle, almost like it was going to drop off the tip at any moment. It didn't.

  "That sneaky witch."

  "Good thing I know she has band practice after school. She's always the last one to leave, even after the teacher." Rory spoke up from the side of the table.

  "Why do you know that?"

  "Because Vampire Ninja knows all!" Rory waved his hand in front of his face, accidentally hitting himself in one eye. "I need my glasses. My depth perception is off..."

  "Guess this means we need to go catch us a witch, huh?" Benny asked. The five of you nodded your heads in response. You worried your bottom lip but stood along with the rest of them.

~~~

  You had been taking out bad guys- the weekly big bads as Erica put it- for a while. You usually did it solo and the problem was taken care of quickly. It was a lot easier that way. No one but you could get hurt, you only had to watch out for yourself. You were careful regardless.

  Whitechapel High was deserted. The lights in all of the rooms were switched off and the doors were all locked from the outside. You cursed and raised your hand to open it with a little magical assistance when Sarah's hand pushed yours down.

  "No magic. Remember?" Sarah tucked your hand into your hoodie pocket. You pulled it back out and crossed your arms.

  "How are we supposed to get in then? I doubt anyone here knows how to pick a lock!"

  "I can. Give me a minute." Ethan crouched down to the main door and pulled two pieces of metal out of his pocket.

  "Where did you learn to pick a lock?" Erica watched in confusion as Ethan wiggled the pick in the lock while keeping the other steady. Benny stood proudly beside his best friend.

  "Skyrim."

  "There is no way you learned how to pick a lock from Skyrim."

  When the statement left your mouth, an audible click resonated from the lock. Ethan pushed on the door and it swung open. Benny and Rory took turns high-fiving his gloved hands. You, Sarah, and Erica watched the three dorks off to the side.

  "Let's hurry this up, I've got places to be." Erica sashayed into the school building. You saw her narrowly miss the doorframe and wondered if she was getting dizzy. Your head was starting to hurt again like you needed to eat, but you weren't hungry.

  'Like my blood sugar is dropping.' Sarah had felt the same thing. So it was curse still working its dark magic. You nibbled on your bottom lip before following the other five into the school building.

  The air inside of the school was cold and stale. The taste of dirt and dust settled on your tongue. It was almost suffocating. It was very dark magic and you clenched your hand around the aluminum baseball bat you had.

 Since the six of you could no longer use your abilities, you'd had to turn to other means of defense. You and Ethan had baseball bats, Erica had a six-inch switchblade, Sarah had a crow-bar, Rory had a Batarang, and Benny had a nerf gun with pencils in the darts. You had no idea what the fuck you six were going to do.

  It didn't take long to find Malia. She was in the middle of the gym- where the band practiced since Whitechapel didn't have a band room- with candles spread into the five points of a pentagram on the floor with one candle in the middle. Hair and string were tangled into piles and she was sitting with a sewing needle weaving from one hand the other. You knew the making of a voodoo doll when you saw one, and that was definitely it.

  "What are we waiting for? Get her." Erica bared her human teeth at the outline if Malia. She surged forward with the switchblade glinting in the low-light of the gymnasium. Malia was humming something low, it was familiar, and continuing to sew the hair and string together.

  Ethan and Rory started moving towards her too, but you grabbed their arms. You could feel something electric tangled with the dust and dirt in the air. She was working magic, but it had nothing to do with the doll.

  "Erica, wait!" Benny called out. Erica stopped and threw an incredulous look over her shoulder. Malia never moved at the sound of Benny's voice. The song- spell- never stopped. Benny raised the nerf gun and shot Malia in the back. She didn't cry out, but only crumbled into a pile of black smoke. The lights coming from the windows blacked out and the flames on the candles burned brighter.

  Malia's laughter began to ring throughout the empty space. You pulled the two boys behind you and started walking forward.

 "You cursed us? Why?" You asked. The laughter stopped and a whooshing sound came from in front of you. The gym lights were turned back on and Malia was standing in front of you.

  "I'm sick of the vampires in Whitechapel. I'm sick of the monsters coming here because the humans are Meals-On-Wheels for any hungry creature cruising through town." Malia spat the words at you. You took a step back when you saw her face. Her skin was pale and her eyes were bright red. She snarled at you, showing her rotting teeth and forked tongue.

  "You're possessed." You whispered the words and she screamed in your face. She was possessed by her own Dark Magic. It was a common occurrence when witches went dark- some of them could handle it, but some of their souls just weren't made for it. Apparently, Malia's wasn't.

  "I am empowered! I am free of the veil that hid my eyes." She turned her gaze towards Sarah. "Your kind is a plague to humanity. The curse that the gods put on you should have wiped you out- not make you immortal. I intend to fix that."

  "In case you haven't noticed since you lost your veil-" Ethan waved his hands in front of his face, "But not all of us are vampires. Did you just pull names out of a pointy hat?"

  "You six are meddling imbecile who make a habit of getting rid of people with plans. I decided to wipe you all out before you got the chance to interfere with me." She scoffed and fluttered the arm of the cloak she was wearing and disappeared. It was like a shitty magic trick with actual magic.

  "Then you're too late. Cause we're here and we aren't leaving without a fight." Sarah raised her crow-bar and started forward. Malia cackled again and you were reminded of Jafar from Alladin.

  "You and what army?" With that, your weapons were yanked from your hands and shot to the ceiling. They hit with a very heavy clang and stuck there. You rolled your eyes.

  "That's my trick." You pouted and started to shuffle forward. In the blink of an eye- Malia was in front of Sarah and grabbing her throat. Sarah grabbed her hand and ripped it off her throat. Sarah kicked Malia in the middle of the chest and sent her soaring across the gym and against the wall on the other side.

 "Sarah!" Ethan rushed forward and grabbed Sarah, who was folding like a lawn-chair and collapsing to the ground. The veins in her face that had disappeared came back and throbbed like a heartbeat. You watched Malia stand up from the opposite side of the gym. Her face had the same veins as Sarah. She began to walk forward and stumbled. Your brain tried to grasp for something to do, but whatever idea had come to you vanished.

  Malia caught herself and the black of the veins absorbed and she stood up straight. She walked towards Sarah and when she got there, Sarah was kicked back into the wall with the same amount of force Malia had been sent flying with. Srah hit the wall and slid to the ground, groaning.

  Erica cursed and grabbed the witch by her hair. She yanked her backward and sent her to the ground. Erica stood above her and flashed her fangs. When she went to tear Malia's throat out, a blast of magic sent her in the same direction as Sarah.

  Malia stood and flashed her rotting teeth at Rory, who whimpered and surged forward. Rory threw a punch, but it didn't come close to landing and Malia caught his hand. She crunched the bones in his hand and he began to gasp for breath. Rory trying to get away, but she sent him to the ground. You saw movement out of the corner of your eye and Ethan was beside of her, bringing a book down against her head with surprising force.

 Malia screamed out in shock and dropped Rory's hand. Off to the side, Sarah and Erica were getting to their feet. You looked around for something to grab, but the only thing there was the bleachers and you certainly weren't going to be able to pick those up.

  "Ethan!"

  You turned back to the scene unfolding before you, just in time to see Malia's marble colored hand clasp the side of Ethan's face. Your eyes widened and you surged forward, but Malia lifted her free hand and sent you and the others backward. Ethan gasped hollowly before his body went ramrod straight. His eyes fogged over and black blood began to ooze from his nose.

  Benny screamed and tried to run forward, but was thrown against the wall once more. You watched the black blood vessels appear in their faces. Ethan was starting to slouch, but so was Malia. You saw Rory speed towards the two and tackle Malia to the floor. Benny went to grab Ethan, but you stopped him. The idea from earlier had resurfaced and you had a plan.

  "I know how to stop her. She's sharing our energy for a second before she takes it. That's why she keeps stumbling before she gets stronger. I think she messed up the spell when she was performing it. She intertwined our life forces and hers too closely. She gets weak before she gets strong!" You exclaimed. Sarah was beside you now, Ethan's unconscious body hidden behind hers.

  "Then what do we do?" Sarah asked. She tucked Ethan against the wall and crouch-walked closer.

  "She's like Rogue from X-Men! Whatever we throw at her, she can throw back just as hard. So how about we give her something she can't use against us?" Benny motioned to you and him. Sarah furrowed her eyebrows at the lack of her in the plan. "When she gets extremely weak, her magic should fail for a second and the weapons should drop from the ceiling. That's when you need to kill her. She won't be able to defend herself."

  You and Benny shot off of the floor and started toward the middle of the gym. You spread your fingers out with your palms toward the floor. You felt the Earth underneath the concrete and started pulling the roots of weeds and flowers to you.

  Using your magic felt like you were being drained slowly. Like you were walking in the desert and the sun was slowly starting to fall, taking with it the heat and leaving you in the cold. You saw cracks begin to spiderweb across the shiny floor and greenery start to rise from the darkness. You smiled when you saw Malia try to walk toward you. She stumbled- hard- and almost didn't catch herself.

  Benny's hands were palm-up and releasing butterflies into the air. Their iridescent wings fluttered in the rays of sun coming from the small windows at the tops of the gym walls. It looked like a colony of monarchs bobbing around the room. He was getting pale, just like you were.

  "You fools! You're just hurting yourselves!" Malia screamed the words, but you could see the amount of effort it was for her to remain standing. After all, you were starting to feel it too. You watched the stems of flowers blossom into full and vibrant geraniums. You bit back a chuckle.

  "Geraniums, really? And here, I thought we were friends." You could hear the teasing tone in Benny's voice, which was a strange contrast to the usual stupid one. You felt butterflies in your stomach- had you accidentally eaten one?- and you fought back another flush. You hated Benny. That was the only possible explanation for feeling that way from his words. You scowled in confusion.

  "Even if we were, you're still an idiot." You stated. You balled your hands into fists and thought about making something else. You felt your stomach pulling like something had been hooked behind your bellybutton and was reeling you in. You closed your eyes and concentrated.

  The wind started to whip around you, causing your hair to hit smack you in the face. You groaned, feeling your legs begin to wobble with the effort of keeping you standing. Your head was throbbing and you felt something trickling from your nose.

  You felt your feet leave the ground and the air hold you gently, like a mother cradling her child. You were levitating, which was something you had been working on for a few days now. You felt yourself getting cold and your lungs start to clench up. You tried to focus on the magic flowing through your veins, but the feeling was starting to get so weak. You cracked your eyes open.

  The first thing you noticed was the black veins traveling down your arms and into your hands. It looked like ink had replaced your blood. The blood running from your nose had landed on your t-shirt and you made a look of disgust. It looked like sludge.

  "I don't- I don't think I've got much more in me!" Benny yelled over the sound of the wind. He was on one knee, his arms outstretched and white light emitting from the tips of his fingers. There was snow falling gently around him, coating the gym floor in a thin powder. You looked at the ceiling. The baseball bats, switchblade, Batarang, and crowbar were still secured to the top of the gym. You could see one of the baseball bats wiggling with the wind. She was giving out and you needed to end this now.

  Malia was screaming. Her face was one, big, shitty, art project made by that quiet emo kid every school had. It was a mess of toxic blood, which looked like spiderwebs on her face, and marble pale skin. You felt a scream rising to your own lips, but it was because you felt like your arms were being ripped off. There was no way you were going to be able to keep this up. Another couple seconds and you thought you might die.

  The gym lights shattered overhead, sending shards of glass raining down with Benny's snow. The windows to the outside were drenched in the darkness crawling from Malia's presence. She was powerful, but you and Benny were taking a toll on her through the connection of the curse. She screamed again.

  "Y/n! Take my hand! Take my hand!" Benny sounded hoarse and weak, but his voice still managed to reach your ears. You watched him stand on his feet, a swaying mess, and he let his hand reach toward yours. You slipped your hand into his and felt his power. It was weak, but it was still there. You pushed your magic into his body and you could feel him doing the same with his. You were sharing the little energy you two had left.

  "'Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that.'" Benny mumbled the words out and you felt the connection stir to life. Where had you heard that before? He was quoting something, you just couldn't think of what it was.

  Sunlight blossomed between your clasped palms. You couldn't think of anything to conjure up, so you focused on the beam of light connecting you to Benny. It faltered for a second and grew brighter. The light expanded, pushing outward and enveloping the two of you. You could see his face now.

  His veins weren't just carrying the black blood, he had it pooled in his cheeks, like sections of his face was rotting off. His cheeks were sunken in and his eyes had deep, dark, circles surrounding them. The pretty blue of his eyes was almost white now and they were bloodshot. Blood was dripping from his nose and ears. You knew you looked the same.

  Martin Luther King Jr. That was his quote that Benny had referenced.

  You watched as Benny's feet lifted off of the floor and he began to hover beside you. The light was pushing against the outer layer of Malia's darkness. You watched as the light stopped moving. It was like two magnets were pushing against one another. You watched as the loose baseball bat on the ceiling fell to the floor. The others were wiggling too now and you knew what you needed to do.

  "'Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that.'" You finished the quote and turned your face towards Benny's. He was very close to you already, almost relying on you to keep him steady while the two of you levitated three feet off of the ground.

  You quickly pressed your lips against his. You felt his hand clutch down on yours and his mouth press back. The light between your hands became heat and you felt a surge of energy blast from your body. It knocked you and Benny out of the air and the weapons magically glued to the ceiling were sent crashing to the floor.

  "Now!" Rory shouted to Sarah. You wondered when he had been informed about the plan, but your attention was stolen away when the switchblade was swiped off the ground and plunged into Malia's chest. You watched her form flicker before she exploded, sending black goo splattering on the walls and floor.

  Everything was still for a second, but then your energy and powers came snapping back into you, like the end of a rubber band being released against a target. Your lungs gasped for a good intake of oxygen and a cloud of fatigue was seemingly lifted from your body.

  You watched the correct coloring return to your skin. You wiped the gross goo off your upper lip. The others cheered loudly. You heard Sarah make a quirky catchphrase that summed up the battle, but you couldn't hear it too well. You were exhausted. Curse or not, that amount of magic was draining.

  "So, uh, Y/n?" Benny spoke next to you. Your eyes snapped open- when had they closed- and you looked at him. A thin sheen of sweat was at the top of his brow, but his pupils were blown wide. The smell of magic- Benny's smell- was strong and you just wanted to melt into him. So much for getting rid of that crush, huh?

  "Yeah?"

  Benny ran a hand over the back of his neck while he avoided eye contact with you. You felt yourself shrinking slightly. He nibbled his bottom lip before he dropped his arm and gazed into your eyes. "There's this new movie out at the cinema and I was wondering if you would like to go with me? To watch it."

  "Like a date?" Your mouth quirked up at the side. It was his turn to blush and he nodded. You smiled and he returned it.

  "Exactly like that." You felt a burst of warmth in your palm and realized you had never let go of his hand. You weren't planning on it now.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

What He Wants (Pt. 7)

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Summary:  On going series of Bucky getting his shit together and falling in love with you.

Warnings/ Content: Grumpy Bucky cursing, some angst. Nothing terrible though.

Word Count: 1725

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Rock bottom is behind us and our boy is awake and trying to figure out what to do next. He’s still in rough shape but we’re starting the climb back up to a better place. 

If you missed the first few parts, you can read them here: One Two Three Four Five Six

XOXO -Ash

What He Wants, Pt. 7

Bucky wakes up almost a full day later in a sterile white hospital room. It takes him a moment to orient himself in the room, panic filling his chest before his current memories rolled in. It is too similar to waking up in a HYDRA facility, his memories wiped, his body healing from the latest round of experiments they had performed. His breath comes in ragged sobs and he pulls desperately at his hair, trying to focus on the present. 

“Hey Rumpelstiltskin.” You say, startling him. 

His face pales and for a moment you think he’ll pass out again. Just as quickly though his cheeks heat, embarrassed to have his moment of panic witnessed. 

“What day is it?” Bucky asks, his voice full of gravel. 

“It’s Sunday. You’ve been out almost a full day.” 

He curses under his breath but makes no attempt to continue a conversation.

You go on anyway, needing to fill the silence. “We had to evac you to the nearest military hospital, you still had bullet fragments in your leg. You were in surgery for over an hour but they said you’ll be back on your feet in a few days because of the serum. You might have a slight limp for a while though, there was considerable damage to your calf muscle.” 

For the first time since he’d woken up Bucky looks down at his right leg which is wrapped up and slightly elevated in the bed. “At least it’s still attached” he jokes grimly. 

“Not funny.” You chide him. “We’re going to have to talk about what happened.” 

“Why? Shouldn’t you be off hacking into someone else’s brain?”

