#Just. The way its formatted. Whenever I see a name repeated at the start and end of a a sentence it's so humorous somehow

[gaminegay]

"________. So tell me, Will,"

and

"Jesse. We have to _______ Jesse."

are cousins

[thefanficmonster]

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.” 

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting. 

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt. 

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“ 

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

 I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

                                                            *  *  *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold. 

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

                                                              *  *  *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours. 

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper. 

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity. 

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.” 

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life. 

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me. 

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat

[kass-storycorner]

I really loved your ghost fic with Xiao. But it left me curious to have a second part in which they finally find the way to communicate. Whenever is just to say goodbye and having reader going to the afterlife or getting stuck there forever in an eternal solitary pseudo-company together is up to you, I just want to see them talk 😭

awww, thank you! I'm so glad you loved it (though I am sorry for the sad feelings haha). And I was really struggling to find a way to end that orginal story in the beginning, which is the reason why it ended that way oops. Well, now here is the follow up for it. Compared to the small bit I wrote for Xiao... I mean not even compared to it, this is the longest fic I've posted on here so far? Ah, well. I just had so much fun with it.

Idea/Prompt: a follow up to Xiaos part in this post

Genre: a bit of Angst and Hurt, more comforting than the first part, but if the ending is a happy one is up to you!

Characters: Xiao (Zhongli as side character, mention of Hu Tao, Verr Goldot, a new character I made up that did not get a name)

Format: Text

Word count: 5593

Content warning: mentions of blood, spoiler-y for the second act of Zhonglis story quest and the same spoilers warnings as for the OG post! this is not proof read, I started writing this at midnight and its 5am now ahha fml

The Ghost of you Part II. - To the end

yes we are keeping the mcr names

“Xiao”, he felt an uneasiness in his body upon hearing his name. Where was he? Looking around, Xiao saw he stood in a field of flowers. When did he come here? He had no recollection of it at all. Confused he furrows is brows, worry filling his heart and then- “Xiao.” There it was again, that voice calling out to him. Speaking his name softly, voice filled with affection. Where did it came from? He walked around the field, no end of it in sight, looking for that voice calling out to him. The longer he searched for it, the more his heart was filled with dread. “Xiao.” This time the voice came from behind him and when he turned around, he saw you, holding your hand out to him and smiling. “(Y/N)”, Xiao looked at you in disbelief. Was it really you standing in front of him? Your laugh pulled him out of his trance. “Xiao, why are you standing there like a pillar? Come, take my hand,” and at that you wiggled it a bit, signalling him that you're waiting for him to take it. “(Y/N),” Xiao repeated, standing still and looking at your hand, then to you. “What are you doing here?”. Again, you laughed as if what he said was the silliest thing you ever heard. “What do you mean by that? Xiao,” you shook your head and then you shoot him a bright, warm smile. “You wanted to come here, remember? Now come, take my hand and dance with me before the music stops.” Dance? Music? At first Xiao did not understand what you meant, but then he heard it. In the distance, the low sounds of a flute, a sweet melody that sounded strange but all too familiar. “Xiao”, he heard you whisper his name, speaking so gently. Slowly, he was still a bit hesitant, he reached out for your hand, taking it in his. A smile came across your face at the touch of your hands. With a swift motion Xiao was pulled into your arms, you both at first staying still in that embrace. “Xiao, lets dance, okay?”. With that you both started to waltz around the field, Xiao not knowing how he knew to dance like this, but somehow, he did. The dread that started to spread in his chest earlier was now gone, replaced by the feeling of love he felt for you. Still, there was something tugging at his mind, telling him something was amiss here. It felt familiar, yes. However, it also seemed to be strange to him at the same time. Though Xiao tried to push the nagging feeling away, wanting only to enjoy this pleasant moment with you. Which is why he at first didn’t notice how the sky darkened above them nor that the music had stopped a while ago. As you both stopped to dance, still holding each other in your arms, he heard you call out to him again. “Xiao”, the sound of your voice was filled with pain and when he looked at you in his arms the light behind your eyes was gone, your face stiff and emotionless. At the sight of your dead eyes, he wanted to part from the embrace, but he couldn’t let you go. Xiao saw the blood, saw the bruises and suddenly he was on his knees again, you are laying in his arms. He wanted to cry, wanted to say your name but he couldn’t. It was as if there was no air to breath so he could speak. And then – “Xiao.” His name. “Xiao.” Again. “Xiao.” Over and over again he heard how his name was spoken, but with every whisper of his name the voice became more distorted, louder. Until he cowered in pain at the sound of it, wanting it to stop, wishing for it to stop. “Xiao”.

With that Xiao woke up, his body covered in cold sweat and his breathing erratic. Another nightmare of you, another nightmare of something he wished the both of you could’ve done but never did – because of his shortcomings. Xiao sat atop of a rock, looking over the forest in which your ghost continued to wander aimlessly around. He had been watching you for a few weeks now, trying to figure out what kept you here and how he could help you. However, Xiao was clueless at what could be the cause of this. It was clear to him now that he couldn’t help you, he needed to find someone who could. Looking down at the forest, seeing your ghost wander around between the trees, he softly whispered. “I will be back soon, I won’t leave you again for long, I promise.” There weren’t many people Xiao could ask for help. Back when you were alive Xiao wasn’t the most social, wanting to keep his distance from humans. After you died this habit of his, avoiding others, only worsened. So, the only person Xiao could think of to ask for help in this matter was the same who saved him from his servitude as a bloodhound. Zhongli spend most of the last hundred years among the people of Liyue, but for a few decades now he lived in a remote house. It was now the door of said house Xiao knocked on, knowing that although he could easily enter the house, Zhongli preferred it for him to knock. “Ah, Xiao, it is nice to see you,” Zhongli greeted the adeptus. As Xiao entered the house and followed the tall man into his kitchen, it was a standard practice of Zhongli to drink a tea with anyone who visited, he couldn’t stop to notice that the notebooks scattered around the house grew in number. “So,” Zhongli began his question, “what brings you here? From your troubled look I can tell you didn’t come for the tea or my company.” With that Xiao didn’t waste any time on more formalities, explaining his predicament to the former Geo-Archon. “Mmmh, I see,” he replied, taking a sip from his cup. “I fear I might not be much of help in this case, although I have some knowledge on the topic of the human afterlife, I can’t think of a solution to this. However, it might be best to go ask Hu Tao on advice, as she is way more… let’s say, perceptive when it comes to the dead.” How bothersome, Xiao thought at the mention of Hu Tao. “Zhongli, Hu Tao is long dead”, was all Xiao could say. It happened more frequently now that Zhongli seemed to forget things, small ones but also important pieces of information and this filled Xiao with unease. He didn’t like it that the erosion of Zhongli already was set in motion, thinking about that one-day Xiao might have to face him in battle should he lose all sense of self and sanity. Neither did Zhongli enjoy slowly losing his memories of the past – although he wrote down as much as possible, it bothered him that he had to even rely on his notebooks. “Ah,” Zhongli replied, setting his cup down on the table and with a troubled look, “I seem to have forgotten something again. Would you please help my memory, when did this happen?” “One thousand years might have already passed,” Xiao saw how much it stirred Zhongli up that he had forgotten the passing of a friend. “She had a good life, right? I’m sorry for asking, but I somehow can’t seem to remember much about her later life.” “Yes,” Xiao answered, thinking about the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. There weren’t many humans he tolerated or even enjoyed being around, but Hu Tao was one Xiao always was fond of. She was also the one at the Parlor that day you died, when Xiao came in with your dead body in his arms, he hoped he might find Zhongli maybe he could do something about it, but… Xiao knew there was nothing anyone could do. Hu Tao understood his pain, without a word she showed him where to put your body and prepared your funeral, without even asking for a single Mora. “Then, “Zhongli pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “maybe you might find help with the new Director, her family always had some knowledge about that human afterlife that’s even a mystery to me.” With that

Xiao said his goodbye to Zhongli and made his way to Liyue. The city of Liyue changed over the last thousand years a lot, but the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was still one of the constants in the city. Xiao couldn’t remember the last time he visited the city, though it must have been a few hundred years ago for sure. He just never really liked it and since, what the humans called a ‘industrial revolution’, the city was even more crowded and overwhelming for Xiao. “Welcome to the Wangshen Funeral Parlor, how may I help you?”, a young person greeted Xiao as he set foot into the building. At the enthusiastic way the person greeted him as he entered a funeral home, Xiao was sure this was one of Hu Taos descendants. He barley could imagine anyone else be so happy surrounded by death. “Are you the director?”, Xiao asked in his usual stern voice. “The 107th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, yep that’s me!” “I may need your assistance.” “Wonderful, I’m always happy to help- oh well, not happy as I am happy for your loss, my condolences by the way, but in happy as I am happy that I can be of help. So, what do you need help with? We have some wonderful new coffins out of a wonderful wood, really they are also very comfortable, not that comfort is that important for someone who’s dead, but I thought it might be also of interest to say that they are really comfort-“, ah yes, Xiao thought, definitely related to Hu Tao. “I don’t need a coffin”, he interrupted the young director. “Oh, um… what can I help with then?”, they asked and then Xiao explained everything to them. At first, he wasn’t sure of the director would be of help, most humans have long forgotten the existence of the gods and adepti, as most of them died or lived a life among humanity, but sure enough the director did turn out to be well versed with the forgotten knowledge of the world. “So, you say the ghost is just roaming around those woods? Nothing else happens?”, the director asked, sitting in their chair in the back office of the Parlor, and they had their hand on their chin, looking like they were thinking about something “Will you be of help now or why do you keep repeating the same useless questions?”, Xiao became a bit impatient now. He just needed to know if someone was able to help you. Without even answering the question the director stood up from the chair and walked towards a bookshelf, pulling a big and old looking book out and opening it up on the table. “Mmmh, from what you’ve described it seems to be nothing to grave, they don’t seem to have become an evil spirit just yet, moreover it seems like they are just one who got lost, though it is surprising that after such a long time the spirit didn’t just turned into something malicious. Normally for most human ghosts it takes a few hundred years until they go insane and well, you know all too well what then happens with an evil spirt I guess.” Xiao was aware what happened to the evils in the world, because it was mostly him. Though he didn’t like to think about it what it would have meant if you- no, he didn’t even want to finish that thought. “How do I help them?”, he didn’t care about any of the other information, he just wanted to find a way to help you. The director pointed at a passage in the book in front of them and continued. “What we have to do is easy if you think about it, I just need something that belonged to the deceased they held dear, a few materials like Qingxin flowers, around twenty should be enough, and the next part is more tricky if you don’t know the deceased that well, which shouldn’t be a problem here, but we need to, well you need to, speak some words that you know are important to them. A story or something like that, sometimes even the voice of a loved one is enough to help to guide the spirits back. Though I will definitely have to accompany that spirit to the border, just to make sure it won’t happen again, you know getting lost, because I can’t guarantee this method will help a second time.” Xiao was quiet. Something that belonged to them, when the director said

those words, his hand immediately flew up to the necklace with the small pendant he wore. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he rather enjoyed listening to what you had to say to him most of the time. He enjoyed the sound of your voice; it was so much more pleasant than his own. One day, Xiao still remembers it so well, your voice said something he did not expect for you to say. “Xiao, I love you.” It took him by surprise, standing on the balcony of the Wangshu Inn, watching the night sky… he suspected that you liked him that way, he did too. Oh, but how he hoped that you wouldn’t say anything about it, like he planned too. Your openness scared him. The idea of being loved scared him, for what was there to love about him? He didn’t want to be a burden to you, his karmic debt, his burden – he feared it would all just make you hate him one day if he let you see it all. That night, after you said these words, Xiao disappeared without a word from your sight. He wasn’t far away, but he wished back then that he teleported out of his hearing range. The sobs that came from you after his departure broke Xiaos heart. After this he avoided you, which wasn’t too hard because you did the same thing too. But with every day that passed when Xiao didn’t see you, hear your voice, his heart grew heavier. Asking himself if he really did do the right thing. Verr Goldet approached Xiao a few weeks after your confession, inquiring why now you didn’t come to the Inn anymore. Xiao did not answer her question, but Verr was a smart woman and at the look in his eyes she understood. “Don’t give up someone you love, only because you are scared of the love you both feel for each other, Xiao”, was all she said. This was the final push for Xiao to finally get over himself and embrace the feelings he felt for you. He didn’t know anymore where the idea came from, but he decided to gift you a handmade necklace along side his confession. Xiao was scared that it might be too late for telling you that he felt the same. However, he knew he had to do it and he wanted to give you something that showed you how he felt too. So Xiao collected the material all around from Liyue, creating a metal necklace and using a small piece of Cor Lapis, your favourite you told him once, as the pendant. With that he looked for you, finding you sitting in the middle of a flower field. “(Y/N)”, he said, stopping himself from continuing when he saw how you jumped at your own name. “Xiao! You scared me!”, you quickly stood up and turned around to him. Xiao wasn’t the most adept with words, he enjoyed listening to you – but you stayed quiet after facing him and you kept quiet when Xiao came closer. “I-“, he began, but unable to speak the words he so wished you to hear from him. Instead, he took your hand and put the necklace in it. “I- I made you this,” was all he could say, feeling how fast his heart pounced in his chest. The look in your eyes, Xiao saw the love you felt for him in them. “Xiao, I-“, he saw how you viewed the necklace in your hand, tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes. Before you were able to finish the sentence or let the tears fall down, Xiao took your face in his hands and kissed you. Yes, he wasn’t the most adept with words, but he learned that he could show you how much he loved you in other ways.