You let the barb pass, refusing to be baited by someone who currently looks like he can't sit up on his own. “Nope, the mission was a success. I’m back on my own free time now and I’ve decided to hang around and piss you off some more. So, would you like to tell me when exactly you decided to off yourself?” 

“I… I wasn’t… It’s none of your concern. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow and you can go back to pissing off the other people in your life.” 

“Stop dodging. And there are no other people in my life. It’s just me, and all I’ve got is time.”

Bucky winces slightly at your confession. He knows what it was like to have no one but yourself and it is more painful than he’d ever admit. “I’m real sorry to hear that.” 

His sympathy shocks you, as does the pain radiating from him. The agony you had a glimpse of two days ago must have been only the tip of the iceberg for him. “It happens.” You brusquely move on, refusing to let him keep dodging the subject. “You said something before you went down on the compound, a name, Stevie. You were talking to Steve Rogers, weren’t you? Is that what this was all about, losing Steve?” 

Bucky would have rather taken twenty more bullets in the leg than have this conversation with you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Steve was my best friend and he lived a full, happy life. I’m glad he got to live the life he dreamed of for all those years, even though it meant we lost him so soon.” His words don’t match his eyes and for an ex- assassin he is a pretty terrible liar. 

“But what about you? Your life?” 

“Well, doll, that was almost not a problem. But you had to butt in.” 

“Damn right I did. What about your life, Bucky? Shouldn’t you get your happily ever after too?”

Bucky straightens himself a little at your use of his name. His insides clench curiously at the sound of it tumbling so delicately off your lips. “My happily ever after died the second I fell from that train back in 1944. Every moment since has just been a prolonged purgatory.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks but you steel your emotions, not wanting him to see how much his pain affects you in fear he’ll clam up. “I’m sure you still hate me, and you absolutely can, but I have to think that our paths crossed for a reason. I only know what I’ve read in your file and heard of in the news, and none of it adds up to the guy sitting in front of me.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” 

“See, there it is. You act like a tough guy but it’s all bullshit. I promise I won’t go near your mind without your explicit permission but I want you to come back to The States with me. I have a place that’s secure, only Fury knows where it is and he’s a tight lipped son of a bitch.” 

“Why in the hell would I go back with you? Why would you want me to? And I will never, ever, give you permission to fuck with my head. I had seventy years too much of that shit.”

You switch tactics, desperate for him to give himself a chance. “How did it feel, seeing Steve come back at the end of his life? Knowing he had found a way to get married, have a family, grow old with the love of his life. You had what, three months with him before he passed?” 

Bucky’s whole body shakes, he looks so frail under the flimsy hospital gown, dark circles haunting the undersides of his eyes. It’s like your words sapped him of any remaining strength he had. “Why are you doing this?” He whispers, barely holding on to his emotions.

“Because I want you to think, Bucky. Think about what you want the rest of your life to look like. You know what Steve did with his, how happy he was. I know he was ‘Captain America’ and all, but why does that mean he gets a happy ending and you don’t?” 

“If you knew half the shit I’ve done over the past seventy years you would already have the answer to that.” 

“Nope, not buying it. I’ve seen the files and I know what they did to you. You had no choice over what you were doing.”

“Still did ‘em though.” 

“Yes, physically it was you. But mentally you were checked out. That’s how mind control works, and they did a hell of a job on you.”

“He’s still in there, the Winter Soldier. Deprogrammed or not, he’s still lurking, waiting for a chance to pop back out. The world is better off if I eliminate the risk” 

“Bucky, of course he is. He’s part of you, you can’t just erase him. Deprogramming will remove the triggers that bring him out but that’s it. You need to make peace with that. The world will be better off with you in it. You have the potential to do so much good.”

“Like what, huh? What good can I do? Most of the world will never see past the monster and I can’t keep doing these missions. I’m so fucking tired, doll. I’m just done.” 

“So retire. Walk away. This mission payout was high enough to live on for two lifetimes, take it and come back with me.”

“I don’t take money from missions.”

This is news to you. “What? How do you survive without it?”

“Savings. Steve. And the Avengers. SHIELD knows not to deposit my pay, they gift it to a handful of charities I picked out when I signed on. I won’t profit from warfare.” 

Your heart sinks in your chest, he has more good in him than he realizes and you become even more determined to help him see it. “Well, I have enough stashed away from mine to keep us afloat. Do you know what I do back home?” 

“You sound like a fucking shrink.”

“Good call. I work with returning soldiers and trauma victims. I was one year away from graduating with a psychology degree before the attack on New York. The therapy center near my home is kind enough to look past my lack of a degree considering how close I was to finishing and my unique qualifications. I get to use my ability for good, to help people move on with their lives.”

“So I’d just be homework then.” Bucky wonders for a moment how much his life would have changed if you had been there when Steve tried to save him the first time. If you had been able to bring back the past Hyrda erased when they created the Winter Soldier. Your angry snap at him breaks him from his thoughts. 

“Hell no. And stop it. I want you to come back with me because I think once you get your damn head on straight you would be a great addition to our team. You would be able to help us care for some of these guys with a level of empathy that you are uniquely equipped to give.” You purposely squish down the tiny part of you that’s screaming you also want him to come back so you can keep getting lost in those pale blue eyes and help mend his aching heart. 

Bucky shifts, uneasy at your proposition, and forgets they had taken off his metal arm. Where he expects to brace himself, he finds just air and he topples over, scrambling with his right hand to keep himself from falling off the bed. The hole in his right leg pulls and he swears. You’re a mess, he screams internally at himself.

You jump up as soon as you see him tip and grab his shoulder, trying to steady him. He jolts at the contact, staring into your eyes with a mix of fear and surprise that takes your breath away. Bucky shifts himself up, trying to get comfortable and your hand lingers along the wide plane of his shoulder. You rub it soothingly above where the metal starts and he shudders. No one had dared to touch him in years except Steve, and even he never went anywhere near the mutilated part of Bucky’s body. Your soft fingers rubbing at the sore muscles make him want to beg you to keep going. His eyes shut, rolling back in his head for a moment. 

“Okay.” He finally murmurs, startling even himself at the decision. 

Tag List Lovelies: @my-current-fandom-is @blacklightguidesnic @amazonianbeauty

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #1

As I picked this up, I said, "If that's not a Glenn Fabry cover then I'm not a virgin!"

Look out! We've got a real barn burner of a tale starting here!

Louis, the old man, gets interesting when he reveals that his wife, Eleanor, has been locked behind a door in his house since 1945. And it's not a normal door! It's a door his father brought home and threatened him with the cutting off of his hands if he ever touched it. He said his father became Bluebeard but I think that was just metaphorical what with the door that nobody can look behind and all. I don't think he really had a bunch of dead wives' heads behind it. Although Louis here now had one wife's head behind it! Probably still attached to her body and possibly not dead, what with the door being magic and all. According to Louis, even Scarab couldn't get the door open. I guess Scarab is a superhero? And maybe it was Louis's alternate identity? Or maybe Louis knew him. I think I'll discover the answer to that question when I read the next page. Well, it's not actually the next page. That page describes how Louis's father disappears inside the door for months at a time and returns with strange items and new venereal diseases. It's the page after that page where we learn that Louis became the Scarab by messing with one of his father's treasures.

Fifty percent chance this isn't a superhero outfit but an alien S&M getup.

I'm not good with double negatives and I just got concerned that the initial caption reads wrong. Just make sure you read it to mean I'm totally not a virgin! Meanwhile, Eleanor lives in the Labyrinth of Doors now. She gets to be eternally young and have grand adventures every day. Sometimes she finds locked doors that can't be opened. Exciting! Other times, she'll find empty rooms behind the doors. Dramatic! Occasionally, she'll discover old appliances and housewares in piles. Swoontacular! How boring is my life that reading about a life where you get to open mystery doors that lead to stupid bullshit gets my heart racing?! Eleanor is living the dream! When I was a kid, one of my fantasies was that somebody would create a game which was just a neighborhood or city void of people. But their houses were all still there and you could go from house to house snooping at all of their possessions. I was so boring that my fantasy wasn't even about the end of the world where I could do that for real. I only wanted to do it from the safety of my room on my Vic-20! Oh, and how delusional was I that I thought a game like that would run on my Vic-20?! What a stupid jerk I was. I heard that, you smart ass! Questioning the tense of that sentence!

See? An assassin! Look at me doing actual research instead of just ejaculating my own precious opinions!

After the Sicari's ritual to find the door is over, he relaxes naked under a ceiling of swords while holding back his orgasm (so as not to commit the sin of Onan (which he wouldn't be committing because the sin of Onan is not a sexual sin but a breach of contract. But since religious people are obsessed with sexual desire (having so much pent up inside of them at all times), they've consistently demanded that the Onan story was something the Onan story was not. Just go read it yourself) and "shivering ... with a terrible sexual longing for death." It's too bad the Sicari is the bad guy because he just became my favorite comic book character. I wonder if Vertigo ever sold t-shirts of the Sicari? Can you wear a t-shirt in public that shows some leprous man whose skin is half barbed wire naked and holding in his orgasm? That sounds more dangerous than holding in a sneeze. While Sicari doesn't come, Louis sits at home thinking about his comic book battles as the Scarab.

I don't remember the time Doctor Fate fought Conjoined Twins Brain Man.

I hope the previous panel is ildchay ornpay! I'm using King Beauregard's suggestion to fool Tumblr's censors! But wouldn't be weird if you couldn't even talk about the negative aspects of ildchay ornpay (which I think are all the aspects, just to be clear!) without Tumblr censoring you? It would almost be like Tumblr didn't want people to be educated on how terrible ildchay ornpay was! Oh, I hope I didn't drive away all of my ildchay ornpay loving readers! Sorry for being critical of you with that whole "it's all negative" take! Eleanor's next adventure is a room full of electric fans. Can you imagine standing in front of not one fan but dozens?! Oh the heights of excitement she must experience every day of her life! So many fans blowing on you all at once! It's erotic!

Holy crap! This is a Vertigo title! They mentioned the lady's curse!

Remember the good old days when you didn't know what a period was or what the word virgin meant and your only wish was to search through a stranger's sock drawer? Oh to be young and naive again! To not have your body betray you and say, "No! Today you are a woman! Put away your childhood things and bleed!" To not have people at school pointing and laughing and calling you a name you had to look up in the dictionary later that day which led you to think, "Everybody else in seventh grade has fucked?!" To never be burdened by the shame of your first forays into masturbation, splashing loudly in the bathtub in such a way that, looking back, you know your mom totally fucking knew what you were doing in there. To feel the sweet granular relief that it was Chris Huff who got labeled "the breadbox masturbater" in junior high and not you (not that you'd ever even though of jerking off into a bread box. Nor did you think Chris did either but some kid has to become the scapegoat burdened with the rest of the school's masturbatory sins!). To never be so old that you find yourself sitting in a dark room thinking, "How fucking terrible must that burden have been for Chris back then if I can still, thirty-five years later, remember his whole Goddamned name?!" I never felt more empathy for a person, before or since, then when Chris Huff's name was said at 9th grade graduation and nearly the entire auditorium laughed. I swear I almost cried right there among all my peers. But I held it in lest I get labeled a bread box masturbator sympathizer! The night Eleanor finds her first window in the Labyrinth of Doors (and thinks about her period) is the night the Sicari finds the door and murders Louis. Or probably tries to murder Louis. He'll probably get his S&M costume on before he dies and it'll heal him because it's magic. I'm only speculating that it's magic because it's created by a scarab and because the Scarab fought alongside Doctor Fate. The Sicari throws Louis out of the second floor window which means I now have to believe that, broken and bleeding, Louis is going to crawl back upstairs to get to the scarab. You know, comic book, it would have been a lot easier on my psyche if you'd just let the Sicari dump Louis by the bottom drawer of the dresser. Sure, I understand it's less dramatic! But realize that just asking me to believe a 78 year old man can survive being dumped on the floor is already straining the limits of my disbelief! You can't also ask me to believe all of his bones didn't shatter after going out the second floor window! My God, I'm already invested in believing in a magic door and an evil being whose brain is composed of conjoined twins! How much more work do you want me to do here?!

No Louis. You're dead and this comic is over.

Being that this is a Vertigo comic book, Justin probably is dead and the rest of this story is just Justin Jacob's Laddering the last few seconds of his life. The Sicari realizes the door to Alamut (whatever that is. I can't constantly be asked to do research while reading comic books. Somebody expects me to check Wikipedia twice in one sitting?! The nerve! (okay fine! I checked. It's a region in Iran! Happy?)) doesn't exist. And in his rage, he does something that would be unthinkable to non-Comicsgate comic book readers in 2019: he threatens to rape Eleanor's corpse! Man, that Vertigo sure knew how to do horror! He also threatens to shit in the Scarab's heart when the Scarab finally shows up. That's the kind of thing that made a person reading comic books in 1993 think, "Whoa! This is cutting edge adult stuff! I can't wait to tell my first boss that I'm going to shit in his heart!" Yes, Louis manages to crawl upstairs and open the dresser drawer and put on his sex suit. He then somehow manages to find Eleanor but not in time. She's been killed by The Sicari. So the Scarab tells the Sicari that he's dead and he dies. And as he dies, the Sicari realizes there is no afterlife, no paradise, waiting for him and he loses his death boner and weeps like a baby that's dying. What a fucking wuss. I don't know why the last scene takes place on a plane but it does. I guess the bathroom door on this flight was a magic bathroom door that led to the Labyrinth of Doors. Maybe all doors sometimes lead there! The Scarab Rating: I rarely get excited by what I might discover on the other side of a door which seems odd when you realize one of my biggest fantasies as a kid was basically just that. Maybe I've been taking doors for granted? From now on, I'm going to stop expecting the room I've always known to be behind the door to be there. I'm going to hold my breath and hope that it will lead somewhere fascinating, like a room full of hatstands or urinals or electric fans or some other noun writer John Smith could come up with off the top of his head to take the place of something mysterious and exciting. Seriously, John Smith. You could have at least filled Eleanor's rooms with fornicating sloths and newscasters eating shit. But I guess the point was for Eleanor to be lonely so every room had to just have useless, inorganic bullshit. Just like the rooms in my house. Oh my God! I'm Eleanor!

[someplace-that-is-else]

‘Long May She Reign’: How Supergirl Righted the Ship in Season 3

‘Well?’ I uttered.

My co-worker simply shook her head. ‘It…isn’t the same.’

I frowned. ‘But was it good?’

‘Well…yeah.’

In context, we were discussing Supergirl. In particularly, the Kara/Mon-El (aka Karamel) relationship. Ever since the Season 2 finale, she had been worried how their relationship would change. Comic buff that I was, I gave hints on what might happened.

Several episodes in…we got our answer. It was also very clear by that point that Supergirl had gotten her groove back. 

SHOW ME THE SIGNS: WHAT CAME BEFORE

I had been cautiously optimistic about Supergirl.

Back in May, I wrote a blog about my thoughts on the last season of Supergirl (http://someplace-that-is-else.tumblr.com/post/160597303533/welli-guess-thats-your-exit-what-supergirl). It had been a season that was different from Season 1. And it was a very divisive season judging by fan response. In my blog, I had discussed where the season was going wrong and how it could correct that. At the time, villain Queen Rhea was being introduced and helped soothe some of those worries.

However, Rhea was gone. And a new season was upon us.

And…it was good.

The writers clearly heard the complaints from last season…some of which were in my blog…and this season was a beauty to behold.

FOCUS: KARA

There was several times last season that Kara felt more like a supporting character on her own show. No more than when the writers focused on her alien boyfriend Mon-El. It was about Mon-El’s adjusting to life on Earth. It was about Mon-El’s secrets. It was about Mon-El’s pain. Uh…ok?

It was not until the tail end of Season Two that it began to feel like Kara’s show as she went toe-to-toe with Mon-El’s mother Queen Rhea to save the world.

Season Three took Kara in a new direction. A darker direction. Post-Mon-El, Kara had become a bit of a recluse. Okay, not true. She was still saving the world. However, it was all she was doing. She had isolated herself from her friends. Part of it was because she was still dealing with the loss of Mon-El. Part of it was the fear of losing someone else. It was a direction the writers played with in the first third of Season Three, going as far as making Kara a little toooo willing to give her life. It was a trait that was all too relatable to anyone who had been deeply in love with someone. A bonus to that fact? That it was all about KARA.

Even as the season allowed for new elements from Cat-Co dealings with Lena and new villain Morgan Edge to a peek into Kryptonian religion, the focus on Kara never shifted as slowly, but surely she attempted to recover from the loss of Mon-El.

And then…HE RETURNED.

Immediately, worries came up again. Was the show going to shift again? Was it going to be less about Kara like it was in Season Two? Was it Mon-El time?

And….it wasn’t. It was about Kara’s reaction to Mon-El’s presence. It was about her reacting to his experience away from her and what had happened…which was time jumping…not to mention a wife.

Wait…a wife?

And then it was about Kara’s pain. Kara’s ability to overcome that. But the point continued to be made as the seasonal arc about a hidden Kryptonian weapon aka the world-killer Reign started to take shape.

It was about KARA.

YEAH, BABY!!! THAT BAND DYNAMIC!!!!

Another thing that has improved this season on Supergirl was the fact that THE ‘BAND’ WAS BACK TOGETHER.

I mentioned in my last Supergirl blog that Team Supergirl was suffering from the Season Two curse of being in separated storylines when most viewers wanted to see the team dynamic together. While it was nice to see characters being developed, something could be said for it occurring within the push-pull of the team. It was possible, but one might assume otherwise if they were watching during Season Two.

Thankfully, that appeared to be a thing of the past. Were characters still having separate storylines? Of course!! Off the top of my head, there was J’onn discovering his father was alive and trying to get him adjusted to Earth. There was Alex dealing with her wedding…or the loss of Maggie over the possibility of children. There was James being a good spar partner for Kara…and Lena, leading to a romance.

Even the newly returned Mon-El had finally found a place within the group dynamic. Mon-El’s introduction in Season Two was very much like how soap operas introduced new characters…shoving them down fans’ throat without much time for character development. Worse his time took away from characters that the audience already loved….a BIGGGG no-no. This season, Mon-El was integrated into the group slowly, ironically how a new character on a soap should be introduced. #douglasmarland. And Mon-El this season was so much better for it, still having his own storyline, but he still was part of the gang now. Best of all, none of it took away from Kara THE MAIN CHARACTER. His return even enriched her own now.

Speaking of story…

SOMETIMES IT’S THE JOURNEY: REIGN AND THE SEASONAL ARC

So…who remembers Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Five?

Season Five of Buffy the Vampire Slayer started with Buffy appearing to come into her own as the Slayer. And then it started to throw curveballs. Oh, it’s Dracula! Oh, Buffy has doubts about her potential! Oh, Buffy has a sister! Wait, a sister? How!?!  

Finally after several standalone episodes, the arc of that season revealed itself when a hot woman in a red dress entered stage left. Her name? Glory? She was…a hellgod. Banished from her home, she was looking for a key to get back to her hell dimension, throwing death and sass along the way. The Key? Buffy’s unheard of younger sister Dawn. It turned out some monks had casted a spell, making said Key into a person and gave Buffy and her friends false memories in order to be sure Buffy would guard it with her life. You see…if Glory used said Key, all of reality would fall apart.

But before we got to the end of the season, there were all kinds of episodes that appeared to not be connected to the seasonal arc at all. Buffy and her vision quest aka ‘Death is Your Gift.’ Spike’s growing love/obsession with Buffy which lead to a character named Warren creating a Buffy robot. Ex-Demon Anya and Willow having a jealous fit over Xander’s time with the other, allowing for the appearance of Olaf and his Troll Hammer. Completely unattached to the seasonal arc of Glory and her Key.

Or…was it?

In the season finale…the 100th episode at that…all of these loose threads came together. All the things that appeared unrelated just fell into place. The Troll hammer came in handy as Buffy took on Glory. As did the Buffybot and Spike’s growing feelings. Meanwhile ‘Death is Your Gift’ came full circle as Buffy gave her sister the greatest gift of all…the gift of living for another day by sacrificing her own life. Her death.

Supergirl this season appeared to be going in a similar writing direction. There was the second episode that introduced villain Psi. There was another episode having to do with the character of Coville and his embracing of Kryptonian religion. Both stories tapped into Kara’s state of mind post-Mon-El. Meanwhile, there was a crashed ship in the waters of National City. There was nothing that appeared attached to what the seasonal arc was about…naming the coming of supervillain Reign.

And just like Buffy Season Five…everything started to come together. The ship turned out to hold Mon-El and the superhero group the Legion of Super Heroes. Coming from the future, the mission was to stop the WorldKillers…which Reign happened to be ONE of. Coville turned out to align with the people behind the WorldKillers…and how that factored in overall was still a mystery. Meanwhile, Psi had appeared again, helping Supergirl out reluctantly in order to stop the WorldKillers. I was even of a mind that there were still secrets to be had to what happened with Mon-El in the future that have yet to be revealed that will affect Kara. Given that Kara had already been beaten twice by Reign, in order to stop her…them…would Kara have to do what Buffy did in Season Five?

Would she give her life?

Given how debatably suicidal she was at the start of this season…that could be a REAL possibility.

Overall, Supergirl was on a high in its third season. After a divisive second season, it had come back into its own with a strong seasonal arc with character development, the old school team dynamic that fans knew, and of course, the focus firmly back on the main character.

Long may she reign.

#supergirl #seasonthree #buffy #buffythevampireslayer #btvs #stronger #kara #losh #legionofsuperheroes #monel #karamel #reign #longmayshereign #glory #seasonfive #deathisyourgift #thegift #onehundred #focus #team #dynamic #seasonal #arc  #soap #douglasmarland #rightingtheship

[silkandconvalescencerpg]

The day has finally come in which all of the prompts are completed! To make things easier for you all, I’ve placed each of the skeletons’ prompts below, so that you’d save yourself the energy having to seek each individual one out. These have been a long-while in the making, so I truly hope they help, even the smallest bit, in your application process. I bid you all good luck!

RUFESCENT.

 001.  Honestly, while writing Rufescent I was just giggly the entire time (hopefully nottoo obvious to you guys), so I’d love to read a para sample that is completely filled to the brim with quirks and jokes, if only for the laugh. It would be a nice nod to the circumstances of their birth into the group, and a firm representation of one of their main facets. Moreover, it doesn’t have to be entirely silly, and it’d be lovely to read a scene in which they manage to incorporate their blazing wit and comicality into a situation in which it might be uncalled for or inappropriate, which makes it all the better. Surprise me, shock me, make me bite my lip hard enough because I have to hold back vicious laughter ⏤ that’s how the rufescent rolls.

 002.  Another detail that I implanted in their skeleton is the “you know, when they ask for silence in a library, they don’t exactly mean your kind of locked lips” line, and I absolutely adore it. The subsequent para doesn’t necessarily have to fall into this scenario, but this blunt, rebellious cheekiness is one of my favorite aspects of the rufescent, and I’d be a fan to witness a situation where this quality of theirs is magnified and shining brighter than a lumos. They’re just someone that you can’t help but snort at, really.

003.  Something that I feel would be overlook in the rufescent is their absolute, uncannily sharp wit. They are charming, they are hilarious, they are outspoken, they are a flirt to a fault, but they are also perceptive and clever beyond belief, which is how they get by. Write something that zeroes in on this, and how they use this to their benefit, or on the opposite spectrum, how perhaps it’s a “loss of potential”. In the same vein, maybe write about the cowardice they may be rooted in, the “carefully crafted bush” of theirs and how they “just wouldn’t fly away” from their current setting. Write about why! Write about pressure, and shedding personas, and just everything. I’d love to see your take.

NEMESIS.

001.  As stated explicitly and dramatically several times within their skeleton, nemesis is what I would call a double-edged dagger, a dichotomy if there ever was one. It may prove difficult narrowing this down into tangible words, or elucidating this into a specific scene where it can be properly captured, but I urge you to try. They are the extremities you wish you hadn’t touched, miraculously burnt and frozen over from simple contact, be it flesh, words, a look. Then again, fire is always mesmerizing before you get burned and ice is stunning before it pierces your heart ⏤ a vicious, beautiful cycle, one a healing charm can’t magically cure. They are fatally complex, and it’s a noble cause to attempt to corral them into mere words ⏤ an honorable challenge!

002.  I’m personally quite attached to the “cursing one parent while clinging onto the other” line, so I definitely wouldn’t object to seeing this sentiment portrayed in some form or another. Which parent did you pick; how do the dynamics differ; how do you suppose the parents react? All questions that can be carefully weaved and crafted into a passage of a scene, and my curiosity is certainly peaked.

003.  The biggest question you can ask when faced with nemesis is why ⏤ why are they the way they are? How do they cope without turning to ashes inside out? I want intimacy, an inside look into the labyrinth that they sheathe. Who are they? A clear answer, a stark analysis. I need to be shown an understanding and development of what exactly they have become and will continue to be. The five W’s and H would be a fun tactic with nemesis, if I’m being honest, because I want to see that transparency that proves you know them inside and out, even the mangled, molten parts that nobody else can define. “What’s it all for anyway?” You tell me.

THRASONICAL.

001.  One of my favorite little snippets about the thrasonical was making them a history-loving fool! I’d love to see how this obsession began, how it coiled into the very core of who they are. Perhaps a scene where we see them in the middle of a particularly vigorous session where they just went deep, completely encompassed within their own world of the past and its greats ⏤ the thought process, certain mannerisms, anything and everything that just embeds you into the world with them. Moreover, reveal some of their favorite pieces and periods of history! Strictly magical (here, you can really have fun and make up some lore on your own) or do they have a soft spot for muggle history as well, and how do the two mix, if so? How does the study and love of history complete them, and why?

002.  Now, I wouldn’t be hyperbolizing if I said they were fuck-all, one hundred percent, tits-up charming, so much so it’s nasty. In fact, you could accuse me of understating it. Capture this in action. The suaveness, the delicately tempered eyebrows that can throw the strongest wills into frustration, the quirk of lips that can shake foundations. Please ⏤ this is their arena, and I’d pay to watch, so make the show worth an audience.

003.  So, I kind of threw that line of “balling up fists and growling deep in your throat and calming the temper of a furious forest fire (sometimes it’s too late, sometimes you burn)” abruptly into the end, but that certainly doesn’t lessen it’s impact; perhaps it creates an emphasis, even, and I want to see that notion explored, abused, and taken advantage of. This is a bomb, and I want to see it detonated. Write an instance where they did allow the temper to catch fire and burn, and the consequences and clean-up of such a disaster. Or perhaps detail a moment when they could have, were so close to blowing up, but reined it in at the last second; capture the strength and will that it took, and how they blew off the steam in the aftermath. Go crazy together.

ACHILLES HEEL.

001.  One of the funnest qualities of the skeletons was coming up with the names for each and every one of them, and how exactly they would be molded to fit their titles. For achilles heel, there’s a lot of weight behind their name, for it’s perhaps the most well known out of all of the skeletons. I know why I picked it, but I want to know why youthink it’s well-suited. How do you tie it into your character? Do you prioritize the myth, the biology, or the general meaning behind it the most? Maybe show me a scene where the name just clicks so perfectly with who your character is. It’s a classic that has survived centuries, and I’d love to witness the clash between old and new ⏤ your interpretation against the very own Achilles.

002.  I instilled somewhat of a religious aspect within their skeleton ⏤ “analyzing scripture with your father in the italian countryside to fill up endless summer days, screaming at the top of your lungs blasphemy the next” ⏤ and it’s something I’d dearly love to see emboldened. I genuinely didn’t have any details in mind for this other than what I wrote, so I’d love to see any take on it whatsoever; it was a very impulsive inclusion, but one that I knew I couldn’t replace, simply because there’s so much that you can fabricate from that one line. Moreover, the Italian countryside is mentioned, and I’m curious to see how you would pave a subsequent path from there. This is where you can build up on the idea of their childhood (religion, family, residence), and there are so many roads to explore, it’s difficult to choose just one. The constant of achilles heel is their back-and-forth dance that is embedded into every facet of their existence, and it’s again apparent here. How did they go from point A to B? What is their relationship with religion and how does it affect them in their daily life? It’s a very boundless arena, but one that can only declare a single champion.

003.  To me, one of the most gut-wrenching pulls of the achilles heel is their complete ability for self-destruction, not to mention adeptness as self-deception. It’s like a demented game of whack-a-mole, and it’s fair to say there’s no winner. I want to see this underlined, magnified in the harsh and bright light that it deserves. This is the most imperative facet of who I introduced them as, and it’s something I’m beyond thrilled to see come to life. I want to see how they face this in their daily life; paint an instance where “playing peek-a-boo with feelings” radiates from a passage or dialogue, where it can be seen without being explicitly told. To pull achilles heel off, a tender and clever portrayal is needed, and I’m excited to see what you can pull out of the bag. Moreover, your interpretation on the unrequited torture aching within their bones is a particular desire of mine, and I want to see it exploited and dissected. Do with this what you will!

ACCISMUS.

001.  The driving force behind accismus is their undying and fervent passion. Beyond all else, they are like the unyielding embers in a stark winter; if you were to strike their bones together, a flame would appear. However, it’s almost as if this is lost on them. There is a certain desperation that trails their every breath, and every moment of their existence is spent trying to coax something deeper, something more, out of themselves. There are several lines within their skeleton that touch upon this, but “visiting the forbidden forest just to feel the thrum of explicit life around you, reminding you of your own blood pumping in your veins” works wonders to accentuate this point, and I want to see your own rendition of the meaning behind this. In order to wholly portray accismus, you must have a strong grip onto who they are, what their mindset is, the core understanding beneath it all. It’s complex to untangle and pinpoint, but I want to be shown that you know every single centimeter of the map of who they are.

002.  Truly, it wouldn’t be unfair to call them a mess. They really, really are. In their skeleton, it’s touched upon that they nearly gave up the honor of head student, and I want to tour the thought process behind this. There’s a subtle tragedy that lurks beneath the surface, and it needs to be exploited. Perhaps it’d be interesting to see the snapshot of when they found out they landed the position, and how they news shot through them. Who did they tell? Did they keep it to themselves for a while? Did they laugh, cry, go numb? It might be difficult to capture, but that’s exactly why I want to see it. I want them to be empathically, appallingly human ⏤ after all, so they do.

003.  For me, accismus is the rare introvert-extrovert type. It’s hinted at several times throughout the skeleton, such as “knowing the answer in class and waiting for the professor to call on you as a last salvation, drawling response and shy smirk at the ready.” They’re a beloved fixture within Hogwarts, despite not trying to call attention to themselves, especially in any boisterous or rowdy way. One of my main excitements relies on interactions, and so I’d love to see any dialogue between accismus and others. How do they react around others, what is their general temperament, if they were interrupted in a thrilling part of a book, how would they lash out, if at all? Really try to dig into their very essence.

GORDIAN KNOT.

001.  The inspiration behind gordian was clearly the old legend, and the very idea has been a tug at both my mind and heart for a while. The character concept was one of the first that I came up with, and this core of tangled ties, of a mangled and impenetrable mess, is the center of this skeleton that truly draws you in. Of course, it’s nice and complex on paper, but I am eager to see how you can enact this through dialogue and a realistic and meaty characterization, in which I can truly envision your muse coming to life. I want you to make this hidden and intricately tortuous character utterly transparent to me, to prove that you know them inside and out, knotted soul and all. They may be a complete riddle to everyone else, but you must be inside that sphere, right inside their head. I want to be excited to figure each facet of them out, bit by agonizing bit.

002.  One of my favorite injections within their skeleton was this idea of existentialism and their own curiosity with it. I was quite vague with the concept, for I wanted this to be the field where you can totally go off the tracks. What does this mean, specifically to your muse? How far and creatively wild can you go with this route? To me, gordian is a weird one, and I’m truly so excited to gather your interpretation of their mindset and how this idea became rooted in them. There’s a huge well of opportunity here, and I want to see how deep you’re willing to go.

003.  There are some gothic themes implanted within the group, and gordian is one of the tiers in that aspect. Within the line “chasing (my bad ⏤ walking, casually, slowly, always on the disinterested front) fulfillment in empty corridors tense with brimming old souls of centuries past ; what is it that deceiving emptiness can lend you that a breathing, talking human can’t? is it the breathing or the talking part ; or both?” there is plenty to uncover and explore with, and I want to this notion to somehow, in some (obscure or not) way, be addressed. I mean, just dissecting that part of the skeleton can lead you in so many directions, with a plethora of insanely delicious storylines to trek into. I want to see you blossom in this element, and really run with it. Give me something to sink my teeth into and groan in appreciation. Moreover, take into account their three words: stoic, precarious, nomadic. How do they fit your version of gordian? Do you disagree with them? Really show me your vision, in whatever capacity you deem best.

PROCRUSTEAN.

001.  The procrustean is quite the heavy character, and it’ll take a bit of skill to maneuver their characterization into something legible. The main notion attached to their skeleton, the very core of who they are, is this gilded cage that is shackled to their bones. The definition of procrustean reads “enforcing uniformity or conformity without regard to natural variation or individuality,” and it’s a perfect exposition of the center of the character. That latter part rings especially true, and truly emphasizes that not only are they weighed down by familial (or whichever direction you took) pressure in their future, but also their soul, their heart. They are clearly affected, but how? Strip every shackle off and reveal to me who they are underneath. Even more, show me who they could have been, had they not been born into a cage. Have they ever wondered this themselves? What is their mindset? Divulge these possibilities, these truths.