From that day on you wore that necklace every single day, never taking it off since Xiao but it on you after the shared kiss. You joked that it was a physical representation of your love for each other, though Xiao felt like you actually meant it. And somehow it really was. Xiao remembered how that necklace was still around you neck when he took your body to Hu Tao, he remembered that it was covered with your blood. He didn’t even think about taking it off you. It was Hu Tao who gave him that necklace after your burial and since then he hadn’t taken it off. It was the last thing he had of you, the last reminder of your love for each other and every night after your death, when he cowered in pain because of his karmic debt, the cool touch of the stone on his skin helps him to stay sane. Just like the flute he heard even long before he met you.

When Xiao and the director arrived at the forest, they collected the flowers on their way, he could see your ghost again. Walking around, calling for him. His heart breaks every time he had to witness your suffering. “Okay, we have the flowers… do you have something that belonged to them with you, Xiao?”, the director asked, and Xiao shifted his focus from you to them. Slowly he took the necklace off, feeling somehow so vulnerable without it, and gave it to the director. “You know where they start their walk and end it right?”. Yes, Xiao knew that. He had watched over your ghost for the past couple of weeks and noticed that you were walking in circles, without even knowing so it seemed, starting from the place you died and ending up there again. Although your body was buried in another part of Liyue and already long gone, taken back by nature, you stayed here. Where you died. Xiao wished he had come here earlier. Together with the director Xiao made his way to the place where your life ended and your endless suffering in a sort of limbo started, laying down the flowers and the necklace. “And how is that supposed to help them now?”, he asked, not sure how any of this will work. “Like I said, we put down something that belonged to them and was important because they will gravitate to the feelings still connected with that object. The flowers are helping, because they built a bridge between the living realm and what state they are in. Now we just need some words that they have a connection with, in the past it used to be certain prayers because people kept using them a lot, but you know it honestly doesn’t matter what you say, it just needs to be connected to them in some way. Maybe their favourite story or a lullaby, there are many possibilities.” “A lullaby, huh,” this was something Xiao hadn’t thought about in a long time. “Xiao, are you alright?”, he heard your voice from across the dark room. It was the middle of the night, normally he would be out killing monsters, but for tonight you were able to make him sleep with you. When you found out that he never sleeps you were shocked, though he tried to calm you saying that an adeptus didn’t need to sleep. “Maybe you don’t need to,” you told him with a stern look, hands on your hips, “but it will be good for you too, believe me!”. And somehow, after each of you confessed the feelings for the other, you were able to make him sleep next to you some nights. Just for that night his karmic debt plagued Xiao. He sat in front of your window, trying to keep his distance from you, not wanting to disturb your sleep and he didn’t want to worry you. “Xiao?”, you asked again, but instead of an answer Xiao growled in pain. Suddenly you were beside him. “Don’t”, he said through gritted teeth as you tried to touch him. “You’re in pain, let me help you.” He saw your worried painted face, ashamed that you had to see him like this. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. Don’t worry.” “Don’t tell me not to worry when I see the person I love most suffering,” and with that you took his hand. “Please Xiao, let me help you.” Even when he wasn’t in such a weakened state it was hard for Xiao to refuse you and now – all he wished for was your comforting touch. You led Xiao back to bed and when you noticed how he had a fever you quickly prepared a cold and wet towel for him. As you both lied down in bed you took Xiao in your arms. “I don’t know if this will help,” you began after a short amount of silence, “but when I was a child my mother always used to sing this lullaby to help me fall asleep. She even continued singing it when we were older and got sick… it always helps me feel better and at ease, shall I sing it to you?”. Xiao only gave a small nod, not believing it would help when you sang that song for the first time. But it did, you soothed his pain and helped him fall asleep. From that night on you would sing it more often to Xiao, he never asked for it but you somehow always knew when he wished to hear it, especially on the nights when is karmic debt caused him great pain. That lullaby became

another sign of how much you loved each other – the necklace was Xiaos gift, the song yours.

Now there he stood, in this forest that once was just a plain field, the flowers and necklace to his feet singing that lullaby. Xiao never sang it when you were alive, he never sang at all. No matter how much you begged him to sing for you, this was something he always refused to do. Thinking about how beautiful your voice sounded, he never wanted to soil this song with his voice.

It felt like you screamed for Xiao for hours and hours on end, but your voice doesn’t hurt. Where were you? What had happened? In your head you repeated and repeated the last things you could remember again and again. You were walking in the fields, wanting to collect some crystal flies for a commission. Then you remembered that you were attacked, who or what attacked you slipped your mind. However, the fight was tedious and hard… and then you called for Xiao. That’s it. That’s all you could remember. But where was he? Where was Xiao? Didn’t he say he would always come when you called out for him? Why didn’t he come now? You feared that he was still angry with you, though you didn’t know anymore why he even should be angry with you in the first place. The two of you had a fight yes, but… was that it? You spend so much time apart, did he just decide you weren’t worth his time anymore? Did he maybe stop loving you? Those thoughts filled you with dread and you wanted to cry, cry at the thought of Xiao not loving you anymore, but somehow you couldn’t. So you kept calling for him, over and over again. “Xiao,” you screamed. “XIAO!” And then you heard something, at first you weren’t sure what it was, but there was a noise. You stopped calling out for him, trying to focus on where the sound came from, following the direction. It got louder and – was that Xiao singing? The closer you came towards the sound, towards Xiaos voice singing that lullaby… your mothers’ lullaby, the lullaby that became yours and Xiaos. Which he always refused to sing, no matter how much you pleaded. The closer you came you started to remember the things that happened more clearly. How you didn’t want to call for Xiao at first that day, how something hit you in your stomach and how you felt the blood gusher out of you. Yes, you remember how you couldn’t stand anymore and all that was on your mind was Xiao, you wanted to see him again. Just once. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were, how stupid it was for you to fight and how stupid it was to wait this long to call for him. You wanted to say this to him, all of it. But all you remember you said was his name. “Xiao.”

He stopped singing, his head flying up seeing your ghost stand right in front of him. His name. You just said his name. “Xiao,” you said it again, this time he heard you say it clearly and you looked right at him, not through. “(Y/N)”, it came more out as whisper. This is what he wanted. He wanted you to see him, to get out of that limbo, but why does it still hurt as much? “Ah, seems like it worked, great!”, the director interrupted the moment, looking at Xiao and the ghost of you. “I ummm- I’m gonna leave the two of you alone for a while, so you can talk things out, say your goodbyes, yadayadayada.” With that the director walked away and it was just you and Xiao.

“I-“, Xiao began, but somehow his voice failed him. What was there to say? What should he say? “Xiao,” he heard the hesitance in your voice. “Xiao, I am dead, right?”. He couldn’t stand looking at you, his eyes avoiding yours as he gave his short answer. “Yes.” “I see,” you replied quietly. You slowly started to remember the nights you stood on the field, waiting for him to come. “Why,” you weren’t sure if you wanted an answer to your question, “why didn’t you come? After, you know… I- I waited for you. I called you. Why-?”. “I felt guilty. It was my fault, if I just hadn’t tried to push you away again, then you wouldn’t have died, I’m so sorry,” his voice was so quiet, but you could hear how he tried to hold back the tears. “Xiao,” at hearing his name again he looked back at you, you now seeing the tears that pooled at the corner of his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you… and I should have called for you earlier. But Xiao,” you saw how the tears started to fall down his face, “it wasn’t your fault.” He couldn’t hold it in any longer, Xiao fell to his knees, hands in his face and crying. “Please,” he sobbed. “Please, forgive me. I should have protected you that day, I should have come here earlier and see what was happening… please, forgive me.” You walked towards Xiao, reaching out your hand, wanting to touch him. Wanting to take him in your arms, but you couldn’t. It broke your heart. “Xiao, please, please look at me,” he did, his eyes red and filled with his tears. “There is nothing to ask for forgiveness for, you did nothing wrong Xiao. It’s alright. I’m sorry for leaving so soon, for running away that day we had this stupid fight. I don’t even know what it was about…”. “I don’t know either”, Xiao admitted and somehow you had to laugh a bit at that. None of you ever remembered why you fought even in the first place, all of this nearly felt so normal. But it wasn’t. Xiao wiped away the tears from his eyes and stood up again, this time to be able to face you. You looked just like he remembered, except for the see-through part but… your smile hasn’t changed. Even if this was a sad one. “Xiao, how much time has passed since I died?” That question surprised him. “Around…”, he was hesitant to tell you the truth. Should he really tell you? “Xiao,” and you looked at him and he knew that he couldn’t hide the truth. “A thousand years perhaps.” Thousand years, you thought. For thousand years he walked around with this guilt, for thousand years he kept that necklace that still was on the ground… for thousand years he lived his life, still mourning you it seemed. “Did you get over me?”. Again, another question he didn’t expect. Why were you asking him this? Did he get over you? “No, every single day since you died you were on my mind, I couldn’t forget you and I do not wish to. I can never get over you.” This wasn’t the answer you hoped for. “Xiao, I’ve been dead for thousand years. Even if I hadn’t died that day, I would have died on another one. Thousand years compared to what, sixty? Maybe seventy years if I had lived a full life is nothing. Humans are weak after all, aren’t we?”. You didn’t mean to stir him up with your last comment, it was more intended as a joke, alas a sad one, but somehow you struck a nerve within him. “No, they are not. I always said that, but I was wrong (Y/N). I don’t understand how you human can live your life, knowing that you will die, that those you love will inevitably die. How you can idly sit next to people you care about forgetting important things, things about themselves, struggle to remember who they are, seeing them die… and you move forward. I watched over you humans for such a long time, protecting you and I still- I don’t understand how. How can they love again? Where does the strength come from to keep moving forward?”, Xiao’s voice was full of pain, you heard it clear as day, seeing how tears rolled down his face again. You felt that there were even other things weighing heavy on him, not only you, but you knew that you couldn’t comfort him. That this was

something he needed to figure out himself. “Xiao, you will learn. You will understand it one day, it just takes time.” Your voice heavy with sadness and oh, how you wished you could take him in your arms, wipe his tears away and kiss him.

Before Xiao could reply anything in return the director disturbed the two of you again. “So, are you ready now?”, looking directly at you. “No, but I stayed here for far too long now, didn’t I?”, a sad smile coming across your face. You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you couldn’t stay any longer. It was time. “I will come with you as far as I can,” Xiao had wiped his tears away and stood now right next to you. If you still had a body your shoulders would touch.

Xiao and the director accompanied you to the border of life and death in silence. Before you crossed it you looked at Xiao. He looked so sad, as if he was to lose you a second time. “I wish,” you heard him say, “that you could stay just a bit longer. I know it’s selfish, but I just wished you could have stayed by my side forever. But you can’t stay, and you shouldn’t.” “Xiao, I feel the same. I wish I could have spent eternity with you, but I can’t and it okay. I just want to ask you for one thing, one last promise before I go, okay?”. Xiao looked at you with a heavy heart. “Yes.” “Promise me you will try to find happiness for yourself again, okay? Promise me you will love again, please. Don’t stay alone.” Silently Xiao looked at you to then finally say “I promise.” “Thank you Xiao,” Archons, you wished you could take his hand. “Now then,” you said looking in the directions you had to go. “Time to go.” “(Y/N)”, you heard Xiao say before you left. “I love you.” “I love you too, Xiao.” As Xiao and the director left the border, he stayed quiet, the atmosphere being quite sombre. “Maybe,” the director pulled Xiao out of his thoughts, “there is nothing behind the border and they stopped existing completely. But maybe their soul will now find a way back to you, just in another way? Who knows,” and with that the director left. Xiao didn’t know if he believed that you would find a way back to him, but as it started to rain and as it fell down on his skin, Xiao felt now lighter as if a heavy burden was taken off of him. With that he started to move forward again.

[arcadejohn127-9]

Could you do the Brothers and undatables reacting to MC being poisoned and finding out that Micheal was trying to kill them because he was jealous that MC was close with the brothers. Let me just say your work is great the way you describe the situation before going into the reactions is really interesting. Thank you so much!!!!

I already had this ask half way done but Tumblr decided to delete all my work due to buggy WiFi - I'm currently in pain 😭

I don't know much about poison so bare with me, I just looked at the basic symptoms and went "I'm smart" I've passed out after being ill or just in general quite a few times when younger so I had faith

This also has a bonus Michael part! I've decided to add his response to the boys reactions in its own format or else each one will just have a repeat of the same Michael Response

Warning: angst, implied vomitting, attempted murder, fainting, spoilers of lesson 37 and 16, gore on Michaels part, long

"from Michael...?" You questioned outloud, unsure on how to feel about the parcel you've found.

Your relationship with the angel wasn't a defined one. You didn't hate him but you didn't like him either; there was always something about his presence that made you fearful. You choked it up to be just internalised fear due to hearing the brothers experience of the celestial realm and angels.

You've never met him in person; the first conversation you had of him was when you stabbed yourself with the dagger instead of Lucifer. You saw the light and he spoke to you, surprised and shocked at the love you had for the demons. Even then you never really got to speak to him again, he was a mystery. You've sent a few letters and he's returned some and Simeon is a link between you two. But other than that? You didn't really have a relationship with him.

So why? Why would he send you a gift?

You looked inside to see a packet of apple pieces and herbs inside of a snack shaped teabag. You admired the unique shape and couldn't stop a small smile appearing. It was definitely cute! And you finally got to use the new kettle and cups barbatos got you.

You decided to text Simeon, telling him to thank Michael for your gift. He was surprised by this but agreed, happy you two were connecting.

Whilst your new tea brewed you were trying to figure out a way to repay his kindness. Sure it was simple small gift but he was reaching out - you were giddy! Hopeful this meant he was fully on board to the exchange program.

But you soon would regret drinking that tea. It was so sweet you couldn't stop drinking it; your lips only leaving the cup of a second of breath. It was addicting. The herb covered apples pieces gave it a nice slight bitterness. But it wasn't overbearing but didn't make it taste like sugar in your mouth.

As soon as the last gulp came down; something came up. You hunched over as your stomach churned, a disgusting taste forcing itself up your throat. Your vision growing blurry as you stumbled out of your seat, the light in your room feeling like knives to your eyes. You tried closing them but the effect didn't change. You were barely hunched over on your side releasing everything in your stomach. It stung your throat, your stomach feeling painfully empty.

There was this invisible feeling telling you to go to sleep. You wanted to obey but the light felt too painful. In your dazed state you shakily texted the groupchat a sloppy "help me ASAP, my room" before letting your body go limp, heaving as you just laid there, dragging a nearby jacket over your head and let your vision be consumed by the darkness.

Lucifer:

He's heart broken

How did this happen? You were fine and now you're not moving

Your breathing was faint against his neck as he held you

He saw the parcel and connected the dots, Eden's tea

It was a death sentence for any human, a treat for demons and a punishment for angels

He's started a war once, he can do it again

Whilst he knew he couldn't enter the celestial realm he demanded that Michael show himself

When his demands went unanswered, he was ready to break all rules

"He's gone too far, I don't care for his reasons! I WILL DESTORY THE CELESTIAL REALM IF I HAVE TO! HE WILL ANSWER ME!"

when you received a cure all his angers washed away with relief

Happy to have you awake again even if it was for a few moments

Mammon:

FLASHBACK ARE STRONG

All he can think about his how you looked like in the past; dying in his arms

He immediately went to blame belphie but almost tripped over the parcel

He's an idioit but he knew what this tea was

Becomes feral with rage and overly protective of your unconscious body

He's hunched over by your side at all times just growling at anyone who comes near you

He wanted to hurt Michael but he wanted to stay with you

He'd talk to you and tell you how he was going to get payback

"I should of known he'd do something-! I'll never forgive him- DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!! I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM!"

As soon as you get the cure he's hugging you and telling you how much he missed you

Levithan:

When he found you, his heart dropped

It only got worse when he found the parcel and realized what Michael has done

he will remind the celestial realm why he is an admiral of hell's navy

He spends time by the sea communicating with any creature he can get; telling them if things go down he'll need them to flood the gates of heaven

When he isn't planning war he's with you, playing games, trying to ignore how dead you looked

He would remind you what buttons to push when your chatacter didn't move

"YOU THINK I'LL JUST LET THIS SLIDE??!! HE'S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"

He broke down sobbing when you woke up after getting a cure

He was convinced you were dead but here you were, alive and awake

Satan:

He's a detective nerd so of course he scoped out the scene

When he found the parcel and Michaels name - oh boy

Never met the man and pities him for letting their first meeting be the angels demise

It wasn't long before he had to be detained

Screaming and tearing up anything he could, yelling at his brother's for falling

He blamed his brothers, he blamed Michael and he blamed himself

Hated being locked away from you, would course more of a fuss when he couldn't see you

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET TO THAT DAMN ANGEL!! I HATE YOU!"

He's only calmed down when you are given a cure and he's told you're alive

Is finally allowed to see you and he holds you tight

Asmodeus:

When he found you he was sobbing

It only grew worse when he found out what happened

In Denial

Not of Michael, he believed that but in denial you were dead or were dying

Kept insisting you were just tired and sleeping

Destroyed an entire room when one of them insisted you weren't sleeping

He'd help you get ready and pamper you, telling you it's okay and you can thank him when you feel better

Would be seen wiping your face often in hopes it'll get rid of that death like appearance you have

"They're fine but Michael won't be, when my precious darling wakes up I'll make sure they know I'll make everything better."

When you bad your cure he started crying and laughing, telling everyone he was right

Clinged to you and let you sleep

Beezlebub:

He found the parcel almost immediately

And went into a rage - we all know how his hunger tantrums are

Would've destroyed the whole house if he wasn't restrained

Guilt

So much guilt, his shoulders are always sagging

Sits by your unconscious body so he feels like he's protecting you

Has tried kissing you awake

Hoping you'll wake up like a fairy tale Character and everything will be fine

"I'm going to kill Michael and I won't let any of you stop me....protect (Y/N) For me."

Was so happy and relieved when you got the cure, sticking to your side at all times even when you were awake

Belphegor:

He was quick to help you into bed and on your side

When he found the parcel he was ready to murder

His rage towards Michael massively outweighed his hatred for humanity - even Lucifer!

Beel couldn't keep control of him mostnofnthe time unless he got forceful, belphegor stuck in a headlock screeching bloody murder

Stress sleeping

Like many of the brothers he develops two modes: calm or PLANNING MASS MURDER

Whenever he gets overwhelmed he just forces body to shut down and sleep besides you

"Michael will face me again, I won't let him kill anyone else that I love! He got Lilith killed and he can't do the same for (Y/N)!"

As soon as the cure was found he was by your side

Letting you rest and watched over you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Found out through the brothers

Sees this as an act of war against the peace he's working for

He was normally sweet and forgiving but it seemed Michael wanted to rip to his last nerve

Demanded for every reliable demon to search for a cure

Even had Solomon try to make one

"Barbatos, what is the possibility of Michael coming down to the devildom or the human realm? I want 'discuss' with him what his actions have caused."

As soon he he found out you were alive and safe

He didn't stop his plans but let himself have time with you

Barbatos:

So much guilt

Like holy shit

Is just constantly questioning how he didn't prevent this

Asked permission from the lord to just change the timelines so this didn't happen but the brothers were against it

They demanded they didn't avoid this situation and let Michael face punishment

That he couldn't refuse, he was angered by the angel's actions

More than he would ever show

"humans are so fragile and their time is so limited - that's why I'm never going to let anyone cut theirs short again."

Was part of the cure search party, he led the group

Once you were cured he stayed with you

Acting as your butler and made to check each of your foods and drinks

Solomon:

It wasn't a wise decision to piss off a wizard with stupid amount of pacts

To think an angel would do such a thing

But whilst Everyone lost their temper and searched for a cure

He was wondering - why did it happen

He was ordered asked to make you a cure

He was able to do it but the real cure was also found - giving you extra cure wasn't going to harm you

But he did plan to harm Michael

"you'd think he was smarter than this, he didn't even hide he was the one who did it but all it does is make my job easier."

nursed you until you woke up

Making sure you had mini cures to completely magic it out of your system

Simeon:

When he found out he was stunned

Betrayal - that's all he felt

How could Michael do such a thing?

But he knew Michael was a cruel angel, many having to drink Eden's tea as punishment

It burned their insides and had any poor soul sobbing for mercy after a gulp

"Michael you fool, you can get away with things in your league but you've involved the three realms into this....I pray you do not make your demise harder for yourself."

Was apart of the cure search party

Soothed you when you finally woke up, telling you it'll be okay

Let you rest as much as you wanted

Luke:

They tried to hide it from him but he kept demanding to see you

He wanted to know why everyone was acting strange

When he finally found out he was broken

His mentor

His idol

His everything

The person who always went for permission and knowledge

He thought so highly of him but he's hurt you

He's done more than that! He's tried to kill you!

He's been sobbing for days and locked himself away, he couldn't bare to see you after his once visit

He believed you were dead and they were just keeping your body

"Michael....why....why would you do this.... I thought you loved your brother's....I thought you were kind..!"

When he found out there was a cure he begged to help but they wouldn't let him

He only got to see you when you woke up and he was hugging you, crying

+ bonus Character↓

Michael:

The angel knew they'd be upset

But 9 demons wanting his blood? One wizard ready to cause mayhem and even his own kind wanting his downfall?

That he didn't expect

In his blind jealousy he didn't expect they'd all care for you this much

Thinking apart of them would be relieved you weren't there

But no

"You were my brother's before you were their partner, I'm simply doing what is right! It was their time to meet him and finally stop controlling all of you! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! I'M YOUR FAMILY! WHY ARE THEY MORE IMPORTANT?!"