002.  A section of their skeleton focuses on that “if anything, you own the distinct talent of fabricating an escape in any pleasure or pain, tiny crevices or eyebrow-raising reaches alike, you can find, seeking out with a desperate vengeance that momentarily grants you a shortly saccharine fantasy, even if the tang of blood is more bitter than sweet ( can you even tell? )” line, and my, does it pack a punch. This introduces a whole realm of possibility, and I’m keen to see what kind of vices you have affixed to their character. It even hints at delusional fantasies and lapses of desperation that may be all too disastrous for them. How dark are you willing to go, and how do you interpret the direction of the last few words within the line? Include a scene or snippet of how cavernous this vein really runs.

003.  A regal mien is somewhat embedded into the flesh of their skeleton, and it doesn’t necessarily conclude that they’re born with a silver spoon in hand. They just naturally exude this palatial air that bears an imprint on anyone who crosses their path. I’m somewhat desperate to see procrustean in action, to be given a diagram of their mind, soul, and everything more. What are their interactions with others like; how do they react and how are they reacted to? The cloak of a coward conceals them, but how is this a player in the game of their life? How gracefully do they fit into their predestined box?

LOTUS EATER.

001.  The very concept of lotus is derived from the greek myths and legends in which, “as a result of eating the fruit of the lotus plant, a group of people were stuck living in a state of idleness and dreamy forgetfulness.” This is one of the more interestingly based skeletons, and there’s so much that you can do with this. I wanted to pack in everything I could into this concept, and I want to see all possible fronts exhausted. This notion of laziness beautified and an extravagant stupor is etched into the very fragrance that islotus eater, and I want to see this grand sloth reverberate a heartbeat. Perhaps even weave a tale that compares them to their namesake, how they would bear in such a mythological tragedy (or peace?). Hearten me to their lethargic existence.

002.  Moreover, an idea that can be warred within your application is the question of: how much of their soul is true, embedded laziness, and how much is clouded with the fear of change; of achieving the bare minimum so that perfection is the lowest bar to attain? Lotus is truly a tricky one, for their intentions are up in the air, floating in bliss among sunsets and daydream clouds. Take this line: “layering jewels upon jewels as they catch a shimmer and shine, layering shadows upon shadows of a girl, catching personas like light on diamonds” and wholeheartedly rip into it. You can take so much from those words, and I’m excited to witness your interpretations. As for scenes in which you can enwrap this into dialogue and interaction, perhaps a piece of synergy in which you highlight the conversation happening both inside and outside of their head. You do what feels most comfortable, as well as what can portray your enriched understanding of their character.

003.  There are several hints of a rather rough exterior inside the skeleton, such as “running idle circles barefoot in an orchard, playing hide and seek within the groove of trees and healing scrapes and bruises on knees with the soft caress of emerald grass and blooming flowers” and the only foul word (“shit”) found within any of the skeletons, battled against a delicate, mortal softness that begs to be damaged: “careful, don’t prick your delicate veins on a rose’s thorns ; your flesh is too brittle.” I want to see this played out brilliantly, in a bright, sunshine gold light that catches the eye. With lotus specifically, I think the childhood facet is an important one to explore, for a section of the skeleton directly refers to it, and how they evolved from there to here. Thrill me with tender and bittersweet nostalgia!

PRESCIENT.

001.  The prescient is a funky one, and I’m gearing for this to be played out spectacularly. Off the bat, you are drowned in this Alice in Wonderland swirl of an identity ⏤ except darker, funner, and snarkier. Truly, their skeleton holds some of my favorite lines, and one of them is this introduced notion of a holier-than-thou attitude regarding Divination, reminiscent of our favorite Brightest Witch of Her Age, while desperately gripping with both hands tight onto their own eyebrow-raising “prophecies”: “coughing bitterly on the dense fumes that cloud the divination classroom ( a roll of your eyes here, a barely disguised scoff there ), but clinging tightly onto the prophecies designed by your leftover tea leaves from that morning’s cuppa.” It’s honestly just so like them, and I want you to attain your own comfortability with the lunacy raging inside their head: not simply understand who they are, but sacrifice a piece of yourself to adopt their madness; Alice, meet your Mad Hatter.

002.  I don’t typically like to reveal certain fictional characters who have played a role in the initial, loose characterization of the skeletons, but in this case, I don’t see it deterring you from your own interpretation, but rather pinpointing some new perspectives to get your mind turning where it may have not been. That said, particularly in the Harry Potter universe itself, I drew some influence from Luna Lovegood, Lavender Brown, Hermione Granger, and even Tom Riddle. They each lent something to the building of the skeleton diagram, and from there, I expanded it and fluffed it with a lot of my own twists from how these “seer-esque” characters are usually done ⏤ it’s safe to say I had a little too much fun with prescient. They are truly different at every turn, and mangle expectations inside out: thus, I want you to shock me with your application; surprise even (and especially) me.

003.  One of the three words I included for prescient was meddlesome, and boy, oh boy, is that the truest thing I’ve written. This, mixed with their fatal curiosity, is a disaster brewing in the horizon. A large section of their skeleton reads: “everything and everyone has a rhyme or reason and oh, oh, oh, you’re too curious for your own good ⏤ what do you exist for if not for prodding and poking into a semblance of understanding / after all, one can be pushed down the rabbit hole or jump ; what difference does it make in the end if you’re the one to prod them off the ledge, as long as wonderland is reached at the crash of the fall?” and if anything, this is what you must pick up on in your interpretation. They can almost be suffocating in their ways, and that makes for some nasty interactions; or perhaps not? Detail their relationships across the sphere, or highlight a scene or dialogue in which their meddling ways are magnified for my viewing. Is the cat killed, or brought back?

FAVONIAN.

001.  The tug of favonian is this grand, old-fashioned fairytale hook, which cloaks you in its worn, mysteriously-shadowed aura (I generally get more descriptive the longer I write for periods at a time, my sorrowful, regretful bad). Their skeleton is actually one of my shorter ones, but I believe it to be more within less. This idea of a desperation to find oneself magically within the pages of a storybook leads to a more grandiose and perhaps even tragic analysis, for who must you be ⏤ what life must you live ⏤ to wish to exchange your reality for fiction (says I, the hypocrite)? Moreover, the line: “worn copies of beedle the bard graining your fingertips as age-old excitement pulls you to turn the page, again and again” hints that this pull has seized favonian since childhood, and what can you twist and weave with this piece of news? Is this fascination like the roots of a tree, growing sturdier and stronger with each passing day, until oh!: an evermore, majestic oak? In a world of magic, with goblins, and spells, and wheezes ‘til the eye can see, what more can you long for?

002.  I’ve been asked about this in the past, but allow me to reiterate and truly expand on my answer: a darkness clings in between the lines of favonian, and it’s hinted at through the “at least try and shave that hairy heart of yours, before they catch onto you” line. Like I said before, this is referring to the short story within The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and it’s perhaps the short story that reeks the most of the gothic theme, a thread that is most definitely deliberate. How you choose to incorporate or address this vein is up to you, but I suggest you get clever with it ⏤ if you’re having fun with it, I assure you that the same elation will radiate to me. Not all enchanted forests have a Tinker Bell, so run with it; after all, Hogwarts does have its very own forbidden forest to venture. A dark seed must always first be tainted.

003.  An extremely vital part to favonian is the “plucking your way through your garden, dismembering one flower at a time, chanting childish demands of ‘will they love me … love me not’ ( try : will i love me, will i not? pity, my dear : not )” line, which is why it was chosen as the crucial sentence to highlight within the masterlist. Here, darker themes are also underlined, for the innocent children’s act of plucking petals from a flowers is twisted into a literal, crippling action, maiming what was once sweet into something pungent. Even further, an insecurity is introduced in the parenthesis, sharp enough to prick your finger on. It’s truly key to at least talk about this in some capacity, so search for that dark, deep crevice within yourself and channel it.

PHAETON.

001.  The phaeton was a concept that was very original in the entire premise and creation of the roleplay, and I’m elated to see them finally flapping their wings out in the wild. Like essentially all of the skeletons, there is a soft dichotomy edged between the lines: arrogance versus inherent destruction. They are a very difficult concept to skillfully grasp, and can only be achieved with an exquisite and keen hand. They are wholly based upon the greek phaethon, and the myth instantly affords the skeleton depth where it may be hidden within the text: “inexperience proved fatal” is the theme that strikes severely, the chord that must be struck. However, legends may not be whole reality, and thus, I urge you to create a new picture rather than coloring within the lines.

002.  Following that same vein, arrogance is a key factor that is deeply implanted within the bones of the skeleton. Moreover, you can play on the “inexperience” and conceit by meshing them to attack the Head Student position that has been gifted to phaeton. “Arrogance is a certain type of breed, but are you a perfect design or a mangled mutation?”: where can this lead them? What part does this line play in their future / potential storyline? How will this fail them or uplift them? You can address these questions in whichever format you may wish to use, as long as the grip you have on their mind, heart, and soul is stable and obvious to my own eyes.

003.  A clever little input within the skeleton was “smirking dimples into fruition ; narrowing twinkling eyes into slits” and this truly warps what you thought the skeleton was into something else. This introduces a mischief to the concept, a fun gist and flowing wind that injects an acrid jest that you simply can’t help but inhale until you’re sneezing to the nines. Moreover, phaeton is perhaps the skeleton with the most singular lines, in which each new fraction amounts to a different meaning, and so much like the previous line, “heavy hearts weigh on the heaviest minds” is one that speaks thousands, and opens dozens of doors, without revealing much within the direct words themselves. Expand on these notions, and how they affect the vision of your own character; how they coil and root to encapsulate the core of your muse. Really wrap your fist around the center of their stem and tug.

[abelzumi]

November Contest Card Commentary

Right, anyway, here we go. Judging time. Alphabetical order under the cut. @follower-of-liliana is not included, as I’ve said what I need to say about Twilight Harvest.

@auartic-games - Hexseeker

(Runner-up!)

As for the card itself, it’s a brilliant card that is painfully narrow to design around and would require tricks and craziness beyond current MTG limits. That said, I adore it. I would love to see a complex set where curses are a primary focus. This card was a runner-up for a reason, and the elegance speaks for itself. Small nitpick: the hypen/quote should be its own line. Shift+enter gets you there on MSE.

@conorace - Final Zenith

If you had told me that one of the possible runners-up would be a five-color oriented card that is designed around planeswalkers and the sideboard, I would have said: “That’s highly unlikely. How did you get into my bedroom?” This head-scratcher is pretty much as well-designed as it could be for anything this complex. It was certainly a stretch of rules, and I appreciate the way that this card challenges MTG status quo. That said, might be too far into the future for now. Small nitpick: The tap symbol in the second ability should come before, and the cost should be “Remove ten charge counters from Final Zenith and sacrifice it:” Also, in my opinion, “Zenith” doesn’t sound exactly like a land name. I understand exactly where you’re coming from, but that doesn’t change the nature of the word.

@fatblunt69 - Risky Business

I’ll get the criticisms out of the way first. This card is woefully undercosted and should not in any circumstances be common. The second ability needs to come first, and the first ability should be a replacement effect as seen in cards like Blind Fury and Curse of Bloodletting. Now onto the good! This is a powerful card that is certainly red, a risky finisher, and feels reckless enough to be flavorful while being powerful enough to give thoughtful players a challenge. I would have changed either the name or the flavor text to reflect more of a world, considering the nature of enchantments, but for piracy and whatnot, I could see a swing with the art in a more humorous direction.

@guardgomabroa - Final Lap

(Runner-up!)

This is a card that should have been in Kaladesh. I can feel the rush of air, the heat of a dusty track, the roar of the crowd, the intensity of the rushing metal... Love it. Vehicles in general, however, are also something that feels narrow to design with. I would have made this card rare for that alone, but extra turn effects are so powerful that I know it needs to be mythic. Perhaps this card could have done better without the extra turn and instead given a bigger boost to vehicles as a finisher card - maybe extra combat instead. Regardless - perfect flavor and effective design.

@luckylooter - Bloodskull Tributary

Very fun design here. I can see the river turning from blue to brackish in the shadow of a gore-strewn battlefield. Still, I feel this card could have benefited from not being legendary and from not having Morbid attached to it. If it was still legendary, I would have liked to see a more powerful effect. As it is, this card could use some tweaking but is an effective and flavorful design. Not a whole lot to say except: thumbs up!

@myroo400 - Arixmethes, the Lost Polis

What the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. In a good way! Alright, this is probably up there with Final Zenith in terms of “cards that I love and that are currently outside of Magic’s realm of possibility.” Impossible to be a cycle, impossible to judge balancing without playing, but fantastic and strange and intense. Because of text box issues, I might have liked to see this without the Island type and instead have it just able to tap for blue mana. I don’t know - this card is slightly too wacky for my to judge properly because it really is a challenge to form. Good job! I’m nervous!

@neroxmtg - Equinox Instrument

Mechanical nitpicks: “Sacrifice a colored permanent you control” needs to be part of the activation cost. “Permanents” needs to have an apostrophe before the “s.” Right, commentary time. Interesting design for sure, but I’m failing to see the importance of color as it relates to (a) name, (b) flavor, and (c) mechanics. Alara was the first plane that seemed to come to mind with this for me, although I can’t place this card as belonging there. I’m honestly not sure where it belongs, and that frustrates me. Zendikar/Eldrazi doesn’t seem to suit it. I like the idea, but the barriers and the mechanical jumble needs to be ironed out before this card is viable. I would like more flavor text to see the story behind this.

@night-mtg - Yarana, Stone Mistress

Planeswalker design is difficult, and I appreciate the planeswalkers that came into this contest. Yarana is an interesting character, and reading up on the card itself, I’m impressed with the thought that came into the design. That said, I’m honestly not a fan for a couple reasons. Firstly, the first and second abilities feel both overpowered and... God, I feel like an asshole, but I don’t feel inspired by them. Gorgon magic in MTG needs more flavor in the designs that you captured well in your story; I just don’t feel it translated well to the card. Additionally, the ultimate is too close for comfort to that of Liliana Vess. For future reference, I am a believer that planeswalkers need severe mechanical strictness and balance before they can truly be adjusted for flavor. I want Yarana to exist, but I want her to be more streamlined.

@obzedat-repost-council - Frantic Agonizer

Good shit right here. My only concern is that at six mana your opponent is already willing to sac three lands and chump in order to get this card out of the way. I love the design as a designer, and as a player, I would hate to open this up in limited because I already know my opponents aren’t going to feel threatened by it at all. In other words: underpowered. But HECK if I don’t still love this card, so don’t get me wrong there. Nitpicks: The keyword abilities should come before the ETB ability. Also, I would like flavor text here.

@ohdearaqueerdeer - The High Priest of Ashmouth

Commanders that go back to the command zone don’t “die” and don’t do death triggers, which is where, I assume, this idea is coming into place. “Leaves the battlefield” might have been better. Hm, okay, I’m... Here:

“When The High Priest of Ashmouth leaves the battlefield, you get an experience counter. Then reveal cards from the top of your library until you reveal X Demon and/or Devil creature cards, where X is the number of experience counters you have. Put those cards onto the battlefield, then shuffle your library.”

Maybe the “leaves the battlefield”/”dies” abilities don’t even work here at all. Hm. I like this card and I like what you’re doing. I just feel the tweaks could make this perfect. This card was super close to being a runner-up.

@oona-queenofthefae - Totality of War

I feel that this card is trying to do too much. The cost is attempting to be flavorful - which I personally appreciate but that I don’t think has a place in true card design. The abilities could have been on one line, and upon reading this card, I don’t feel like playing it or playing against it; I just feel resigned. The desire to make huge ‘epic’ cards is real and understandable. But I highly recommend starting much smaller.

@planeswalkerwithtardis - The Eternal Guardian

Why is this an artifact creature? Why plants? I’m resonating with the design, as it’s simple but effective and powerful. Still, there’s a degree of disconnect between the elements you’re trying to bring together that I don’t really have the answer to. I’ll say this much: Simplify. Focus. Don’t put everything on the card at once. Find a place of unique design and then work to make the legendary aspect and the card aspect come together.

@remember-the-eldrazi-titans - Baum, the Wise

No flying on a Sphinx? Hm. Well, the first ability is GREAT and honestly... I would have made this card a runner-up if it had had flying and flavor text instead of that second ability. It might have been explained in post, but I don’t see how it’s necessarily mechanically relevant and even then what the intended flavor is. The cost could have been 2UU as well.