He got his answer

His wings torn to shreds, chunks of flesh bitten off him and slashes all over his body

He was left in human world bleeding and barely recognisable

They didn't hold back

He dread to think what the rest of them would do when they find him

[sunseteyes]

THE RED ROSES IN WONDERLAND; T. KAMADO

theme/s: alice in wonderland & brave inspired. a beginning; where the child of the red king meets the one that is fated to bring peace in the land. 

word count: 1,957 words

roze’s note: i suddenly wanted to write this as a multi-chapter but let’s see~ if my schedule permits it, why not? also, what do you think? should i really??

a sigh leaves your lips as your eyes glances over the same flowers every single day. yes, the flowers were indeed beautiful, but whenever you see the color red, you just can't help but feel that coiling of your stomach and the tightening in your throat.

everyone thinks you don't know of the blood that spills on your father's hands, but you do, and you're only pretending you don't.

just as you were about to turn back to the house, a figure catches your attention and you immediately recognized who it was.

"nosuke! you're back!" your mood brightened immediately at the only one whom you could call a friend in the whole land. despite being surrounded by lots of individuals and loyal subjects, your guard is still always up and you never full trusted all of them—except inosuke.

it was explainable though. he's the only one who is not entirely by your father's side but he can still manage to stay alive. as the record keeper of wonderland, inosuke the white rabbit is more like the neutral individual. he doesn't have a side to pick on and that's why you don't have a problem opening up to him at all.

"how was your travel to the other side? did you bring a souvenir for me?" you excitedly approached the boy and his ears twitched at the sound of your voice, his head turning around to face you with his beautiful face that you sometimes envy upon. he's probably the prettiest you'd ever seen in the whole land!—as if you'd seen everyone yet. you never got to get out much aside from the forest because your father insists that you must stay safe and not act hostile because you are a royal, the future ruler of the reds, after him.

you didn't want to adapt your father's way of ruling but you can't also say no to him. it's not that you were afraid but mostly because you love him too much to hurt him. he raised you with the outmost care and compassion he could give. the only thing you could give back to him is by abiding in his rules and obeying him by following his footsteps.

but you can't kill anyone either.

"huh? souvenir? i was there for work, you know! you can't just order me to do something when i've got other things to do." you smiled at inosuke's response. harsh as it may seem to others, you know it was his way of conversing to someone he doesn't particularly call his "minion". he can be a bit superior against others but it's what you admire most in your friend.

"wait, inosuke. i heard you brought someone from the other side. is that true?"

your question seemed to have made him tense for a second but it vanished as soon as it came. you realized then that it must have been the same question your father might have asked him that's why the rabbit was summoned there.

"you mean gonpachiro? he's not going to stay here for long. the portal will open a week after, there's no need to worry about the legend."

ah, so that's what it is, you thought.

there's a legend in wonderland that there will come a time that someone from "the other side" will come and give a path to peace between the white and the red, making the land as one as it can be. looking at it now, many have lost hope that the legend was not even often said anymore. yet, it is also a fear for others, especially the royals since peace will result to a singular leadeship.

it's either one will back down and give way so the other will rule all over wonderland, or one will have to fall in misery as the other rises in victory,

either way, you're sure your father will never like the idea of that unless he will be the ruler.

"i'm not worried about the legend." you say, looking up a inosuke's eyes. "i'm more worried about this gonpachiro you're talking about. you know how my father works."

inosuke's lips seals tight at your words. you have kept from everyone aside from inosuke about your knowledge of your father's dirty works but until now, inosuke seems bothered about it.

now you don't really socialize with the others in your household much and you usually keep your distant most of the time. one of the main reasons why was because of your father—he often tells you never to trust anyone, including the ones that are loyal to them. you agreed in his logic for the reason that his loyal subjects are the ones that obeys his orders and has the capability of killing anyone. you never liked that idea, even if you don't show or tell it to others, especially your father. he'd be very disappointed if that so happens.

this results to a lot of free time for yourself. with an idea you got from the back of your head, you begun to imitate how your father's loyal subjects often train around the palace.

by training, it meant drawing a weapon and using it constantly for you to get used to it. at first, you thought of it as something you do in your past time. however as moments passes by and more killings were done in the red kingdom, you decided it was for your own safety. you never know when time will come when someone tries to avenge their lost loved one because of your father. as the only heir to the throne and the ones that carries the king's own blood, you will surely be the best prey for a predator.

drawing back your arm, narrowing your eyes and casting a breath, you let go of the tail of the arrow, watching it hit the target whilst quickly reaching for another one and repeat the process.

eleven years. it took eleven years for you to master the art of archery.

at first, you tried with knives, swords and even a fan—which was the weapon of one of your father's loyal subjects. yet, the bow and arrows were the only ones you had gotten a connection too. thus, it served you as your main weapon that you had learned throughout the years without any guidance from anyone.

your father didn't like the idea of you fighting for your own. even if you had kept your training a secret all these years. you had a feeling he knows about it and he was either already pleased about it or he's too disappointed that you were keeping it a secret that he wants you to confess it to him instead of confronting you.

your hair flutters under the influence of the wind as you balanced on your horse, already used to its movement and shifts as he glides through the trees of the forest.

you locked your eyes on a target however as you shot the arrow, a figure catches your attention and it was too late.

"look out!"

you were quite sure that the figure was so a hair-strand away from getting hit yet it dodges, the arrow marking a perfect score on the target on a tree trunk.

you halted your horse and ushers it towards the figure's way, your mind failing to recognize what it was.

"who are you?" you made eye contact with the boy, the crimson in his hair resonating his orbs that were certainly of a different hues than your father and the roses in your garden.

he looks... different. far too unique from the people in the palace.

"how did you gain access in here? from what i remember i told everyone that only i should be of use of the forest." your brows furrow at the sight of him, your guard up just in case he will try something.

although, his face displayed of a gentleness that you had not seen for the longest time—was there ever been a moment, even? that you don't know. from what you can recall, everyone only respected you because of your title.

not because of you yourself.

"don't be alarmed! i bring you no harm, your highness!" he raises both of his hands up as a sign of surrender, his voice tainted of assurance and calmness that no burglar or man with ill-intention would have.

you still refuse to trust him.

"how will i know of your claims?" your grip on your bow tightens, prepared of any kind of attack. "what's your name, stranger?"

he seems to be at ease with your questioning, making you curious even further.

"i am tanjiro kamado. i... the white rabbit and the mad hatter sent me here. he thought i could be of help to you, your highness."

"help? why would i need that?"

then inosuke and zenitsu? why would they send this boy without telling it to you beforehand?

"you need to know what the red king is doing. he needs to be stopped. inosuke told me only you are capable to do that."

"i already know of my father's schemes." your lips tighten in your words, being the second time to have told your secret, you were beginning to think it was a wrong move.

the boy named tanjiro looked surprised, betrayed even. could it be that inosuke lied to him? you guesses that might not be the case.

"you mean... you know that he's planning to start a war against the white kingdom...?" there was hope and uncertainty in his voice, a mixture that you had deemed obvious with how he toned it. however, it was least of your worries for his words had processed in your mind first.

a war? now that you don't know about.

"where have you gotten this idea?" you question him further. "i... i never heard of that."

he seems to have perked up at your last statement, his aura changing in a millisecond.

"muzan learned of my coming here. you know of the legend, right? i didn't know if it at first but i was warned that my arrival would cause great chaos in this world." it had been awhile since you've heard someone use your father's name.

that fact alone changed your perspective on the boy.

climbing down your horse, your garments sticking to your skin as the slight formation of the sweat from your training. without letting go of your bow, you stood in front of tanjiro, feeling like the world had stopped at how you were feeling the beginning of change in you and your household.

looking straight into his eyes, you spoke.

"yes, that is a fact." you scanned his face and found a genuineness that you were not used of seeing as a result of being in a place with people that wore a firm and strict expression constantly. you were getting tired of it.

wait, no. you are tired of it.

"but your coming here is a sign of hope." your muscles eases up at how you let it out all in one go, "you will be the source of peace in wonderland, tanjiro kamado."

all your teenage years you spent on being silent. now that you were getting close to your coronation, it is time to show everyone what is needed to be done,

and with this boy in front of you, you felt as if the coil in your stomach contort back and relax, a ray of light showing you the path that you should take in order for you to succeed in stopping your own father from destroying the land you call home and the king that has the same blood that runs in your veins.

[loyally-unfaithful]

pairing: rengoku kyojuro x gn!reader

genre: fluff

a/n: henlo is me again, i’ve never owned cats and it shows i made this into headcanon format, but if you were looking for something feel free to resend a request c: alrighty hope you like it

edit: i know this is a super long time since this ask was actually sent to me?? and i honestly have no excuses to give. i’m really sorry to whoever sent the request: i was just procrastinating and then covid hit and my motivation plunged even lower. i know this is not much, and it’s probably ooc to all hell but i do hope you like it.

so ok, here’s the premise: you just moved out of your old residence, whether it was a flat or a house—you’re outta there! you is gone !

and ur friend or flatmate had a litter of cats and u just couldn't help urself but adopt one. they were just that cute.

so u did.

got that bad boi for free too, what a bargain!

and anyway u love that bastard with all ur heart.

it's just a bastard but she’s your bastard so it's all good.

very adorable dainty catto, and you took her to the vets to get her checked up, vaccinated, dewormed, and all that good stuff to make sure she will have a long and healthy lifespan.

u recall that u need to bring her in within 6 months to get her spayed so that there wouldn’t be an accidental litter. the operation is postponed since rn she’s too small, and ur like.

ok, i'll see u in 6 months.

that was 3 months ago.

now u moved out into a new apartment, with ur precious catto in tow.

after u finished bringing in all your boxes and furnitures and such, you thought to yourself, “hey, why not start this new chapter in life with a good start by acquainting myself with my neighbours”.

and that's exactly what u did: u gathered like, a packet of strawberries, and went over to the flat directly in front of urs while rehearsing what you will say in your head.

as you reached the other side and pressed the doorbell, you wondered who lived behind those doors…

first you’ll introduce yourself by name.

maybe it was a married couple? maybe even with a family?

and after that, you’ll tell them that you just recently moved in.

or perhaps it would be some elderly gentleman or lady?

and then, you will hand the gifts over and express that you hoped that the two of you will get along—something like that.

worst case scenario, the person is some weirdo… you hoped not…

the door finally opens with a click and you begin to recite what you had practiced:

« hey my name is... » your voice tapers off as you fully took in the person greeting you.

your voice disappears, meeting someone you absolutely did not expect. out of all the possibilities, you did not think for a moment that your neighbour would be the handsome young man with piercing golden eyes, lustrous locks of bright yellow hair, and an even brighter smile, standing before you.

were you staring? you were staring weren’t you? you realised in embarrassment that you were staring at the man, who was probably confused to all hell as to why you appeared on his front doors.

fighting your urge to combust and run away, you introduced yourself following the script you made up (though with more stutters than originally intended) and brusquely handed the berries over.

he happily takes your gift, repeating your name, assuring you that he was listening. it’s so stupid, but the way he says your name makes your stomach do flips. « well, welcome! he says enthusiastically. i’m rengoku kyojuro! i hope you enjoy it here! »

and that was that.

you mechanically went back to your flat, face burning and nervousness still clawing at you.

you’d say that you got adjusted to this new life pretty quickly. you seldom visited kyojuro as you were too embarrassed to pop by and chit-chat as often as you would’ve preferred to—dreading the thought of crossing him on your way to your own flat whenever you went home—but otherwise everything had been good.

alas, your cat was now 5 months old and oh boy.

something tells you your cat was entering its heat cycle or something—you were a first time cat-owner, but you had an inkling.

if your cat’s sudden affectionate, or over-affectionate, streak and unexpected attention seeking behaviour was anything to go by. she would roll on the floor, rub herself all over you and leave fluff all over your clothes, and yells.

she screm!

most stressful of all was how she absolutely wanted to escape to the outside, but you were not having it. you did not want kittens. one cat is enough thank you.

but nope, your wishes were in vain as one day, she just fucking disappeared—god knows where she is , she’s just somewhere.

understandably, you lost your shit and panicked because holy hell your cat escaped!!!

you went around to look for her, with no luck, and you were absolutely heartbroken.

that was until like??? 2 months later and you went to open a drawer to get some socks and lo and behold!

A CAT

and not just any cat! your cat! AND NOT JUST YOUR CAT! but also a bunch of other smaller cats, also known as kittens!

at this point, you weren’t even upset at the thought that you fucked up and ended up having kittens—you were just happy your cat is back and alive and well and back home. who knows how she entered back into the house.

who cares??

your cat is back!!

you’ll just have to spay her once she’s done nursing.

but as you watched over the litter, which looked like your cat but also another cat, you began to see a resemblance between their orange fur and caprisun, kyojuro’s ginger maine coon!!

and now everything makes sense…  

body working on autopilot, both because of how tired you were after watching over the cats and also because you were still dissociating from the realisation, you stiffly made your way to your neighbour and ringed the doorbell… ignoring the fact that this was now 2 in the morning.

you had to tell him, or confirm or do something with this new knowledge. his sleep can wait.

surprisingly, he answered the door without you having to ring him a second time. unsurprisingly, he looked tired and was ???? at you summoning him at such an odd time in the evening.

« i know that we don’t really talk, you started. but i need to show you something: i think your cat might have gotten my cat pregnant?? »

that caught the blond’s attention enough to wash the grogginess away from his face, and he followed you back to your flat.

normally the idea that a stranger, a good looking stranger no less, was going into your flat would fluster you, but right now you were a man with a plan, you had something to do and that was to show kyojuro the litter of cats.

he was surprised when he saw them, but confirmed that you were probably right, and that his male cat had probably gotten to your cat during her disappearance.

at this point you were a little bit (a lot) overwhelmed by the responsibility that came along with being a parent (and a grandparent), so you were about to ask him to help you coparent for the little buggers.

but he suggested it before you had the chance to, taking initiative:

« then! he expressed emphatically. we must raise this little kitty family together! kyojuro declared. »

and thus began your misadventures together as cat parents.

even though you both had work and a multitude of other things to do during the day (kyojuro still has his own cat to take care of, for that matter), you made it work—perhaps through sheer stubbornness and desire to make things right.

if anything, this whole ordeal cemented the fact that you were officially put off from having real children: if taking care of kittens was this demanding, imagine a whole actual human baby.

no way, no thanks.

you’re good.

hard pass.

funnily enough, after taking turns to take care of the cats and after the shifts to watch over them, you two had become fast friends. despite your reluctance with meeting him again after your disastrous greeting, you found yourself being very comfortable being in his presence and getting used to having him over in your flat (for the cats, of course).

but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy spending time with kyojuro, conversing with him and learning more about each other as you both opened up to one another.

it was when he beamed at a joke you made, wearing his signature exuberant smile and laughing a laugh that you found so adorable, that you realised that you were in too deep. that you were definitely catching feels.

sometimes, you wished that you two would’ve been more than just friends. you wince at the thought that the two of you drift apart after this whole mess was over. but you pushed that inevitability away from your mind.

for the most part, nothing noteworthy ever happened as you took care of the kittens as the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm.

one day, while you were both taking care of the cats, his exhaustion got the best of him and kyojuro fell asleep. you found him dozing off on the couch when you walked in, and you had to stop for a moment and tiptoe in the piece because of how peaceful he looked as he was resting. it was incredible how impeccable he looked, awake or asleep.

secretly, you took a picture, capturing this moment forever. he looks adorable. you’ll probably show the image later and tell him that he can take it easy for a while seeing as he was worn out and that you just received a few days off.

speaking of sleeping on duty, you’ve caught yourself passing out once or twice (ok a few times, more than just once or twice), but the weirdest part of all was that you would always wake up on your bed instead of wherever you fell asleep.

butterflies would go feral in ur stomach at the implication that kyojuro had been carrying your sleeping form to your bedroom.

but that was what has been happening right?

you think that at some point, you had fallen asleep on kyojuro… but to save yourself from the embarrassment, you chalk that up to your imagination running wild or a dream.

a few months into this ordeal, he pulled you over to another room to talk privately to you (ignoring the fact that there wasn’t anyone else in your apartment except for the cats).

he seemed to carry himself with a hesitance or shyness that was never there, and you found yourself dreading what he was about to tell you. what kind of bomb was he about to drop on you?

before starting, he paused for a moment, resolute… or was that a look of determination in his eyes? you didn’t know what to expect and it made you worried.

« i have something i need to tell you, convey to you! he started, confidence not lost in his voice. there is a burning passion in my heart, and it was about time that i listened to it! i know we’ve only met just recently, but after our time together i realised that i have feelings for you! he uttered your name again, with such gentleness and softness that it made your heart tighten. i like you! »

« i like you too!! you responded quickly, too quickly. you winced at how loud you unintentionally were, but he didn't seem to pay attention. »

instead, a radiant smile graced his features as he realised that you shared the same sentiment. and the same smile spread on your face, happy that he returned your feelings.

slowly, he moved closer to you and like a magnet, you mirrored him.

perhaps a bit hesitant, you could feel the ghost of a kiss over your lips as he leaned towards you, inching ever closer to each other.

but as your lips were about to connect, you hear crying from the other room…

the cats!

you two jerked away from each other, alerted by the sound, before looking back at each other, dumbfounded.

after what felt like an eternity but also an instant, a chuckle escaped you as you began to laugh uncontrollably—overwhelmed by giddiness and the sheer absurdity of this entire situation—and the blond followed suit, laughing along with you.

as you calmed down, your eyes found each other and the two of you just smiled.

the both of you wore brilliant smiles, and you were floored by the tenderness he held for you.

you look like a mess.

and he looks like a mess.

and you're both tired beyond belief.

but you’re both really happy.

and really happy to have each other.

(and your cats of course).

you’ll have to thank your cat later for helping you meet this wonderful person.

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

[ardentprose]

College Boyfriend: Jungkook

Warnings: language, suggestive/sexual themes, boyfriend jungkook

Dating college-aged Jungkook...

Would be annoying as hell

he’s the type to piss you off whenever he’s bored

which happens alot because this boy. does. NOT. study.

which is stressful for you because at exactly 1 am every night he comes to you with his dumb shit-eating grin and his mint textbook because he never uses it

and begs you with not even a morsel of regret because he knows you’ll help him

otherwise how will you two graduate on time to move to the city together?? that rent will not be paid on one income

“baaaabe. what’s on the exam tomorrow?”

“Wow, i’m shocked you even knew there was an exam this time.”

“TaeTae just quit our game so he could go study and now i’m bored”

if you simply rolled your eyes and kept typing away at your paper he would drop his textbook loudly on the edge of your desk or if you’re in bed on your legs without hesitation

earning your death glare that does not phase him

he snakes his rock-hard arms around your tummy and nuzzles his face into your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and blinding you in your right eye

“pleasssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” 

“ALRIGHT BUT THIS IS THE LAST TIME!”

alas

it was not the last time

bored jungkook would show up at your dormitory on the daily and you’d know because either

all the girls get real giggly out of nowhere

or he’s brought his entire squad and even the RAs are swooning over the seven boys clearly breaking the rules by being present in a girls’ dorm

he would never knock but just shout until you heard him through the door and your headphones

but of course your neighbors didn’t care

sometimes they’d even answer their doors first and by the time you let jungkook in he was already waist-deep in ranting about a battle gone wrong on league of legends and the regret in the girl’s eyes caused you to take pity rather than get jealous

he was Never allowed to bring all the boys in your pathetically small room so they would either scatter and explore this sacred paradise or line up obediently in the hallway, winking at the girls as they passed

bored jungkook lays his stinky feet on your thighs after working in the gym

he shakes the sweat from his hair onto you and will offer you his shirt and as soon as you turn your head, sometimes accepting the shirt blindly, he’s cackling as you hurtle the dead-cat smelling shirt across your room

bored jungkook will make up names inspired by his twitter feed and call you each one until you laugh or smack his closest body part

“babe. baby girl. bae. my boo. main chick. girl with the good hair who’s not becky because i only love you. mamacita. miss thicc. my skinny legend. sweetheart. brat (that’s YOU, jungkook). my ult bia AND my bias wrecker. my all-kill. yummy yumm- (NO!)

but sometimes bored jungkook was really sweet

there were times he was exhausted of his testosterone flooded environment and texted you in the most polite millennial format you had ever seen

“can we netflix and chill but like really just chill?”

baby boi jungkook is activated as soon as you reply ‘yes’

he shows up with a blanket and a hoodie he’s wearing but its for you because he would rather be shirtless and snuggling you under the blanket’s heat

and of course he brings exclusive “Y/N and Me snacks” from his many shelves of Jungkook Snacks

no lie he punched jin in the face because jin ate your favorite oreos and jungkook had saved up to buy those

okay so he accidentally hit jin while wrestling them out of his grip

you greet him with a kiss on each cheek and his eyes become adoring stars as he literally follows you around your room. he stands at the bathroom entrance and watches you get ready for bed. he waits patiently by the bed as you clear it of your study materials

you set everything up he strips his hoodie off and hands it to you

his arms again around your waist and this time he keeps his hair in a bun so it doesn’t tickle your nose and make you sneeze even tho your sneezes make him giggle

he kisses your lips at least four times while you surf netflix not offering suggestions because he only wants to watch anime or whatever you wanna watch

his love for romantic korean dramas started with you which is funny seeing as he’s had an entire lifetime to watch these with taehyung repeatedly recommending them 

tae is not happy that it took a girl to convince jk to sit down and watch Boys Over Flowers

or even Strong Woman Do Bong Soon which was made for jungkook like c’mon-

and if a couple breaks up on screen, fighting and screaming he instinctively grips you tighter and presses his lips against the pulse in your neck for comfort and assurance

his wide doe eyes are glassy as they fight but they absolutely flood when the couple makes up

jk will whip his head into the hood behind your head and hide his tears while you stroke his forearm and interlace your fingers with his

most nights jungkook falls asleep on your shoulder before the first episode ends

some nights the first ten minutes have barely passed before you realize soft boi jungkook was a ruse and his hands are up his sweatshirt on your torso, cupping your boobs and mouthing at your neck and

dang nabbit you’ve been bamboozled AGAIN

but fuck is it hot the way his teeth pull the skin on your neck, going back in to suck on it and repeat the process until red blooms like an abstract necklace

and if you’re too lost in the feeling of his fingers circling your skin leaving traces of fire he’ll remove one hand and cup your cheek turning your jaw to interlock with his

thus a makeout session ensues

at some point you’re pulling the hair tie from his head and weaving your fingers through the wavy thick strands, moaning at that sensation alone

but your roommate usually comes in before you get very far

or annoying jungkook returns and he pulls away breathless but a smirk flashing on his lips as he glances over your shoulder 

“its curfew...gotta go”

jungkook is actually very smart and very talented

like the best in his film production class AND his art studies class AND best athlete on the football team

he would be best dancer but hoseok claimed that title and jungkook has made it his personal mission to surpass the dancing legend before either of them graduate

he always holds your hand while walking to class

runs up and snatches your hand, kissing your cheek in greeting

uses your interlocked hands to pull your arm around his shoulder, cup your waist and kiss you for good luck before your test

always leaves his friends to come say hi

uses his extra college-given bucks to buy you a coffee or a meal in the cafeteria if you forgot your money 

lets you use him as a chair if all the seats in the library are taken or even if they’re not and plays with your hair with one hand, phone in the other while you study for the both of you

everyone on campus knows jungkook is top of the line but everyone on campus thinks you’re top tier for wooing the man

that annoying student who guesses the answer and gets it right

if namjoon can hate another human being it’s jungkook in philosophy spouting off A-class bullshit and getting praise from the teacher

then having the audacity to ask for namjoon’s notes

college boyfriend jungkook may be your typical jock in physique but his heart is kind and protective and he knows how to balance time with his friends and time with you

well no thats a lie

he spends 99% of his time loving you

[kimbrrleee]

It’s been six years since September when she left us, but I missing my Grammy a little bit more than usual tonight. Seeing the ornament she made me for my first Christmas always makes it more real. I’m going to share a little bit about her tonight, I hope you don’t mind. This is what it wrote in my journal the day after she passed and what I read at her memorial service. (sorry about the formatting, I don’t understand tumblr’s spacing)

My beautiful Grammy lost her battle with cancer yesterday.