@samwisethebold - Vernal Miasma

I’ll get the strong criticisms out of the way: “Miasma” is a dark, shadowy, sad thing. This card is explosive and happy. Total disconnect that needs severe revision. Secondly - for that first part, do they draw equal to the cards they discarded themselves, or the TOTAL cards discarded? This needs major mechanical clarification. Thirdly, there needs to be a shuffle clause after the search ability.

But now onto the GOOD. This is the kind of “epic” card that I can get behind. I just wish there was more of a connection between these effects, because library searching and wheel effects... I don’t see them coming together. I love what you’re doing with seasons and change, I get it. Still, this card needs lots of mechanical revision before being considered. Keep up the good work, captain. I want to see more cards from you.

@seajai24 - Lazras, Spirit Reaper

(Runner-up!) (Like, seriously, so close runner-up!)

This was a card I was disappointed to pass up because it’s just so good. Every aspect of this card is good. The first ability marks it as an aggressive defender that’s tied into the name. The second ability is powerful and judgmental. The third ability is icing on the fucking pile of icing that at one point could have been a cake. I don’t know what to say except that I’m hard for this card and I am just fucking so mad that it’s second place. God, I love this fucking card. ARGH.

@sphinxs-revelation - Terra Incognita

Mechanically, I get this card. Don’t get the red, but okay, I feel it. Flavorfully, I don’t understand it at all. Why are things being returned? What does that have to do with land, as implied in the name? Why is the land “incognito?” Who wrote the poem in the flavor text? What is the context for the flavor text?

This is a fine card, but it raises far too many questions. Streamline, revise, rebuild. You’re onto something good once you clear your path.

@stoneforge-misclick - Long May She Reign!

Sure, I feel the flavor. But this card is insanely underpowered. Three-colored mythics need more power - lots more power. I like where the mechanics are trying to go, but I encourage you to push more, especially if you want to keep the type and rarity. I would have been more favored towards this as a tweaked enchantment, something that can give rise to Marchesa’s power while retaining the essence of your capture.

@sultaiascendancy - Simic Hybridizer

(Runner-up!)

You know me too well. I’ve been trying to get this kind of card and to see it for years. The second ability should be “Create an X/X creature token of the chosen colors and types.” Also, I would have loved to see flavor here. What is this wizard doing? Is he a rogue chemist? A reject? Does he sell his creations to the highest bidder? Do his other scientists like him or dislike him? Push flavor a little more here.

@thelastmegalomancer - Archlos, the Hate Reaper

Oooookay, let’s check this out. Five colors makes that first ability really...really crazy. I honestly don’t know if it’s even balanced but holy shit it’s insane. But in a good way. Second ability needs “...all other creatures with the same name as that creature.” Last ability? Perfect. I want to love this card. I really do. I just don’t feel that it’s balanced, even though all the balances are there. I’m afraid of this card and it gives me special feelings in my loins.

But “Hate Reaper?” This card doesn’t feel hateful - it feels devious, mystical, beautiful, terrifying. But not hateful.

@themaskedhero - Wilhelm, the Lily King

Heh. What a chump. Also what an aggressive knight, holy cow. I like this card - also, first “when” should be “whenever,” FYI - and I think it’s decent. It doesn’t tickle me precisely, because it’s based off of real-world storybook stuff in a way that doesn’t quiiiiiite mesh with the MTG-niverse, but I like it. Not a whole lot to say except that I think you did a good job.

@tmstage - Elysium, the City of Heaven

What the heck did you do the the picture box? Was it to keep room for the flavor text? Hate to say it, but I get the flavor WITHOUT the text. This card is balanced and unique, and tribal players would love it. I think it’s pretty darn cool, but that it also would need the right environment that I’m not sure Magic has right now. It’s a card that’s asking people to build around it, but we just might not have the correct mortar. Interesting and cool!

@wapulatus - Cloud Skipper

Congrats for making a new mechanic for this contest, or, well, for introducing one regardless. I think Tide is a good mechanic mechanically, but the memory issues are... interesting. Would Wizards make a “Tide Card” that goes in the middle and shows where the tide is? I read your post a while back and it stuck with me, which was good. Honestly, this card could have been a runner-up in a common/uncommon contest, but it had a lot of competition. This card is inspiring me to make a “world shell” design contest now, and I feel you may have a strong section there. Great job, and I’d love to see more.

That’s all, folks! Thank you to all the entries and the participants.

[museicaliteacup]

The Correlation Between Expressions of Love and Program Depiction for Minor Characters in Yuri on Ice

A year on from Yuri!!! on Ice, I want to discuss something that I’ve seen floating around various fandom circles through the months. It’s a general dissatisfaction that the show chose to highlight characters like Georgi and Michele by way of showing both their skating programs, and spent less time focusing on other minor but more easily accessible or representative characters: Guanghong, Leo, Emil and Seung-gil.

This inequality of screen time—but moreover, skating time and character development time—is an issue that doesn’t have an easy solution. The anime follows standard broadcasting time limitations, and as such, there are only so many skating programs you can show when considering the ones you have to show (Yuuri and the other eventual GPS finalists), and also all the off-ice time and story progression. Making the decision to show five programs per episode in the qualifying events makes sense, logistically. But how do you select which characters’ stories you are going to develop that little bit further, and which ones you need to condense?

My proposal is that the content of the programs, in a way, reflects the two focal points of Yuri!!! on Ice: how characters embrace, develop and view life and love. When you look closely, there’s actually a very clear distinction in the programs we are shown with regards to love in particular: some skaters emanate love in a way that is love beyond themselves, love for other people; and others either emanate love that isn’t related to people, or don’t express love at all. And that distinction is the line that is drawn between the characters that get more skating time, and the characters that get less.

However, just because characters don’t get skating time, it doesn’t mean they don’t get further development. Many of the characters get a lot of off-ice time and development, and all of the six characters I am going to analyse draw either draw parallels with or become foils for Yuuri. I think this last point is particularly poignant: Yuuri is the main character for a reason, and the ways each of these six characters skate are designed to highlight certain points of Yuuri’s own skating, storyline, and relationship.

Cup of China

Georgi: what happens when romantic love goes wrong

Georgi is our two-program non-finalist in this event, and his entire program is themed around his breakup. His programs are more than overtly about love: they juxtapose two extremes with regards to feelings, with him turning from an evil witch who wants to curse True Love because it doesn’t exist to a Disney Prince™ whose main objective is proving the Power Of True Love etc. And while people think this is boring or unnecessary to watch, it kind of makes sense. Breakups are complicated. They can be really messy, and especially if the other person was the one who initiated the break. When you still harbour very strong affections for someone, it really hurts when they leave you, and those two extremes that Georgi portrays are very much the two extremes you can end up feeling for that person.

Georgi’s performances also serve another purpose: echoing Yuuri and Victor’s relationship. His second program in particular serves as a poignant aftermath to Yuuri and Victor’s messy and difficult conversation in the carpark. Their relationship is strong enough that they are able to go from Yuuri crying and Victor saying all the wrong things to him to walking into the rink with Victor’s hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. A friend commented, upon watching the episode: “That’s not a level of physical closeness you can achieve after a fight like theirs unless you’re really close” (paraphrased). “I’ll always be, be there for you, I promised…” That’s one of those timeless statements that says I love you and this is how I will show it. Having Georgi skate this program about love overcoming obstacles and being a strong force beyond anything that might test it is a natural parallel to where Yuuri and Victor are in the story, and where they’re about to go.

Yes, Georgi seems like a bit of a comical, overly dramatic character and yes, he’s very hung up over his breakup, but he was the one who got dumped, and he has good reason to still be conflicted about it. Yuuri is constantly shown to process his thoughts and come to important realisations while skating; it’s no big stretch to imagine that other skaters might try and do the same. And, after all, Georgi’s emotions didn’t go to waste: he got bronze in the Trophée Eric Bompard, so there you go.

Leo and Guanghong: parallels to some of Yuuri’s subtler skating traits

The interesting thing about Leo and Guanghong is we actually see a lot of them off the ice. Although we get a glimpse of Georgi on the street, it’s Guanghong getting jianbing and Leo on a mission from Phichit to find Guanghong to come and translate for drunken Victor that we first focus on in China*. Guanghong is shown commentating on both Leo and Christophe’s programs alongside Yuuri and Phichit; and the two of them are shown to be trying to stream the GPF together in episodes 11 and 12, which is like, #friendshipgoals.

*(A note here regarding subs: although all the translations lean towards Leo saying that Phichit asked Leo to go to the restaurant and translate, apparently—according to a post from way back when—what Leo says has a much looser interpretation, and can actually be constructed as Phichit asking for Guanghong to go and translate; and since Guanghong hasn’t been answering his phone to Leo, we can presume Phichit tried Guanghong, got no response, then texted Leo to go out and find Guanghong for him. A different kettle of fish, but a useful clarification—after all, it makes a lot more sense that Phichit would be seeking out native speaker Guanghong to translate for him.)

But on the ice, despite their clear friendship off it, their programs either aren’t really connected to other people or aren't connected to love.

Leo’s short program, Still Alive, harnesses his prowess as a choreographer and his connection with and love of music. It’s a program that is very much about him, and what he wants to give to the world. It’s not selfish, but it is self-directed and self-focused, and the focus of the commentary is on Leo’s coolness and ability to switch up choreography to suit the competition from his friends, and about the way music influences Leo and his drive to continue and his courage from Leo himself. It’s about a thing Leo loves and is good at, but not about a person. Leo’s interpretation and self-expression are highlighted, a small parallel with Yuuri being historically noted for having higher PCS than TES; it’s not a large parallel, but it is something you see Yuuri focusing on, and all the skaters focused on here do have things that tie them to Yuuri.

Guanghong’s free skate, Shanghai Blade, is a delve into Guanghong’s thoughts about how to construct a framework for your skate that you can believably sell both to an audience and to yourself, and a look at his own hunger to improve himself and prove his worth in the world of skating. Again, it’s a very self-focused program, and features a brilliant montage of Guanghong’s internal fantasies: himself as an assassin, and then Leo as his ally who Guanghong takes a bullet for. (Also, Georgi as the bad guy. I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh.) It is interesting to note how much admiration Guanghong holds for Leo: he openly comments how cool he thinks Leo is and then fancasts him as his fantasy ally and takes a bullet for him. Even though the program is not about Leo, it is a nice piece of friendship development.

But again: the program is focused on Guanghong’s own imagination, limitations and aspirations, and in terms of the skating, not on anyone else. Now, I said all these six skaters had parallels/foils with Yuuri. Guanghong’s is that little trait of Yuuri’s mentioned in episode 2 and exemplified in episodes 5 and 12: he really, really hates losing. I don’t think in Guanghong’s case it’s hugely significant to Yuuri’s journey, but it is a reminder halfway along the line that losing is frustrating, and eventually that question is posed to Yuuri when Yuri wins the GPF: what do you do when you lose?

(Agree to stay in skating for one more year and compete against your coach/fiance until you win gold at five world championships, that’s what hahahaha.)

Rostelecom Cup

Michele: the foil to Yuuri and his relationship with Victor

I think the most animosity I’ve seen in this series is actually towards Michele, and I can understand why: he’s brash and rude to almost everyone, he’s attached to Sara almost to the point of obsessiveness, and he spends most of his time in a grump. People wonder why the series had such a key focus on him as opposed to, say, Emil or Seung-gil, the other eventual non-GPS finalists at the Rostelecom Cup. And I think there are a number of reasons at play here.

The first is that Michele is basically on par with Yuuri, and could almost be seen as Yuuri’s equal going through this competition. Recall that Michele was also at the GPF the previous year, and came in fifth (so, only just above Yuuri), with a score of about 253, which isn’t really all that high. He doesn’t have many quads, and yet he’s regarded as one of the really good skaters. He’s also the closest in age to Yuuri: 22 to Yuuri’s 23. Michele and Yuuri will have been competing against one another their whole competitive lives. He’s someone who is most likely in Yuuri’s competitive vision.

And recall also that Michele and Yuuri are, on points termed, tied for qualifying for the GPF by the end of the Rostelecom Cup. Yuuri only makes it to the final by virtue of gaining one second placing over Michele’s two third placings, and Yuuri recognises this; he recognises that he was on a knife-edge with regards to placing at this competition because everyone at this competition was on a knife-edge with placing. Michele was the one pre-determined by the creators to gain bronze, and thus there’s just cause for a focus on him.

But also, Michele’s programs are about love. It’s a different kind of love to the romance and Yuuri-and-Victor-something-beyond-coach-student-beyond-mere-lovers that we’ve seen previously. This is familial love, and moreover, it’s sibling love. It’s protective love; and it’s love which is Michele learning about letting go. I think it’s also a foil to where Yuuri and Victor are at this point: where they’ve only been mutually knowing one another and living together for eight months, and realise after a short separation that they basically cannot be apart, that’s how much they love each other and need each other and make each other better, Michele and Sara have spent their entire lives together because… well, because they’re twins and compete in different divisions of the same sport. And after 22 years, Sara knows that she doesn’t need her brother to protect her from bullies anymore, that she has her own desires and goals that are separate to his, and that it’s healthier by far for them to exist independently.

Michele processes this, as so many of the skaters do, through his free skate. He takes the time to process Sara’s message to him, and to process what it says about him and how he needs to act from there. And it’s while he’s going through this mental process and making himself let her go—and thus, actively changing the way he views his love for her and the way he needs to perceive their relationship—that his skating becomes mellower, and he begins to emanate a strong and affecting love that brings Sara to tears as he skates for her for the last time.

Michele is a foil to Yuuri, in short. He has to go on the opposite journey to Yuuri—letting go, as opposed to letting in—and in doing so while being Yuuri’s most constant competitor, falls naturally into the spotlight. Personality-wise, maybe he isn’t widely regarded as a favourite or even particularly likeable in Western fandom. But character-wise and in the way his and Sara’s relationship foils Yuuri and Victor’s, he is important, and definitely important enough to warrant displaying both his skating programs. It's healthy love via independence versus healthy love via interdependence: both options are valid, but which one is the healthier option changes between for different people and different kinds of relationships, and this is so well illustrated here.

Emil and Seung-gil: reflections on some of Yuuri’s indisputable skating strengths and weaknesses

Can I just say, Emil’s theme and music are both AMAZING. (Delving into my own bias but Anastasis is my favourite piece of music from the entire show.) Emil’s competitive but positively competitive: his aim seems to be to make friends with his rivals, and he’s basically focused on running in the Make the Program all about Quads race. He pulls off four quads, including a quad loop for the first time in competition (which, incidentally, is one of the events I think may have thrown off Seung-gil in his free skate).

Although Emil is shown off the ice to goofily and readily attach himself to Mickey and to be someone who loves hugs and generally embodies a light, friendly, open sort of love, his program doesn’t actually reflect this at all: it’s all about bigger and more and ceasing to be human, and the question is whether he can actually pull off his four quads and successfully complete his program. He gets to the end, but falls on two jumps and misses a planned combination, all in the second half; which, incidentally, is Yuuri’s forte, and where Yuuri plans all his big jumps for maximum points value.

Seung-gil performs a program that is based entirely around its objective audience appeal score, and he spends the entire program calculating his base scores in his head. He’s not trying to do a mambo because it has any personal connection or emotional meaning to him; he’s doing it entirely because it will look good and if he can physically interpret it well, up his score goes. He’s the most detached of any of the skaters to the emotive side of skating, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing; after all, strong emotions can get in the way of the technical elements, as we saw when Georgi’s distress caused him to fall landing a jump halfway through his free skate.

But Seung-gil still has emotions under his calculations; he’s shown to be visibly apprehensive and nervous before his free skate, and after it’s over, he starts crying over how badly it went. To come back to my main point, Seung-gil’s focus isn’t even on himself: it’s on his numbers and technical elements, and yet we do get to see a very human, relatable side to him. And with regards to parallels and foils to Yuuri: although Seung-gil’s focus on calculating his element scores aids him in success, it’s this detachment from musical interpretation and focus on points that hinders Yuuri in episode 11 when his short program gets a lower score than usual. Additionally, remember that Yuuri knows very well the pain of losing, the pain of not being able to do your best, and there’s a reason Yuuri’s the one that looks up and focuses on Seung-gil’s upset after his free skate.

I have one further point to make, and this pertains chiefly to Leo, Seung-gil, JJ, and, as it happens, Yuuri. It’s to do with the point I just left off on, and explains in some part why certain programs weren’t featured: what happens when a skater messes up their program really, really badly?