I am still trying to process all of this. This really the best way I can do it right now. Its not going to be terribly coherent or organized but I am just going to let you all in on some of my  memories with her. Putting them down is hopefully going to help fill the void I have in my heart right now so I hope you enjoy it...

 In preparation for writing this, I lit a candle and put on Frank Sinatra radio on iTunes radio.

I didnt even get halfway through the first song before I realized I was not ready for that yet.

My Grammy loved Sinatra.

In fact, it was something the two of us bonded over. I remember sitting in the living room of my parents house with my phone and a dock playing a mix of Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett.. etc.

We would just sit there and sing. No need for words. Every so often I would look over at her and I could tell that she was someplace other than chandler. See, my Grammy had the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and had trouble remembering quite a bit. However when I turned on that music you could see the warmth in her eyes and the little smile that crept across her face. She would sing harmony for a little bit and then lament about how her singing voice wasn't as good as it once was. (It always sounded beautiful to me. I would give anything to hear it again.) Then after a few more songs would go by she would say how happy she was that I loved this music as much as she did. "Most of the youngins these days... they dont listen to the old people music." She would tell me I had an old soul, and I would tell her she had a big hand in it. Every so often I would drag out my ukulele and play "Cant Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley. Even though I had played it for her so many times, she would always react like it was the first. She would start crying and telling me how beautiful it was and how much she adored Elvis. Elvis was Grammy's big crush. Even the mention of his name would send her into a tizzy. I remember a time I was at the dollar store and I picked up an Elvis magnet for her. She started crying a bit and kept repeating how much she wished he was still alive. It was the cutest thing ever. My Grammy was everything you would expect a Grandma to be. Sweet, hilarious, wise and a little ornery. One of my earliest memories of my Grammy was when I was (i think) 4 or 5 years old and we were visiting her in Florida. She wanted me to eat peas, and I didnt. So I took the peas, put them in my spoon, and flung them across the kitchen. She never let me forget that. She was a firm believer in horoscopes and would read the paper every morning just so she could tell me what my day would be like. She would tell me that when there was a full moon I should run outside and pray to it because it would give me money. She would scold me whenever I even though about wasting food. Followed promptly by a long dissertation about how she grew up in the Great Depression and were not afforded the opportunity to waste anything. She would feed the dogs scraps from the table even if she knew my mom would be upset. Nothing ever went to waste. She would always try to get me to dress up like a lady. She was disapproving of my tattered, dirty jeans and got so excited on the rare occasion I would wear a dress. Grammy was a straight shooter. Always said what was on her mind whether we wanted to hear it or not. I distinctly remember telling me "Kimmy, before you were born I had wished you were a boy. But I guess since you love football, beer, whiskey and bluejeans its gonna be the closest ill get." (I totally took it as a compliment) She was the most gracious person on this planet. When I would swing by and pick her up food on the way home she would always say "Thank you for thinking of me" about 8 or 9 times. She was always surprised but always so grateful when we would spend time with her. When she was diagnosed with lung cancer about a month ago, my world stopped. I never had to associate the words family and cancer. I had been lucky enough to not have encountered death in my immediate or extended family. I didnt know how to function... and I still dont. She was admitted to the hospital and I left right after work to go visit with her. She turned on "Catfish" and I tried to explain to her the main objective of the show. She was almost as amused as she was confused. I was still hopeful at the time because she hadn't been officially diagnosed. I was talking to her about how she's gotta stay there for a bit because we want her to get better and come home. Well she did come home, just not the way we had hoped.

She was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer and the decision was made to not seek treatment. Hospice was set up and my parents dogs did not leave her side for the following weeks. I would make it a point to get there as much as possible. I would listen to music with her like we always did but this time she wasnt singing. As much as it broke my heart, I could still see the twinkle in her eye and I knew she was singing on the inside. When things were getting bad, we had almost all of the family over to be with her. She kept saying how happy she was and how "everything is going the way I want it to". That was all I needed to hear to find closure. The very last memory I had with her was last week: I gently kissed her swollen hand and whispered "I love you" I dont know when I will be able to listen to the likes of Sinatra and Elvis again... I can still hear her silly little chuckle in the back of my head. I can hear her saying "God I wish I had your energy" when I would dance stupidly across the living room or "looking good girl!" every other time I would pass by her. I still can't believe she's gone. It tears me up inside. But I take solace in knowing she went peacefully knowing that she has so many people who love her. I can just imagine her being united with the love of her life, my Grandpa Ed, after being separated for 60 years. And I can guarantee she is asking Elvis and Sinatra for an autograph.

[ghostmartyr]

So if you, like me, have nothing to do but wonder about the state of my inbox, you might rightfully be wondering how I plan to deal with the obscene backlog I have spent so many years failing to deal with.

If you have never wondered that, fear not, that doesn’t exclude you from finding out.

Today we’re just going to go through my entire slew of unanswered asks, and instead of answering them, I am going to provide excuses for why I didn’t do anything with them.

For added fun, several of the asks were in my Drafts.

I will not be cutting out the comments I started to make.

I will no doubt regret this.

Let’s have a time, shall we?

I don’t even know what year this is from. If I remember correctly, I didn’t get back to you because I thought about trying to reason out who would legitimately win, and there were too many points for both sides. I kept intending to come up with a proper answer, then time went by and this got buried.

Though the actual answer is probably “it depends on who gets the main character sticker at the time.”

...

..

.

Well.

I can tell you this is multiple years old.

We, as humans, aren’t equipped for time travel.

I didn’t answer this one because I didn’t feel like it was asking for one, and I’m only reproducing it here because it is really, really funny now.

Two years old. Plus change.

I think the entire reason I never replied to this one is that it cheered me up whenever I scrolled down enough to see it, so thank you.

You know, I entered the link at the time. Really, I did. But then came trying to come up with a comment and what can you really follow that with?

(Click the link.)

Okay then.

I still feel no need to respond to this, so that’s probably why I didn’t to start with.

Historia and literally anyone.

I don’t remember why I didn’t answer this, which usually means some combination of feeling tired and not being in the mood to scroll down to where it was.

Oops.

The thing is, this crosses dangerously close to being a fic idea. Fic ideas take time and effort. You can imagine the absolute dread I felt at having to engage with either concept.

It would have been a lot of fun to do, though. Hats off.

See, again. This is a very interesting concept that requires thought. I can tell you when I received it I was in no mood for anything that required anything of the sort.

I wrote a fic that is possibly never going to see the light of day now where they hang out in a kitchen with hot chocolate together and bond through unstated trauma and Frieda attempting to make things better.

That probably contributed to interfering with imagining how they would actually get along.

Anyway, I ship them slightly in that fic AU. Don’t @ me.

Oh dang. I remember this.

I actually really wanted to answer it, but the problem is that I wanted to come up with a good answer. Every character, tiered by their chances. A full Hunger Games edition of what went down and who killed who.

Then I didn’t.

Anyway, turns out the answer is that no one feels the need to chop of rocking chairs in a hurry, so she’d last a long time!

I didn’t answer this because I try to avoid responding with, “I don’t know.” My secondary answer would probably have been, “By being killed.”

Not that there’s anything wrong with those answers, but unless there’s been a tonal trend in asks, I assume that pithy answers that don’t actually have any meat behind them would not be appreciated.

I would stick to him probably being killed, though. But some signs do point to him being relatively immortal.

Hm.

Hmm.

I don’t know why I didn’t answer this, but I would guess it had something to do with me caring very little about Ymir’s thoughts on anything outside of her little clutch of people. And ongoing trauma of repeated dead/alive Ymir commentary killing off my desire to come up with a good answer.

Sorry?

I... have no idea why I didn’t answer this? Maybe I didn’t see it?

Anyway, yes.

There’s a longer version behind that yes, and I’m sure that might have contributed to never getting around to answering this. ...Assuming a past where I did actually see this one.

I have a confession.

I don’t really like crossovers.

There’s a sliding scale of degree, but that’s basically why this didn’t get a response.

Ah, we’ve landed on a recurring theme.

Sometimes, answers involve me thinking about the entire cast.

The usual consequence of that is I don’t have the energy for that, so nothing ever happens with these.

Oh, this one’s easy.

I had no fucking clue.

No ideas, head empty.

That didn’t seem like a good answer, so here we are, probably around a year later. I still have no clue. If I were forced to write a singing duo AU, I would probably just put some adjectives and nouns into a blender and flip a coin.

Names are hard.

I think I didn’t answer this one because I felt like I’d answered similar asks before. And I’m not really sure when this is from, but it’s possible canon complicated coming up with an answer that wasn’t distressed screeching.

Something something give Connie and Mikasa hugs, not partial about where they get them from.

Apparently not. Oops.

I can’t remember why I didn’t respond to this one. It’s possible the oodles of bad parenting proved too distracting to formulate such a post.

Sometimes I get an ask, and my immediate, gut reaction is, how the fuck should I know?

If I can move past that, the ask is answered.

If I can’t, the ask continues its descent through scroll hell.

I am sorry. There are no answers here.

Yeah, this is just the same as the above, just with I have no idea.

It’d probably be a Madoka Magic deal.

Huh. I don’t remember passing this one over. If I were to guess a timeline, I was probably too bitter over potential post-timeskip looks that I never got to be interested in focusing on the characters lucky enough to get good ones.

Go Connie for being less short, I suppose.

This clearly belonged to something that I was doing, but time has eroded the context, so I am simply left with failure and disappointment on all sides. Sorry.

Aw, we’re getting into the boring part of the inbox now, I think. Not because of the questions; you guys are always great. But I can’t think of a reason why I wouldn’t have answered this, which leads me to think that the reason was I was too tired to put words together.

That’s a boring reason, so maybe I should go into Drafts for the next few...

Yeah, still unfairly prejudiced against crossovers. I am no fun, etc. etc.

I have no memory of it, but I feel like I didn’t answer this because there was no way I could match this kindly anon’s enthusiasm.

You go, random internet person.

You have good ideas.

Oh no.

Uh.

See.

I know exactly why I didn’t answer this one.

I am so sorry, Anon.

I really didn’t care.

I am filled with affection for you because you clearly do, but uh.

...I basically put this on Read.

This has a very simple, ie boring, explanation. Any time someone asks about the cast as a whole, I want to think about the cast as a whole, and that takes a lot more thought than most of the asks I get. Cue putting it off. Cue it getting lost in scroll hell. On and on we go until we end up here.

Anything that opens with kilometers is something that requires more brain power than I have had in the past year.

Also I think I got this during a spoiler week, so I saw it, but I was trying not to look at it, and then it got lost in the post-chapter asks.

That happens a lot.

We might see it more soon.

If I can’t come up with words more than “-shrug-” I try not to answer.

...Good news, though!

The manga did my job for me!

I feel like I answered some variation of this. That might be why I didn’t answer this specific one.

The wiki does a better job keeping track of the timeline than I ever have. I probably didn’t answer this because it would involve trying to remember which volume actually name-dropped a number of weeks or months. Searching for lines I know a character said is pretty easy, but searching out lines I have a vague feeling of someone providing? That tends to hit the frustration button with the force of a truck.

But yeah, if you ever want to know how long something took, the wiki is absolutely your friend. They do good work.

Consider: “What if” questions are hard, and I am lazy.

This is actually one I really did mean to get to, sorry. It’s an interesting thought, and I miss Sasha.

...I clearly did a magnificent job answering your asks, friend.

Prediction asks are hard for me; I feel like I’m throwing darts randomly into the air and the dartboard is still deciding if it’s going to show up. So uh. I guess I just kept putting this off until it didn’t get answered.

This post is going to have so many apologies. Implied and otherwise.

I continue to be the No Fun Police who accidentally-on-purpose avoids crossover commentary.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one entirely because seeing it in my inbox gave me far too much joy to have it lost in a sea of posts.