Leo, Seung-gil, Yuuri and JJ: loss through failure and why it isn’t shown onscreen

We know from interviews with Sayokan and Kubo-sensei that Leo messed up a lot of his jumps in his free skate, which eventually put him in eighth place. We see that Seung-gil falls on a quad loop, his signature jump, and gets up with a tight jaw and a look of desperation in his eye before his final, very low score is revealed. And we all know that Yuuri came in sixth at the GPF the previous year; that he was grieving for his dog and that he messed up his jumps; consider that the only shots we get of Yuuri’s GPF free skate are those of his falls. This is also likely in part because Yuuri is a horrifically unreliable narrator and wouldn’t want to show us the things he did well; whether he even remembers the things he did well is a mystery.

But apart from that, I recall something Kubo-sensei once said: she didn’t want to portray injuries on the show, because she didn’t want an angsty show (or something to that effect). And in a similar vein, imagine what it would be like if we saw characters fall from multiple jumps and grow visibly more distressed throughout their programs. It would be uncomfortable to watch and it would hurt to watch—we’d be in the same distress we might be in if we saw characters get injured. Yes, there are programs where Yuuri has a lot of flubbed jumps, but he usually has a broader focus, a more secure mental outlook, or Victor does most of the narration there; Yuuri flubbing his jumps isn’t intended to make us or him angst, but to help push his character development. The one time we see a program really go wrong is JJ’s GPF short program, where he unintentionally downgrades all his jumps and basically has a panic attack on the ice. And it’s really powerful to watch, because this is the first time we’ve actually witnessed someone messing up to this extent.

I think Kubo-sensei and Sayokan are trying, in part, to preserve the characters’ dignity when they fail. You don’t always need to see what happened to understand what probably happened and to feel for the pain it caused. And by showing glimpses of what can happen when you mess up, but only glimpses, they then set a really good scene for giving us JJ messing up and what the repercussions of that are. And, as ever, it leads back to Yuuri and his journey: he recognises that this is in a way similar to how he messed up the previous year, but also recognises that JJ isn’t giving up or letting himself become defeated on the ice the way Yuuri did. The other failures tie in less closely (or not at all) with Yuuri’s storyline; therefore, there isn’t a reason to show them.

In conclusion...

The most significant parts of Yuri!!! on Ice are Yuuri’s journey through improving his skating, and the development of Yuuri and Victor’s relationship; thus, the other skating programs that take the focus in the limited amount of screentime available become the ones which bear the greatest significance to where Yuuri and Victor’s relationship is currently at in the storyline. Georgi and Michele, in their respective journeys in love, provide the clearest parallel and foil respectively to Yuuri and Victor’s relationship at the competitions; and accordingly, their skating programs get more screentime than those of the other non-GPS finalist characters.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Everybody Loves a Clown- Part 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,300

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual,

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Please, if you want to be tagged for this series, let me know and I’ll add you! If you want to be tagged for my other fics, I’ll add you! I want to hear what you guys think about this. If you want something requested, send it in!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

.

You got to the carnival the next morning and the minivan was squeaking as Dean stopped it.

“God, I hate this car. I want my car.” Dean complained, stepping out.

“Dean, with me helping, you’ll be able to finish that beauty in no time.” You said, holding his hand. Dean wasn’t really big on public affection but he always wanted to be touching you. He didn’t want you to leave him. After that incident at the hospital, you wouldn’t let go of him.

“True, you’re almost as good as me.” Dean smiled.

“I learned from the best.” You leaned up and kissed his cheek. Dean chuckled and you looked at what he was looking at. A three-foot woman in a clown suit was walking past you two and then past Sam. Sam was stiff, his hands were in his pockets and he gulped as she passed.

Aw, poor Sammy. You honestly felt bad for him. The woman stared at Sam for a moment too long before passing him by completely. Sam let out a huge breath that he was holding.

“Don’t be scared, Sam, they won’t bite. Unless you ask.” You giggled.

“Go screw yourself.” Sam said, agitated. He turned away with a roll of his eyes and you smiled.

“I’m teasing, Sam. Live a little.” You giggled.

“Were there more murders?” Sam asked, dropping that topic.

“Two more last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them.” Dean explained.

“Who was with a clown.” Sam nodded, thinking.

“Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air.”

“Guys, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything.” You sighed, wondering where to start.

“Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything.” Dean shrugged, thinking of a simple way.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind three strangers with a weird device, scanning anything. How are we going to blend in?” You asked, looking between both boys.

“I have an idea. Follow me.” Dean let go of your hand and walked to a tent with a sign that read ‘Help Wanted… s. Cooper’.

“If there is a clown position, I vote Sam.” You called out, giggling at the scowl you received. You walked into the tent and frowned when you felt a strong force pass through your body. You looked at a blind man who was throwing knives at a target; all of them missing the red circle. That force was never a good thing. Your supernatural radar was going off.

“Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?” Dean asked the man, not realizing he was blind.

“What is that, some kind of joke?” The man turned and took his glasses off, revealing he was blind.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Dean immediately apologized.

“You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr. Cooper? Or a sunset, or anything at all?” The man said, getting angry. Damn, it was just a mistake.

“Wanna give me a little help here?” Dean asked his brother. Sam smirked and shook his head. Dean glared at him and a very short man walked into the room. Some may think he was a midget.

“He, is there a problem?” He asked.

“Yeah, this guy hates blind people.” The blind man spoke. What the hell was going on?

“No, I don’t…” Dean tried to say.

“Hey buddy, what's your problem?” The short guy asked, glaring at Dean.

“Nothing, just a little misunderstanding.” Dean chuckled nervously. Sam was trying real had not to laugh and you were trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with the blind man. You were staring at him and he looked at you. Yes, he was blind but you felt as if he was actually staring at you.

“Little?! You son of a bitch!” The short guy said angrily.

“No, no, no, no! I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr. Cooper is?” Dean pleaded. Sam laughed and you looked away from the blind man to look at the short man.

“He’s in there.” The short man scolded. You’ve never seen Dean get out of a room that fast before. Sam snickered as he followed. You sighed and shook your head before following him.

“Hi, Mr. Cooper? We say your help wanted sign outside and we were interested.” Dean said upon walking in.

“You picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat.” Mr. Cooper said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk. Dean was quick to take the normal chair, leaving Sam to take the pink clown faced chair. Sam glared at his older brother before reluctantly siting on the chair.

You entered the room and smiled at the man who brought up another normal looking chair for you. You sat next to Dean and crossed your legs.

“We've got all kinds of local trouble.” Mr. Cooper started.

“What do you mean?’ Dean asked, pretending not to know.

“Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?”

“Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas.” Sam lied.

“Doing what? Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men? What about you, little lady? What did you do?”

“A little bit of knife play. I have a mean throw.” You smirked. Part of that was a lie but you really did have a mean throw. Sam and Dean have both been on the receiving end of said throw before.

“Right, that's good. But you two never worked in a show in your lives before, have you?” He seemed to believe you because you were giving off loads of confidence. Confidence is key and Sam and Dean didn’t have that. You figured Dean was thrown off by the two men from earlier and Sam because of the clown chair he was sitting in.

“Nope. But we really need the work. Oh, and uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady.” Dean smirked, pointing to his brother.

“You see that picture? That's my daddy.” Mr. Cooper said, pointing to a big portrait above his head.

“You look just like him.” You said, giving an awkward smile.

“He was in the business and ran a freakshow. Until they outlawed them, in most places. Apparently, displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But you two? You should go to school. Find a couple of girls, get yourself a man. Have two point five kids. Live regular.” Mr. Cooper said, leaning back.

Oh, sweetie, I have myself a man.

“Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this.” Sam said before anyone else could speak. You and Dean looked at him and wondered if he was speaking to convince Mr. Cooper or if he really didn’t want to go back to school.

“Fine, welcome aboard. It’ll take a few hours to get everything finalized so hang out until that happens.” You stood up and left with the men, passing by the blind guy. You frowned, looking at him, that strong force coming back. Something wasn’t right with him and it wasn’t the blindness.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean grabbed your hand and led you out of the tent.

“Dean, something was up with that man. I think it may be that supernatural ability we talked about.” You whispered to him.

“We’ll check it out, I promise.” Dean assured you. You nodded and caught up with Sam.

“So, Sam, what’s with that whole ‘I don’t want to go back to school’ thing? Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?” You asked, dropping the subject of the blind man.

“I don’t know.” Sam said quietly.

“You don't know? I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State.” Dean said.

“I’m having second thoughts,” Sam shrugged. “I think dad would have wanted me to stick with the job.”

“Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam.” Dean argued.

“Please, don’t fight. We don’t need this right now” You butted in, stepping between the boys. Both of them immediately backed off and didn’t say a word. You sighed, not knowing what to do.

It’s been a few hours and Mr. Cooper gave you all uniforms to wear. Luckily for Sam, they were only standard uniforms and not clown ones. Sam was instructed to go into the Fun House while you and Dean were to pick up trash on the outside. This wasn’t ideal but it got you inside the carnival to work.

Since Sam was the one inside the places, he had the EMF meter with him and you and Dean were waiting on the call from him.

Suddenly, Dean's phone rang and he answered it, putting it on speakerphone. Didn’t even check to make sure if anyone was listening or not.

“Hey, Sam, what do you got?” You asked.

“I just saw a skeleton here in the funhouse. Listen, I was thinking. What if the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object -- what if it's attached to its own remains?”

“Like a real human skeleton? Do the bones give off EMF?” You wondered.

“Well, no.”

“We should check it out anyway. We’re heading to you.” Dean hung up and was about to leave when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You gasped, feeling a very powerful chill go down your spine. You turned around to see the blind man there.

“What are you doing here, kids?” He scolded.

“Sweeping.” Dean said, looking at you. You widened your eyes and nodded, motioning to the man.

‘I don’t like him.’ You mouthed at Dean. He nodded and understood what you were saying.

“Bull. And what were you talking about? Skeletons? What's EMF?” The blind man asked too many questions.

“Dude, your blind man hearing is out of control.” Dean said. You managed to get out of his grasp and you back into Dean who put a protective arm around you.

“We're a tight-knit group. We don't like outsiders. We take care of our own problems.”

“Are you threatening us?” You asked the man.

“You tell me. You’re the one talking about human bones.” You looked up at Dean with a panicked look. He better do something.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Dean asked the man.

“What?”

“My brother and me... umm. We're writing a book about them.” Dean chuckled.

“Yeah, you must have overheard us talking about that stuff. We want to be writers and this seemed like a pretty good topic to write about.” You added, wanting to get away from him.

“Right.” The blind man nodded, walking off. You could tell he didn’t believe you for a second.

“Dean, it’s him. If he isn’t the clown himself, he’s involved.” You whispered, looking up at Dean.

“Let’s go find Sam. Maybe he might know more about it.” You nodded and held onto Dean’s hand as he led you to the funhouse.

“What took you so long?” Sam asked when you approached him. Before anyone could answer, a little girl was squealing with happiness. The carnival was crowded with people so you were used to the squealing but what she said caught your attention.

“Mommy, look at the clown!” You looked in the direction that she was looking but you saw nothing.

“Come on, sweetie, there is no clown there.” Her mother took her away and you gulped.

“Sam, we should really talk somewhere else.” You looked at the brothers and they nodded. You finished up the shift quickly, the day had turned to night. You hated working for other people. You liked hunting. You didn’t have to abide by anyone else besides yourself.

“Sam, I think that blind man is the clown. I had a chilling feeling when he put his hand on me.” You said when you were safe in the car.

“If that’s true, let’s go check out that family. That little girl was hell bent on seeing a clown.” You nodded and Sam told him where to go. Apparently, Sam already got the child’s address easily. You didn’t know how he did it and frankly, you didn’t care to know.

So, when it got really dark, you, Sam and Dean were staking out that house.

“You want to know the lie Dean told that blind freak?” You said to Sam in the backseat.

“What did he do this time?” Sam chuckled.

“He told him that you two were writing a book. About ghosts. He overheard us speaking about human remains and EMF.” You said.

“Wow Dean. How did that go?’ Sam chuckled.

“Shut up.” Dean grumbled.

“So, you think the Blind man is the clown?” Sam asked you.

“Yeah. Why would a blind man be throwing knives? I don’t think he’s really blind either. I think that is what he wants everyone to think. When he touched me, I got this chill that he wasn’t human. I can’t explain it unless you’re inside my body.” You sighed.

“Sweetheart, I’ve never felt this chill.” Dean smirked.

“Dean, can you focus right now?” Sam said, getting the little innuendo. You blushed furiously and bit your lip, not looking at Dean.

“I can’t believe we’re hunting a clown down.” Dean said, leaning back on the seat.

Forever and ever:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister@kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes@roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose@cobrakai1967 @essie1876 @innernightwerewolf @wishedworld@justanotherdeangirl @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus@nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265@starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja  @deans-fallen-angel-boy@scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6@roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45@crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @spn-applepie-imagines @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid

Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-applepie-imagines @tahbehonest @carribear31 @tacklesackles

[elvirablanche]

No Rest For the Wicked -Self-Para / Update

Elvira counted out the Order members who kept a vigilant eye on the streets below. There were roughly a half-dozen of them, four of which were known to her from the previous accounts of her Death Eaters. Though they looked common and insignificant, they had proven to be rather troublesome targets to catch. But send in a mild threat and an easy invitation for disguises and those good-for-nothings were sure to come running for their noble cause. The witch looked at her own troops for the evening- she had at least twice as many men and women at her disposal, plus herself. The mission couldn’t have been easier even if she had willed it. 

“The Mudbloods will be dealt with later. Focus on taking down as many of the Order’s numbers as possible. No survivors.” She murmured to them, waiting until the crowds below were large enough before she gave them the signal to begin their mission. Black cloaks and silver masks flew into the middle of the streets, curses flying in all number of directions as the Death Eaters closed in on their prey. Screams erupted from wizards and Muggles alike as the confusion and lights were followed by the sight of people dropping to the ground like flies. As anticipated, the Order members pulled out their wands, immediately casting protective charms and distracting spells in order to protect the fleeing civilians.

What the Order did not expect was for the Death Eaters to separate them from one another, a pair targeting each specific member of the rebellious group, save for Elvira’s specific choice. The wizard that she had selected for her message was a rather delectable target, and even without her Legilimency, it was easy to tell who he was with that flaming red hair. “Arthur Weasley, isn’t it? Dear Lucius has said so much about you. You’re a traitor to your own kind, a muggle lover.“ Elvira sneered, a binding hex flying towards her target with alarming accuracy,

To his credit, he didn’t flinch at her, deflecting her spell and sending one at her in kind. He only raised his chin up a little higher as he accepted her challenge. “You almost make it sound like a bad thing. Unfortunately, your attack on the fine Muggles of London ends here.” 

A Disarming Spell was sent towards the witch and was countered without so much as a second thought. She practically laughed at his face at his ridiculous declaration, shaking her head with amusement.  “My dear, we’re not here for the Muggles. We’re here for you.“ The witch sent a series of spells towards him, viciously lashing out without providing the Weasley with much room to retaliate.

Admittedly, Weasley was not nearly as terrible a duelist as she had anticipated. Years of confronting Death Eaters seemed to have given him some level of ability in countering her wide variety of hexes and spells. Elvira frowned, recognizing that the more time she wasted with him, the likelier it was that reinforcements would soon come his way. That simply wouldn’t do. Thinking quickly, she changed targets to one of the many Muggles who were fleeing the scene, casting a curse that would surely kill them. As anticipated, the wizard screamed out. “No!” His attention left her in favor of the Muggle and there, an opening presented itself just as he cast a Shield Charm upon them. What a typical bleeding heart Gryffindor; a complete disgrace to Purebloods everywhere. Elvira pounced on his moment of distraction with a well-timed spell.

“Confringo!“

A blast of heat shot out of her wand, hitting the Order member right in the chest and sending him flying several meters away. Even across the sounds of chaos, she could hear the telltale sign of ribs cracking as Arthur Weasley smacked into a brick wall. The wand that had previously protected him has flown from his hand, landing just at her feet. It snapped easily beneath her shoe, letting out a few measly sparks in its passing. Its owner in question groaned, attempting to get up and failing as his bones creaked in protest. He had nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide from her. All that remained was the kill itself- to symbolize his organization’s fall from grace.

Elvira crouched down to look at the fallen wizard, shaking her head in a mocking display of regret. It was over, and they both knew that there was no escape for the Order member. No, a wizard like this has only one fate left for him, after all he had done to defy her master. “What a waste. Your family would have gone far had it not been for your disgusting attachment to Muggles. It almost pains me to spill such pure blood.“

Arthur stared back at her defiantly. “Pure blood has nothing to do with a person’s character. You’re so blinded by what Voldemort says that you don’t even realize that your numbers grow thinner by the day. And for good reason-“ He let out a wheeze as Elvira kicked him in the ribs, her wand threatening the space between his eyes.

“You aren’t worthy to speak his name you filthy blood traitor.“ She hissed, a curse lingering on her tongue as he tsked at her. The insolence!

It took him some time to regain his breath, yet her anger didn’t stop him from talking. “How many of those Muggles have escaped during this thrilling conversation of ours?“

The peculiar question caught her off-guard, and she found herself replying in a carefully measured tone. “Enough. What does it matter?“

“Because they matter.” What was stranger was the fact that Arthur dared to smile at her, seemingly satisfied. “You’ll regret underestimating them one day, you know.“

The witch stared at him coldly, inclining her head ever so slightly. How typical of a blood traitor to remain defiant to the end; it was almost admirable. "We’ll see about that. Goodbye, Mr. Weasley. It has been a pleasure." She brought a hand up to his cheek, savoring the thrum of life beneath her fingers as she brought her wand up to his temple.

“Avada Kedavra“

Elvira watched with childlike fascination as a comforting burst of green overwhelmed her vision, extinguishing the light that lay in the wizard’s defiant gaze. She greedily sucked in the last vestiges of warmth from her newest corpse, reluctantly parting ways from him as she heard Goyle Sr. shouting out her name across the newly born battlefield. The others had succeeded in their mission as well, adding five more to their overall body count for the evening. The witch let out a huff of annoyance, but decided to cut her quiet gloating short, opting instead to take advantage of her latest boon. After all, anything less than complete and total dominance over the entirety of London would hardly be acceptable.

She placed her wand at her throat, casting a tacit Amplifying Charm so that her voice rang loud and clear to all those in her vicinity. “As you can see around you, the Order has broken against the might of Lord Voldemort and his faithful servants. Starting tonight, things will now be run differently.“ Elvira paused, lips curling into a vicious grin as she drove her heel into Mr. Weasley’s chest. “These attempts to usurp our lord and master will no longer be tolerated with the same graciousness as He has shown to you all these past few months. Any who do so much as think to defy him will be brought to justice swiftly and without mercy, just like dear Arthur here. Consider this your final warning, the Order of the Phoenix cannot protect you from us.“ Or namely, from her. With that said, she aimed towards the sky, the Dark Mark rising into the air for all to see.

Her Lord deserved nothing but the best.

[syncogon]

Some Chinese Cartoons

[Disclaimer: this was addressed to one specific person. I’ll make a better post one day.]

One day I’ll add pics and make this actually formal and stuff. But for now...

我为歌狂/Music Up:

Summary: Two musically talented, insanely popular high school guys - but that’s about all they have in common. In fact, they hate each other’s guts. And yet, through complicated circumstances, they and two others join to form a four-man band, “OPEN.” Both individually and as a band, they face a variety of problems: financial, academic, familial, romantic, and everything in between, in order to pursue their dreams. (52 eps)

Commentary: This is set in modern(ish) day, real world. Made in 2001, so keep that mind when considering the animation quality. They do have a lot of good songs, since this IS a show about singers and pop bands. Overall the tone is pretty light. Some things are a lot more dramatic than they need to be but that’s fantastic. And a lot of the problems are highly relatable. Development of characters and relationships is def one of the selling points. HUGELY nostalgic for me and a lot of Chinese people it seems haha

Links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLkMLYnt73g the second opening.

战龙四驱/Go For Speed:

Summary: Two years ago, the genius high schooler Fei won the minicar (4WD) racing Nationals. But only shortly afterward, he disappeared, with only a short note hinting at why. Now, his younger brother Dragon follows in his footsteps, designing and creating his own minicars to compete in the tournaments and steadily working his way up through the rankings. Along the way, he meets many people, makes friends and enemies, and struggles to find Fei and his reason for leaving. (64 eps)

Commentary: Modern/slightly future-day, real world (Shanghai!!). Okay so this show is based around like the gimmick of “minicar racing” - not sure what to really call it. The races are surprisingly fun to watch actually imo, with the technological abilities of the minicars, interactions between players, and obstacles to pass... but you’d probably have to decide that for yourself. For me, the biggest draw was probably the surprising number of subplots, which explore the complex relationships between all the characters - literally every single side character is well established and developed. Family and familial relationships play a pretty big role. Revenge and forgiveness are there too. I got hooked into this show when it was airing on TV solely because of one character haha. Caveat that it starts slow, I don’t know how much you’d actually like this, there needs to be some suspension of disbelief, and the animation quality isn’t fantastic… rip

Links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gb0tHRbyaek&index=30&list=PLQukwpGC9a0wfDv0ymEgGX-LydTKbZY_s (a trailer, in english for some reason even though i’ve never found an english dubbed version of this and don’t want to. It mostly focuses on the racing aspect, but as before, don’t let that fool you, it’s surprisingly deep. Come for the races, stay for the chars)

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQukwpGC9a0zqrmIGCXOW1QVlfh6svY7y since when was this on youtube?? :o WAIT HOLY SHIT SINCE WHEN DOES THIS HAVE ENGLISH SUBS THIS IS A GAME CHANGER AAAAA NOW LIKE I MIGHT GO REWATCH THIS - just kidding, only the first episode. Man what a letdown

弹珠传说/Danzhu Legend:

Summary: This is a world where people have Danzhu battles: competitions involving channeling your magic energy into Shooters to launch marble-like Danzhu at targets. These objects have great power, but, so far, no one has decided to take advantage of it… until now. One day, a young boy who has always dreamed of becoming a Danzhu battler is chosen by one of the five Legendary Shooters. He journeys into the mountains to seek training from the Danzhu Master, where he meets the other four Legendary wielders and learns that their job is to stop the evil threatening to take over their world. (52 eps)

Commentary: Fantasy world. So this is like your pretty standard “boy discovers power and works to save the world” story, but still enjoyable in its own right. The gimmick of this are the aforementioned Danzhu. The Guardians are also very important; all Shooters are linked to a spiritual animal/creature/something that’s the basis of power. The battles are all very cool! Quick disclaimer: for various reasons I am more familiar with this show than maybe any other of the ones here. This fact made me appreciate how much potential this story had, but also made me realize all of its flaws. There are a lot of things it could have done better - character development jumps to mind, because aside from the MC and one of the antagonists, most of them don’t change all that much. Also there’s lots of recycled animation. Just keep these caveats in mind. However, I still found the adventure/plot/magic very exciting to watch, a healthy dose of idealism and humor as well as tension/smarts/raw courage, so if you’re interested in that aspect more, I’d recommend this!

Links: ALL THE EPISODES ARE ON YOUTUBE ONCE MORE PRAISE this is very helpful for me because when i needed them to be on youtube, someone had like taken all of them down, which was very upsetting, but now they are back again, glorious

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wvQUvsPwKA0&list=PLZKi4aAqJS8dbVOUrKnDqNU4F4rnm8Ott playlist isn’t in order but you should watch the opening theme to get a feel for it - if you want even more of a feel, watch to 4:50, which is kinda like a prologue and a better summary of what I said above lol

开心宝贝/Happy Heroes:

Summary: Just read what’s on tvtropes tbh haha (link below) (Ongoing, 10 seasons, 52 eps each (except season 8 which was 40 eps) )

Commentary: Imo the best seasons were 3, 5, 6, and 8. After 8 the animation style changed a bit and the humor quality kinda went down…well, that might just be me, though. Either way, though, there are so many amazing earlier episodes, and I’ve gotten really attached to all the characters. It being a kids show, there’s no super deep plot or lasting impact of anything (aside from the last arc of season 7, heh. I remember watching when it came out in 2014 and flipping out bc I did NOT expect that, knowing HH) but it’s still thoroughly enjoyable. There are also two movies: the second movie is kinda confusing and meh but the first movie is pretty good and I think you can find it on youtube. In fact I believe all the episodes are on youtube, but I imagine you have those links already

Links: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKA3CuHXUxHflv9KAgEJyKQ is the channel with everything. Watch the trailer for season 8! It’s v epic and got me hyped when it released.

Tvtropes: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Animation/HappyHeroes

Movie 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUiA3nue22Y. (there are english subs too! haha)

Movie 2 isn’t worth watching trust me

星游记/Rainbow Sea:

Summary: Years ago, a man dressed in all red made a declaration to the universe: behind the largest black hole was a mysterious place called Rainbow Sea, a place where any dream could be fulfilled. Enchanted by the stories, people from across the universe joined the man in red in his journey. Unfortunately, no one ever returned. Rainbow Sea was scoffed at as a myth and a lie. The man in red was cursed, nicknamed by people as the Red Demon. The sinister organization known as the Galactic Eyes quietly gained control of the Solar System and numerous other star systems, sealing off the planet where the Red Demon had come from, Earth, and forbidding any ships from entering or leaving. Now, ten years later, the Red Demon's son Maidang has reached adolescence and is determined to fulfill the pinky promise made to his father before he left: to reunite with him at Rainbow Sea.

Commentary: Quality stuff right here. Best part is the backstories of all these characters, there’s some really moving stuff. The characters are p great - Maidang is so inspiring, Gudong is highly relatable, Diya is awesome... The art style (esp for their eyes) is really nice. ...Not much else to say off the top of my head, esp since the story is far from over, but even if it starts off slow, this is definitely worth your time!

Links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SiB_oZBdi7k&list=PLF068DA90359EDE0D all the episodes. The opening theme/sequence was what got me hooked, you should def watch it (up to like 1:20 or whatever, then if you want like a prologue watch to like 3:07)

26 eps so far. Season 2 and after are apparently going to be “web movies” instead of episodes, something like 60 minutes each, and will cost money (rip) but I’m sure they’ll show up for free somewhere eventually. Fingers crossed this’ll be soon. Wanna join me in hiatus hell :DD

神魄/Zinba:

Summary: Kan is happily chatting with his closest friend on an ordinary school day when, all of a sudden, he finds himself pulled into an alternate fantasy world. This world is filled with Zinba, large and powerful creatures that may form bonds with select humans, called Linkers, for immense battle power. After becoming a Linker with one of the strongest Zinba ever to exist, Kan joins the peacekeeping Dux force of the kingdom of Toria and fights against the various evils threatening the land, all while trying to find his way back to his own world. (52 eps)

Commentary: Okay, so you know, I wouldn’t recommend this as much as some of the others on this list, esp since it’s the most recent Chinese show I actually watched, but it made enough of an impact on me to have it worth talking about. I started watching bc a) it showed up as recommended for me on youtube, b) the opening is SICK as HECK, and c) the protag of this is voiced by the same person as the protag of DZL, and generally looks/acts kinda similar haha. Anyway, overall thoughts: basically, it had a lot of unrealized potential. The world and the character designs are AMAZING. I liked the animation. The plot is interesting, with a surprising number of plot twists as to who’s the real ultimate villain. But there could have been So Much More development – we could’ve gotten more thorough backstories for the main crew, for example, or seen more of the world/magic/tech, but instead a lot of the people as well as Zinba just… exist, as static and boring entities. There were like two interesting characters total (Kan’s aforementioned “normal” friend being one of them heh). Kan himself was suuuuper annoying, esp at the beginning. (can you tell I really appreciate/prioritize the characters of a show?) However, some moments were quite well done and epic, and I wrote some fanfiction and commentary on basically every episode, so it holds a place in my heart. Also, there is a full English dub lmaooo (the voices suck but the translations for names/places/etc are interesting) (episode 1 has 318k views??? That’s a TON for a chinese cartoon)

Links: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9G83STZ9xcc the opening which is good and worth watching, https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQukwpGC9a0xatMI-KGO9SILZ5sSWfWXX full playlist, syncogon.tumblr.com/tagged/zinba lol

[musingsdeme]

Silly Love Songs

There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala. There have been exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in that box since Dean was twenty-five and bought a copy of Abbey Road and Combat Rock from a record store in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Most of the tapes were John’s, inherited right alongside the Impala, the soundtrack of a life on the road: Motorhead and Lynyrd Skynyrd; Black Sabbath and The Kinks; there’s even some Springsteen in there that Dean is pretty sure belonged to his mom before everything went to hell. Dean (and even Sam) can pick some of them out without even looking: Kashmir’s label has worn off from being handled so many times; Back in Black has a noticeable chip in the left corner; Heaven and Hell is weirdly heavier than the rest. Dean’s lived by this music; driven back and forth across the country to the sounds of those tapes. There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala, until one day, there are exactly twenty-three.

ao3

Dean discovers the twenty-third tape on a Tuesday evening in May. The weather is turning swiftly towards summer; there’s a heavy golden glow hanging in the air from the setting sun, it smells like earth and light when he steps outside the bunker, climbs in the Impala, and rolls down the windows. It’s almost eighty still and it’s the perfect weather for grilling up some burgers, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do. Dean’s got a smile on his face as he heads to the grocery store. There’s a lot to celebrate. The Mark of Cain is long gone, Cas is human (of his own choice) and more relaxed than Dean’s ever seen him, Sammy is not in any kind of danger or trouble (in fact, when Dean headed out the kid was happily geeking out over some boring shit in the Men of Letters archives). If they kept a kept a tally (which they would never do for fear of calling down catastrophe) it would proudly declare that IT HAS BEEN [37] DAYS SINCE OUR LAST LIFE, DEATH, OR HELLISH FATE SITUATION. That’s something to be damn happy about.

On the way to Trader Joe’s, Dean listens the steady rumble of the engine. He drums his fingers on window ledge, reviews his mental grocery list, and smiles at nothing. He’s been doing that a lot lately: smiling at nothing, humming even, bouncing on the balls of his feet, laughing. It’s partially because there isn’t some arcane brand on his forearm making him want to kill everything in sight, but it also has a lot to do with the fact that he kissed Cas for the first time thirty-seven days ago.

They were bloody and exhausted, sweating, and covered in ash in the wake of the ritual that cured Dean, laying grace against the mark, cleansing his soul of the curse. They were lying there, tears in both their eyes, on the floor of the dungeon. Cas had laid his fingers against Dean’s cheek, a whisper of a touch, and Dean had closed his eyes, overcome with Cas’ gentleness, letting it radiate through his whole body.

He didn’t run away like he had some many times before, afraid, embarrassed, undeserving. Instead, for the first time, Dean let himself lean into Cas’ touch. Unhindered by bloodlust, everything else flooded to the surface—affection and relief and gratitude—it was all right there in front of him. For the first time in a long, long time, Dean felt alive. Miraculously, fully, alive, and, buoyed by that heady sensation, he reached out for Cas, when so many times before he had flinched away. Dean laid a heavy, shaky hand against Cas’ hair and he smiled through a broken cheekbone and a bloody mouth. Cas’ eyes shown bright and full and so damn relieved, so damn happy. He leaned forward, and Dean met him half way and it was the most fucking amazing, wonderful moment that Dean had ever had in his whole life.

So yeah, on this bright sunny evening in early summer, Dean has a lot of things to be happy about, and a pretty sizable chunk of those things include Cas: Cas at his side, Cas in his bed, Cas smiling more, Cas frowning less, Cas stealing his clothes, Cas drinking coffee, Cas holding him at night. Dean is almost forty but he feels so light, so airy, he swears sometimes he could fly.

He whistles his way through the grocery store. Loading his cart with ground chuck and freshly baked burger buns, sweet potatoes and bell peppers and onions, tomatoes, cheddar cheese. He grabs a pineapple and some blueberries (for pancakes tomorrow), remembers to grab the granola and Greek yogurt Sam asked for, and the Orange-Mango juice that Cas is crazy about. He waits in line, making funny faces at the toddler in the cart in front of him and making small talk with her mother. He pays and loads everything into brown paper bags and then into the trunk. He twirls the keys around his fingers and slides behind the wheel.

“Time to get home, Baby,” he says, patting the wheel.

It’s at that moment, on this beautiful Tuesday evening in May, with the sun shining and the Impala loaded down with groceries, that Dean decides what his ride home needs is some tunes. He reaches into that old shoebox ready to let chance decide what he’ll listen to, expecting something familiar, but his hand grabs a tape that he doesn’t recognize.

He at first thinks that Sam’s tried to sneak some Indie crap into his sacred space, but when he pulls out the tape, the writing across the front is not Sam’s messy scrawl, it’s the sharp, slightly slanted lines that belong to Cas. All in capital letters, precise and pointed, the label reads FOR DEAN.

Dean’s heart jumps immediately to his throat, where it beats much faster than normal. There is a rubber band wrapped around the tape to keep a folded piece of paper attached. With trembling hands, Dean removes the rubber band and unfolds the paper. He half expects it to be a track list, but what he finds is Cas’ tightly packed writing filling the page from top to bottom.

“Dean,” it reads, “please, play the tape and read along.” The ‘and’ has been underlined enough that Dean can see the glare that Cas would use to punctuate if he were speaking aloud.

Dean turns the tape over in his fingers, bites his bottom lip. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump. His palms are damp and he shakes his head.

“Nut up, Winchester,” he mutters and he shoves the tape into the deck.

It takes a few seconds to start playing, but when it does, Dean can’t help it, he laughs; it’s a strange, strangled, wet laugh. Fucking Jason Mraz. Really, Cas? Does that make Dean Colbie Caillat? He shakes his head bemusedly, and rubs his eyes before he reads what Cas wrote:

“1. I would like to think that the reason that I included this song on this tape is obvious, but, in case that it is not, I wish to make it abundantly clear how lucky I feel to be in love with my best friend. You are the dearest and best friend that I have ever known in all my incredibly long life, to share not only this profound bond, but also the deep and abiding love that I feel for you is a gift that I had never hoped to experience, never thought to experience, and I am incredibly grateful to have the privilege of loving you as our relationship has evolved to include numerous forms of love: friendship, camaraderie, family, and romantic affection.”

“Jesus Christ, Cas, you can’t just say shit like that,” Dean grips the steering wheel, realizing that’s probably why Cas wrote it down.

It continues like that, for every song on the tape, Cas has written a note explaining why it’s there, what it has to do with him and what it has to do with Dean and, most importantly, what it has to do with the two of them together. The notes are earnest, they’re heartfelt, and they keep Dean oscillating between muffled laughter and silent tears.

Dean listens and he reads; he follows along right down the line.

“2. Given that we did, quite literally, find love in the most hopeless of places (I’m referring to Hell, though a case could also be made for Purgatory and some rather difficult situations on Earth) and times (the Apocalypse comes time mind), I thought that this song was apt. I don’t know that I have ever told you this (indeed, I know I haven’t, fearful of how you would react), but I loved you the first time I beheld you, Dean. Your soul shown so brightly amongst the desolation of that place, and when I held you in my grace I was changed fundamentally from the being I once was. I have never felt so close to another.”

Dean has to wipe his eyes and sniff, “C’mon, man.”

When he hears the third song, he laughs.

“3. I understand that you have a deep, abiding (and partially clandestine) love of Taylor Swift. I was hard-pressed to choose amongst her many works (all of which are quite catchy). This, however, seemed most appropriate as one of your most admirable qualities is your ability to ‘shake off’ the burdens that the world and fate have presented to you, and continually find beauty and joy in spite of hardship.”

“4. Dean, I would very much like to hold your hand every day for the rest of my human life. Nothing would bring me more happiness than to share this and other simple pleasures with you.”

“You’re such a damn sap, Cas,” he mumbles, wishing Cas were with him, wishing he could hold his hand through this, rub his thumb against Cas’ palm, press a kiss against his knuckles.

Boyz II Men sings “I’ll Make Love to You” as the fifth song, and Dean rolls his eyes and smiles when Cas uses his notation to basically quote the whole damn thing, with particular emphasis on holding Dean all through the night.

Dean is chuckling to himself when he flips the tape.

Elvis is in sixth place:

“6. Dean, I could not help but fall in love with you, with the beautify of your soul, with the strength of your character, with your capacity for love and you abidingly loyalty, with your laugh and your smile, with your stubbornness and your passion, with your compassion, with your capacity for forgiveness and your willingness to give all that you have to those you love. I did not know at first that that is what I felt for you, others realized it long before I did, and they did, in fact, try to stop me from falling in love with you. They tried many, many times, but no one could ever break that bond, Dean. You and I, we are stronger when we are together, the ties that bind us are far greater than any scheme or machination that they have yet to concoct on any realm of existence. And I will continue to love you and fall in love with you every day”

Dean thinks about Zachariah, about Naomi, about Cas hiding in Purgatory, and Dean’s own bullshit. He thinks about all the crazy, stupid shit that’s come between them and all the stupid, crazy shit they’ve overcome, and it’s suddenly crystal clear how many times Dean has fallen in love with Cas, with his gentle hands and fierce spirit, with his strength and faith and determination; how he has always, always been there when Dean needed him.

REO Speedwagon comes on next.

“7. I feel this song encapsulates much of what I’ve experienced in the past few years. It was difficult to ‘hold back’ how I felt for you, even more difficult to express the depth of the affection that I carried for you in a way that I thought you would accept. I am happy that we no longer have to ‘fight this feeling” but can, instead, embrace it.”

When One Direction comes on Dean is startled into a laugh.

“8. Despite the inherent paradox in the lyrics, I thought of you when I first heard this song. It seems so often you undervalue your worth, undervalue that which makes you truly beautiful, and it pains me (and also Sam and all those who care for you) to see you be so unaware of and so cavalier with your person. You are the most beautiful soul I have ever beheld and I wish you could see how I see you. You glow Dean, you are ethereal, you are the sun.”

Chicago is next with “Just You’N’Me,” and for the second time, Cas, uses his allotted space to basically quote the entire thing (“You are my love in my life, Dean, you are my inspiration”). “You Make Me Feel So Young” follows (“I have never known what it was to be young, to feel youthful, or carefree. For something as old as I, literally older than dirt, youth seems a alien sensation, but, when I am with you, I feel a sense of wonder and excitement that I have never before known. I see things differently, I experience things differently, and for the first time. It is a gift.”)

The last song plays “A Thousand Years” and Cas writes simply: “I have loved you with all that I am, and will continue to do so as long as even a part of me exists in this, or any, universe”.

When the tape stops, Dean is left in silence. There are tears on his face and his heart is a slow, steady, painful beat in his chest. He feels overwhelmed, filled to the brim, shaking, and all he can say is “Christ, Cas.”

He wipes his eyes, clears his throat, and heads for home.

*

He doesn’t bother unloading the groceries when he gets there. He just scrambles out of the Impala, and moves like a man on a mission, quick and purposeful and a little faster than normal.

Sam is exactly where Dean left him, hair a little messier and notebook a little fuller, still buzzing with scholastic energy. He looks up when Dean comes in.

“Hey, Dean, guess what I found in the—” he frowns, “Where are the groceries?”

“Trunk,” he tosses Sam the keys, “Change of plans: we’re orderin’ in tonight.”

Sam frowns more deeply, “Um, okay…everything all right?”

“Where’s Cas?”

Sam’s frown starts to take on a worried edge, “I think he’s in the kitchen. Dean, are you sure that you’re—?”

Dean stalks off towards the kitchen while he answers, “Totally fine, dude. Unload the groceries and order some pizza or something.”

Sam mutters a reply that Dean doesn’t make out; he doesn’t really care presently.

Cas is, in fact, in the kitchen, rooting through one of the cabinets near the stove.

Dean’s heart swells and his fingers tingle with nervous energy.

Cas doesn’t turn around, but Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

“Dean, you’re back,” he pulls a box from the very back of the cabinet, “I was just about to make some tea would you like—” he turns, pauses, and tilts his head, “Where are the groceries?”

Dean rolls his eyes. How is that the biggest issue right now? How awesome is it that that’s the biggest issue right now? Can’t they tell he’s having a goddamn moment?

“I need to talk to you,” Dean says. His voice comes out much gruffer than he intended. Cas’ forehead furrows, but he permits Dean to grab his wrist (smooth warm skin, and strong tendons beneath Dean’s fingertips) and allows himself to be dragged away.

Dean tugs Cas along in his wake and neither of them speaks until Dean pulls them both into Cas’ room and closes the door behind them.

Cas stands before him, increasingly concerned, tension in his shoulders and a worried frown on his face. He’s gonna get wrinkles, Dean thinks, how goddamn lucky is he that he gets to see that happen. Apparently Dean’s bemused smile does nothing to decrease Cas’ preoccupation because he starts forward as if he’s going to lay a hand on Dean’s forehead, not to heal, but to check for fever. Affection washes over Dean in a wave of warmth. He intercepts the gesture, holding up the tape. Cas drops his hand and takes a step backwards.

“Cas, what is this?” Dean asks, tone serious.

All of the tension leaves Cas’ body for a second, Dean can actually see all the puzzle pieces slotting into place in Cas’ mind as he works out Dean’s behavior in response to the cassette in his hand. He touches the back of his neck and shuffles on his feet, suddenly nervous.

“It’s a mix tape.”

“Cas,” Dean says, voice low, “why did you make this?”

Cas frowns, blinks several times, and then stands straighter, “I was speaking with Claire last week, texting actually, and she commented upon the changed nature of our relationship.”

“Of course she did,” Dean quips. She was probably damn sassy about it too.

Cas’ mouth twitches, “Yes, well, she said that all we were missing now was a letterman jacket and a mixed tape to be a complete cliché.”

Dean barks out a laugh, “The whole angel and human thing wasn’t enough for her?”

There’s definitely a smile on Cas’ face now, “Apparently not.”

“Kids, man,” Dean shrugs.

“Well, I suppose this caused me to reflect,” Cas continues, “I obviously have no letterman jacket to give to you—”

Dean interrupts, “Woah, if anyone’s giving anyone a letterman jacket it’s gonna be me.”

Cas rolls his eyes, “—obviously neither of us has a letterman jacket to give the other, but I was given to understand that mixed tapes were common in courting practices among young people of your generation.”

“Courting practices?” Dean repeats, torn between amusement and wanting to hide his face in his hands. He’s being courted by a former angel who has actually thought about how he would have wooed Dean in the early 90s.

“So I asked Charlie to help me because it is surprisingly hard to make a cassette tape,” he continues, “have you considered updating the sound system in the Impala?”

Dean glares, “Really, Cas?”

He shakes his head and grins, “I suspected as much. Charlie was all too happy to help me actually produce the tape. When I told her what I wanted to do she responded with, what she referred to as a ‘velociraptor screech’, which actually bore very little resemblance to the vocalizations of a velociraptor. Charlie helped me with the mechanics, but I chose the music and I, uh, wrote the note.”

They stare at one another for a moment. Cas shuffles on his feet again, and Dean is held in thrall, overwhelmed by the gesture of it all, by all the things that Cas said in that note, by the contours of his face, by the fact that Cas is here with Dean, and, if what he said is true, always will be. It’s a heady feeling, makes Dean’s eyes sting and his throat tighten.

“Did you, uh, like it?” Cas finally asks uncertainly.

That’s apparently all Dean needs to move.

“Cas, that was the cheesiest,” he takes a step forward, “corniest,” he’s in Cas’ space, “dorkiest,” he pulls Cas into his chest so that they are flush together, and Cas freezes for a moment in the warm embrace of Dean’s arms, “sweetest fucking thing that anyone has ever done for me in my entire fucking life.”

Cas licks his lips and hesitantly brings his arms to wrap around Dean’s waist, “So you liked it, then?”

“I fucking loved it,” Dean swears into the warm, tanned skin of Cas’ neck. He kisses him just beneath his ear, “Thank you.”

The final bit of tension in Cas’ shoulders melts away, he rubs a soothing circle against Dean’s side, “I meant all that I said,” he assures, pressing a kiss into Dean’s hair.

Dean buries his flushing face more firmly into Cas’ neck, “No song has yet been written in a human tongue that could encapsulate the way that I feel for you.”

Dean’s eyes burn and he holds Cas tighter.

“Nothing could ever come close to expressing what you have given to me,” he pulls them apart so that Dean is forced to look at him, wide, watery eyes and all, “all that I feel,” Cas wipes his thumbs against Dean’s cheekbones, catching the tears, “when I am with you.”

“Cas,” Dean tries, voice thick.

“I love you, Dean Winchester,” he says with such warmth in his eyes and voice that Dean feels that he’s drowning in it. Cas leans forward and he presses their mouths together. It’s gentle, slow, and Dean feels it from the crown of his head to the tips of his toes. It’s like sunlight, warming him all over, deep into the core of him. He’s breathing heavily, shaking, overcome.

When they come up for air, Cas rests their foreheads together, holding Dean’s shaking fingers in his own steady ones, cradling them against his chest. Dean can feel Cas’ heartbeat against his knuckles.

“What do you want, Dean?” he asks, voice rough, but tone so, so tender. Dean could say he wanted to go on a picnic, and Cas would walk out of this room and pack a damn basket without a second’s hesitation.

Dean knows he could ask for anything, anything at all, and what comes out of his mouth is heartfelt, “Lie down with me?”

Cas smiles, presses a kiss against Dean’s lips, “Of course.”

He pulls Dean gently by their linked hands and settles him down on the bed. He undresses Dean reverently, carefully. He removes Dean’s shoes and his shirt, he undoes his belt, and slides off his jeans, he takes of Dean’s boxers, freeing his slight erection. Cas brushes a hand through Dean’s hair and kisses his mouth, soft and lingering. Then Cas undresses himself, quickly, purposefully, while Dean watches. He has tan lines from running and working in the garden: the toasty brown of his torso ends just below his belly button, and a swathe of milky skin extends to just above his knees. When they are both naked, Cas settles onto the bed, turning on his side to face Dean, who reaches out for him.

They’ve had sex before, and it’s awesome, every time, because it’s Dean and it’s Cas and they’re together, which is inherently awesome. How could it be anything else? Even when Dean accidentally trips over his own jeans while giving a strip tease, and face plants into the bedframe and Cas has to bandage his head in between some awkward explanation to Sam, even when one or the other of them is too tired to get it up, even when Cas says something that makes Dean laugh hysterically right when things are getting hot and heavy. It’s always awesome.

Cas asked Dean what he wanted, and all Dean wants right now is to be close to Cas, to feel him, to know he’s there.

When they comes together, it’s slow touches and kisses. It’s Dean tracing the shape of Cas’ body: his face and his shoulders, his back, his stomach. It’s Cas laying worshipful kisses, gentle and wet against Dean’s skin, interspersed with endearments. He presses them against Dean’s eyelids, his collarbone, his chest. Cas works Dean into hardness, slow and steady strokes of his hand around Dean’s cock that send heat, electricity running through his nerves, coiling low in his belly. Dean does the same for Cas. The first touch of their cocks together, hot, velvety skin and pulsing heat, is almost too much for Dean. Cas twines their fingers together, working over them both, climbing to that precipice together. Cas’ mouth is warm against Dean’s, his tongue smooth and wet. They’re sweating; Dean’s eyes burn, their hearts beat frantically. Dean can’t look away and Cas can’t either, they watch each other, eyes locked. They jump over the edge together and when they come down from that high, sticky and sated, Dean has tears in his eyes, running down his cheeks. He takes shuddering breaths, while Cas pulls him close, wraps him tight and safe in the circle of his arms, and presses kisses to the top of his head.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, “shhhh.”

He hums a song that Dean doesn’t know but he feels the love in it down to the very marrow of his bones.

Dean has to work his mouth several times before he’s able to get anything out past a shaky sob, but he finally manages, with his eyes closed tight, and Cas’ heartbeat just beneath his ear, “I love you, too, Cas.”

Cas tightens his hold on Dean, pulls him closer, as close as he can. It hurts a little bit, but Dean doesn’t mind.

“I know, Dean,” he sounds so sure, so certain, “I know.”

*

Dean doesn’t keep the twenty-third cassette tape with the others. He keeps it and Cas’ note in his room, in the top drawer of his desk, next to a picture of his mom.

When a month later, Dean decides to make good on his Mark of Cain bucket list and take a nice long vacation, he makes sure to move the tape to the car. The Carolinas should be fucking gorgeous this time of year. It’s just him and Cas on the road; Sam is gonna meet them at Myrtle Beach next week (“get all the loud sex out of the way before I show up, please.” Dean makes no promises). Dean loads their duffels in the trunk just after dawn, stores some snacks and the cooler in the back seat. Cas brings two steaming cups of coffee for the road. Dean starts the Impala and smiles at Cas, who is still a little bleary eyed.

It’s the twenty-third tape that Dean pushes into the tape deck just before they pull out of the garage. Cas smiles at Dean and takes his hand. They hit the road to the sound of a love song.

*

Cas’ mixtape for Dean

1. “Lucky” Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat 2. “We Found Love” Rihanna 3. “Shake it Off” Taylor Swift. 4. “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” The Beatles 5. “I’ll Make Love to You” Boyz II Men 6. “Can’t Help Falling In Love” Elvis Presley 7. “Can’t Fight This Feeling” REO Speedwagon 8. “What Makes You Beautiful” One Direction 9. “Just You 'N’ Me” Chicago 10. “You Make Me Feel So Young” Frank Sinatra 11. “A Thousand Years” Christina Perri