This is what my inbox was made for.

I have no idea when this was from, but I see your emotions and appreciate them, Anon.

...Did I not see this one?

Hey, Anon who probably doesn’t remember sending this: This is a good ask and deserved some good attention, and I’m sorry I missed my shot at it. Good thoughts.

I didn’t answer this one entirely because I knew I couldn’t match the energy of it, and responding with anything less felt heretical.

That is one hell of a mood, Anon.

This is definitely from the era of, “Can’t think, brain empty.” Sorry about not getting back to you, I just really couldn’t organize my thoughts well enough to come up with an answer.

I feel like I didn’t know what this was continuing from and was too exhausted to ask.

LOOK YOU CAN SEE I WANTED TO ANSWER THIS BECAUSE IT’S A DRAFT.

Too many things, Anon.

I liked so many things about all of that. Trying to turn that enthusiasm into words wasn’t agreeing with me, so I put it in Drafts and told myself one day I’d do the most awesome post detailing everything.

Intentions, huh?

Every time I tried to take a normal screenshot with formatting Tumblr just laughed at me, so that might have been a contributing factor.

Dang, I’m really sorry. This is another one of those cases where I wanted to take my time with a response, and I took too long.

I, uh.

Am guilty of not being too interested in pondering Ymir’s thoughts on Levi or Erwin.

That’s it, that’s the explanation.

Yeah, I just couldn’t come up with an answer here? Or someone else asked? Or several of my friends decided to be annoying about lists on Discord? I don’t even know.

Presumably there could be a list.

There is not.

Honestly, I just couldn’t figure out how to follow that starting sentence up. A thought exercise on Armin, Historia, gender, and themes sounded really interesting, and I put it in Drafts so as not to forget it being interesting.

Then, you know. This post sort of paints the picture.

Ah.

Man, I really was looking forward to putting some proper thought into this. That’s the problem with having so many things I love in one place, I guess. Symbolism? Historia and Ymir? Mikasa? So many good things! Where do I start!

With paralyzing indecision that results in not a lot. Sorry, Anon. This really did light up my day when I got it.

Here’s the thing about me and writing:

I often fail to.

(I love both these ideas, though.)

Yes.

Do I know why I didn’t get around to answering this?

Absolutely not.

But yes, I’d agree with that.

GOOD NEWS!

The manga actually gave us some of them together in the future.

I occasionally giggled over their shared distaste.

It was a good time.

And this is another one I just do not know why I didn’t answer, whoops.

This never got answered because I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Broad questions are scary because they can go just about anywhere and I didn’t know how to handle that level of commitment.

I think I didn’t answer this one, A), because words are hard, and B), because mostly I just wanted to listen to more of your wondering and less of mine.

I probably could have answered this by saying I don’t have any, but that seemed rude, so I didn’t respond to it at all.

Yep.

Frieda is worthy of my time and effort.

Landing this in Drafts instead of my inbox.

Where the lighting makes it more obvious that hope has gone there to die.

I think about it so much too.

I find the answers fundamentally upsetting.

That is probably why I did not provide an answer here.

That is a lot of kids to make up headcanons for.

So I didn’t.

She’s eaten by dogs before she develops a personality.

Since that seemed like the wrong thing to say, I said nothing, and into Drafts this went.

‘I have no earthly clue’ seemed similarly unhelpful.

At this point, we understand that there is no mystery to my backlog.

This one hurts.

-sees the 112 reference-

Wow does it hurt.

As I hope is obvious, I really, really loved this question, and kept meaning to carve out time to work on it specifically. What went sideways was trying to put words to how EMA functions. I knew the feel of what I wanted to express, but every time I tried to write it, it came out wonky.

I’m very sorry I couldn’t do anything for this, because I was thrilled to spend time with it.

I didn’t answer this because Fuck Marley.

It’s nothing against you. At the time, I simply wasn’t in any mood to consider any version of Marley. Even the canon version was too much for me, so giving it my time in a roleswap AU had me hissing.

Roleswaps in general are amazing, and I love them a lot. A dedicated person could make a fantastic one based around Marley and Paradis. I think it would probably be cool af.

But I was so tired of Marley when I got this, I just couldn’t make myself think about it. Sorry. It’s a fun idea.

I didn’t answer this one because I kept trying to extend my response past, “I think he just really likes baseball.”

I think he just really likes baseball.

My feelings on that as a quality answer are derogatory.

Mm. The ones where I actually tried to get something started hurts.

Ultimately, this ask was a larger demand than I could make my brain work through at the time. I made sure to write down the tl;dr version of Sasha’s, because I found that desperately important, and not something that people talk about much, but the additional weight of trying to think of themes for multiple characters made it hard to progress.

Me, looking at the prompts: Hi my brain left me.

Sorry, Anon. Too many gears were moving for me to get a proper feel for what I wanted to do with this one, so I ended up ditching it. ...I was planning to finish it, though. Eventually. See, I even put the quote in the Draft version as a reminder of what I was doing, so I could get back to it right away.

Yeeeeah, this is just one more to the “I will give this wonderful thing all the time it deserves!” pile.

The pile is stored in the Failure Corner.

Perfectionism is the enemy of progress.

You guys really like crossovers.

I love that for you.

-spends two years ignoring you-

I mean, I just didn’t know what to do with the rainbows.

They sure are there.

They sure are pretty.

I sure couldn’t come up with a comment to add.

...I don’t know why I didn’t answer this. Possibly because I think it’s fine? I’m not too attached to it, and spent the whole manga period wanting to watch an anime version instead, then we got an anime version.

I’d guess that my general “meh��� feelings interfered with responding here.

No idea why I didn’t answer this.

Yes, and good for you.

I support all thoughts on giving the Reiss kiddos personalities.

I think I didn’t get back to you on this because I wasn’t sure how to encourage you to keep going so I just sat awkwardly on my hands and felt weird about not saying anything.

...Thanks for sharing!

I love how it’s the little things that date these.

Unfortunately, we’re now at the point where 90% of the reason I didn’t answer was because I was too sick to muster up anything approaching enthusiasm.

Or because I’d just finished answering a bunch of chapter-specific things and was burnt out.

This felt pretty self-explanatory to me, so I felt like that gave me permission to ignore it.

Also, it mentions Marley.

I might be slightly petty.

Really though, I think what stopped me from giving a proper answer is that the question of what an author is trying to say throws me off a little. I work better thinking of it in terms of what the story is saying, with the author just happening to be the hands that wrote it all down.

I don’t know. This was probably another case of feeling like I should give this more of my time than I was able.

I couldn’t decide.

That’s it.

That’s the reason.

Everyone needs to give Mikasa a hug.

My blog title for a hug.

-the crossover snake hisses and consumes another-

I am so sorry.

This is fun.

I probably should have just gone with posting and saying so, because I am genuinely charmed by this. I tend to feel like I have to add something to asks to justify the post. That policy maybe didn’t need to be a thing.

I love my anons.

I want that to be clear.

Really, I do.

I especially love their willingness to embrace my crackpot logic.

Still.

Sometimes, the only response one can have to Schrodinger’s Ymir is to ignore its existence, find a pillow, and scream into it for the rest of time.

This replaces typing.

-looks at Armin-

-looks at Eren-

Yeah, don’t know why I didn’t answer this one, either. I blame tiredness? Sorry about that.

I feel like I didn’t answer this one because it felt like work.

This is where I start considering that making this post was a mistake.

I could have just agreed with you and gone about my day.

Probably should have.

Did not.

Another one for that, “had nothing to add so I just left it in a corner, abandoned and unloved,” pile.

There is an apology section at the end, but we’re not there yet.

This one I don’t think I noticed.

Alternatively, I did notice, and wasn’t sure “Yes,” would pass as a good enough answer.

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

Okay, time to really just get into it: I think for the remainder of my inbox, I didn’t answer because physically, I was just too damn exhausted, and I kept waiting for a point in time where I’d feel better. Sorry to put a limit on the personalization, but in the end, that’s all there was to it, and rephrasing it a dozen times will make me crazy.

And here we are.

Well.

Good grief, do you guys even have any clue how much I like all of you?

Obviously there’s a lot of guilt in the above, because I can’t tell you how much I wanted, each time, to give a great answer that would make you thrilled you messaged me. I am so sorry to all of these I didn’t get to. There were days when the alerts in my inbox were the best thing to happen to me, and I never wanted to let any of them go without acknowledgment.

I try to say thank you as often as I can in my responses, because that’s as close as I can get to reminding you all, constantly, that I am grateful for your participation. The only times I don’t say it is when I worry that it’ll look like it’s being done out of habit, not genuine gratitude. Or when I think you might take it the wrong way if I say thanks for a basic conversation. Because you provide me content and make me interested in things I might not normally look twice at.

There are so many instances of people saying hi, and thank you, and wishing everyone well here.

I haven’t been active in the larger fandom in two years, but I have always been so happy that you guys kept dropping by my space anyway.

You are a pleasure and light in my life, no matter how much snark I might throw about.

Thank you all.

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[quixotic-writer]

The Impractical Gattosby: Chapter 1

~Oh???? My god???? This was fucking INCREDIBLE!!!! Thank you for this spectacular submission! I’m truly blown away! Please please PLEASE post this on AO3 or Wattpad because I want you properly credited with this work and I want so many others to read this!

In Murr’s younger and more vulnerable years his father gave him some advice that he’s been turning over in his mind ever since.

“James, whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told him, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

He didn’t say any more but they’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and he understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence he is inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to Murr and also made him the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that at college, Murr was unjustly accused of being a ferret, because he was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently he has feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when Murr realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon—for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. He is still a little afraid of missing something if he forgot that, as his father snobbishly suggested, and Murr would snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

And, after boasting this way of his tolerance, Murr came to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point he didn’t care what it’s founded on. When he came back from Staten Island last autumn he felt that he wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; he wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gattosby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from Murr’s reaction—Joe Gattosby who represented everything for which Murr has an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “comedic genius"—it was an extraordinary gift for confidence, a type of shamelessness such as Murr has never found in any other person and which it is not likely he should ever find again. No—Gattosby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gattosby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out his interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

Murr’s family were prominent, well-to-do people in the northeast for three generations. The Murrays are something of a clan and they have a tradition that they’ve descended from Italian and Irish nobility, but the actual founder of his line was his grandfather’s brother who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War and started the wholesale business that Murr’s father carries on today.

He never saw this great-uncle but he’s supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in Father’s office, sporting a shiny bald head. Murr graduated from Georgetown University in 1915, and after he decided to go to New York and learn the motion picture industry. Everybody he knew was in the motion picture industry so he supposed it could support one more single man. All his aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep-school for him and finally said, “Why—ye-es” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance him for a year, using the funds that would have otherwise gone towards purchasing for him an automobile, and after various delays he went to New York, permanently, he thought, in the spring of twenty-two.

The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and he had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that they take an apartment together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea. He found the place, a weather beaten cardboard apartment at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Los Angeles and he went out to the country alone. Murr had a dog, Penny, at least he had her for a few days until she ran away, and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman who made his bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than Murr, stopped him on the road.

“How do you get to Staten Island?” he asked helplessly.

Murr told him. And as he walked on he was lonely no longer. Murr was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on him the freedom of the neighborhood.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees—just as things grow in fast movies—he had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. Murr bought a dozen volumes on motion pictures and cameras and they stood on his shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton and Rudolph Valentino knew. And he had the high intention of reading many other books besides. He was rather literary in college—not only was he an English major, but one year Murr wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the “Georgetown News"—and now he was going to bring back all such things into his life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

It was a matter of chance that he rented an apartment in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous boroughs, identical in contour and separated only by water, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Upper New York Bay.

Murr lived at Staten Island, the—well, the less fashionable of the two boroughs, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. His apartment was at the very tip of the island, only fifty yards from the Bay, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on his right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gattosby’s mansion. Or rather, as he didn’t know Mr. Joe Gattosby it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. His own apartment was an eye-sore, but it was a small eye-sore, and it had been overlooked, so he had a view of the water, a partial view of his neighbor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.

Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable Brooklyn glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening he took the Staten Island Ferry there to have dinner with the  Vulcano-Quinns. Sal Vulcano was his former brother-in-law from when Murr had married Sal’s sister for three days, and he’d known Brian “Q” Quinn in his Monsignor Farrell High School days.

Sal’s husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever worked for the Fire Department of New York—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family was enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d come to Brooklyn in a fashion that rather took one’s breath away: for instance he’d bought three cats named Benjamin, Brooklyn, and Chessie. It was hard to realize that a man in Murr’s own generation was wealthy enough to do that.

Why they came to New York, Murr doesn’t know. They had spent a year in France, for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Sal over the telephone, but Murr didn’t believe it—he had no sight into Sal’s heart but he felt that Q would drift on forever seeking a little wistfully for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable fire to fight.

And so it happened that on a warm windy evening he rode the Staten Island Ferry over to Brooklyn to see two old friends whom he scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than Murr had expected, a cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Brian Quinn was at the front porch.

He had changed since his Monsignor Farrell High years. Now he was a sturdy, dark-haired man of thirty with a rather magnificent beard and a supercilious manner. Two shining, arrogant hazel eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his newsboy cap and silk American-flag print scarf could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.

His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were guys at high school who had hated his guts.

“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” They were in the same Improv Club, and while they were never intimate Murr always had the impression that Q approved of him and wanted him to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.

They talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.

Turning me around by one arm he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep pungent roses and a snub-nosed motor boat that bumped the tide off shore.

“It belonged to Mrs. Calabash, my neighbor.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”

They walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding cake of the ceiling—and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two men were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white and their clothes were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. Murr must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Q shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room and the curtains and the rugs and the two men ballooned slowly to the floor.

The younger of the two was a stranger to me. He was extended full length at his end of the divan, completely motionless and with his chin raised a little as if he were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If he saw me out of the corner of his eyes he gave no hint of it—indeed, Murr was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed him by coming in.

The other man, Sal, made an attempt to rise—he leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then he laughed, a loud boisterous laugh that soon had him falling to the floor, and he laughed too and came forward into the room.

“Oh my gawd, I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.”

He got up to  only laugh and almost fell to the floor once again, as if he said something very witty, and held his hand for a moment, looking up into Murr’s face, promising that there was no one in the world he so much wanted to see. That was a way he had. Sal hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing man was Jost. (Murr has heard it said that Sal’s murmur was only to make people lean toward him; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)

At any rate Casey Jost’s lips fluttered, he nodded at Murr almost imperceptibly and then quickly tipped his head back again—the object he was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given him something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to Murr’s lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from him.

Murr looked back at his former brother-in-law who began to ask him questions in his low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. His face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright green eyes and a bright passionate mouth—but there was an excitement in his voice that men who had cared for him found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that he had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.

[someillplanetreigns]

@just-the-hiddles tagged me in this writers’ ask - thank you!

Name: @violetvapours called me Illizabeth Planetope Reign and I think I should make that a thing tbh.

Fandoms(s): MCU, often with Norse mythology thrown in there. (And one sneaky just Norse mythology oneshot!) I dabble in other places too, more as a reader but who knows what the future will hold. Had a spate of reading historical RPF and historical Shakespeare AUs again not too long ago, and been slowly building a long list of The Magnus Archives fics I want to read. I also feel like I often read books and go “oh wow it would be cool if...” then find without the community side I’m not very motivated to write my ideas; maybe one day I’ll give in to that and do it anyway.

Where you post: Ao3. I post here with a link to Ao3 when I post there, but I don’t format my writing specifically for tumblr.

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Incantation-Fetter’s Arms

Favourite story you’ve written so far: The Play’s the Thing

Fic you were nervous to post: All fics always, isn’t everyone?

How you choose your titles: Oh no idea, and every time it’s a new struggle. I don’t think any of my fics have stunning titles. The Play’s the Thing - or to use its full name, The Play’s the Thing (Wherein I’ll Catch the Conscience of the King) - is a well-known Hamlet quote with its less well following line. That just fitted. The sequel is currently being written under the working title Nothing Beside Remains, which is from Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley. It references the destruction of the kingdom of Ozymandias, King of Kings - again, appropriate! Incantation-Fetter’s Arms comes from a truncated kenning for Loki as the ‘burden of Incantation-Fetter’s [Sigyn’s] arms’. Other gods were referred to as the burdens of their wives arms too, but I found that one particularly interesting. My other titles are just words I threw together. 

Do you outline: Yes. Everything I’ve ever finished has been outlined. Everything I’ve ever not finished (a much much much longer list) has not been. So I always aim to do it.

Complete: Currently everything on my Ao3 is a complete fic if you want to take a look! 

In-progress: Nothing Beside Remains, the second part of The Play’s the Thing, is a wip I am writing, but not posting yet -  I no longer post chapters before having a whole draft because of problems I’ve created for myself in the past haha.

Coming soon/not yet started: As above, Nothing Beside Remains will be coming soon, and strictly speaking that’s my only WIP right now. That said... I am somewhat tempted to try and do some oneshots... I may have had some vague thoughts about doing my own “What if...?” series with canon divergences I would love to see played out...

Do you accept prompts: Not in a formal way, but whenever I see a blog that gets asks framed as “here’s an idea I’ve been thinking about...”, “what if...” etc, and then the blogger can choose to write and post something in response or just interact with it as an ask, a part of me is always like “I want what they have.” ime that’s only big blogs though. Still, you are so welcome to send me your thoughts and I may write them if inspiration sparks! But I can’t see myself posting a prompt list anytime soon (unless I see a really cool one, then maybe...)

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Nothing Beside Remains. I just really like this series!

Thank you for the tag! I think lots of people have already been tagged so won’t repeat. @violetvapours if you want? And @nyebevans Idk if it’s all very hush-hush anticipation before posting, but if you want to here is a thing! As always no pressure :)

[ayellowbirds]

33 Usher Street chapter one script, First Draft

I’m planning to go back and do a major revision on this, but i wanted to share what i have for the time being! This was part of last years NaNoWriMo project, about Jewish (and otherwise) vampire hunters in an alternate history 1920s, including a transgender golem and an intersex dhampir as the joint protagonists.

What follows is an unfinished draft of a comic script intended for my own reference as the artist. Some art directions are absent, intended to be filled in later; or reflected a lack of a particular concern about how the panel looked.

Questions and comments are welcome! I’d love to get some other folks’ ideas about what needs changing. Please excuse any formatting issues! This didn’t copy-paste so well.

Italics outside of quotation marks indicate art directions and page layout.

[Square brackets] indicate sound effects (SFX), signage, captions, or other non-bubbled matters of lettering.

“Quotation marks” indicate speech bubbles.

1. Three panel page.

1.1. Full-width view of a bus (reference 1920s buses) puttering along beneath and above autumn leaves.

[CAPTION: September 24, 1923]

1.2. A thick black full-width border. Repeated on the following pages at full-width size, same height, to be indicated as BORDER

[BORDER: SFX: Bus engine chugging]

1.3. Interior of bus. Driver, assorted passengers, and towards the rear, SOLOMON “SOL” SZOMBATHY. He is a slight young man in a jacket and oversized “Oxford bags”,. His hair is thick, black, and curly (3B type); his features Ashkenazic but on the darker side. He holds a plain-looking wooden cane. Behind him, occupying the last row of seats, is a long, coffin-like box or chest, sealed with rope or cord.

2. Six panels.

2.1. A close-up of Solomon. He seems lost in thought, leaning against the bus window.

2.2. [BORDER: SFX: THUMP!]

2.3. The bus bumps, Sol is jolted upwards.

2.4. Sol settles, squeans emanating. 

2.5 Sol looks out the window.

2.6 Exterior, the wooded roadside. A sign reads: [WELCOME TO Jackson, Mass. EST. 1842]. Perhaps the bus is visible here, chugging past the sign.

3. Six panels.

3.1. The bus stop. Perhaps a sign indicating that’s what it is. The bus has stopped.

Driver: “JaaaAAACKson station!”

3.2. A tail extends from the speech bubble from the previous panel, to overlay the BORDER. Driver: “Last stop!”

3.3. Passengers exiting the bus. Sol is lifting the box.

3.4. Same as 3.3, with more movement ahead of Sol. He is pulling the box, struggling. 

3.5. Same as 3.3, the bus now empty of other passengers. The driver is standing, impatiently watching Sol. Sol is half-way down the aisle, perspiring with effort.

3.6. Same as 3.3, Sol finally exiting the bus, with his box.

Driver: “That everything?”

4. Two panels

4.1. Sol, wiping sweat with a kerchief.

SOL: “Yes, thank you. And—”

4.2. As in 3.2, a tail extends from the previous bubble into the BORDER, which fades from black to white.

SOL, stylized as the chapter title : “Can You Tell Me The Way To Usher Street?”

[Credits:

A 33 Usher Street story

Written and Illustrated by K.P.S. Roman Religious Consultation by Quell Nessuno]

5. Six panels. Wide, double, double, border.

5.1. Sol, walking along a Jackson street, dragging the box behind him on wheels and hoisting his cane over his shoulder. The city is sparsely populated in spite of its size; apartment buildings and businesses line the streets, but there are few people visible. The buildings have the sagging, unsettled look of those built on swampland.

5.2. More of Sol, rounding a corner and excusing himself past some locals, including ADRIAEN TEN BOOM, a stogie between his lips.

Sol: “Pardon me!”

5.3. Sol, looking up at a street sign for the corner of [MARSH ST] and [WASHINGTON ST]. A car putters past. WILHEMINA FAWKES is in the driver’s seat.

5.4. Sol continues past some kids playing marbles. He’s starting to visibly sweat. An older black man [ALEISTER JONES] watches the game from a stoop, his gloved hand resting on his cheek.

5.5. Sol, stopping at another corner. A conspicuously incognito figure [CONSTANCE WRIGHT] watches from behind a newspaper. A sledgehammer leans against her side.

Sol: “Ah!”

5.6. BORDER, Sol’s speech bubble extends from 5.5.

Sol: “Here we are!”

6. 

6.1. The sign for the corner of [WASHINGTON ST] and [USHER ST]

6.2. Sol moves a bit more speedily down the street, indicated by hites. PLUTON, a large black cat with only one eye watches.

6.3. Sol, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, exhaling a panting puff. Pluton is visible following behind at a distance.

Sol: “Let’s see…”

6.4. Sol looks up at the numbers of the buildings. He passes the unremarkable numbers twenty-one and twenty-three. Pluton cocks his head.

6.5. BORDER. Sol’s speech bubble tails from 6.3. 

Sol: “Number... Thirty-Three?”

6.6. Sol stops before a row of thorny bushes. The speech bubble trails from 6.5. Pluton is posed as if looking around the tail of the speech bubble, to see Sol.

Sol: “Oh!”

7. 

7.1. Sol, standing before 33 Usher Street. The building is assembled from a mix of newer construction and old ruins with the masonry at diagonals to each other, as if someone happened upon the leaning remains of a graystone castle and chose to join it together in red brick. The 33 is quite large and visible on the exterior of the building, and a less-legible sign hangs beneath it.

7.2: BORDER, a caption (Sol): “There it is.”

8.

8.1. A close-up of the sign beneath the 33 from 7.1. It now more clearly reads: [USHER STREET HOUSE OF ANTIQUITIES AND CURIOS]

8.2. BORDER. A speech bubble trails down to 8.3.

Sol: “That wasn’t... so hard to find... after all.”

8.3. Sol walks up the path, while Pluton, indicated by tracing lines, bounds up into the building out of Sol’s view and onto a windowsill. He has set down the box.

9.

9.1. Pluton, pausing at an open window, looks out imperiously at the approaching Sol. 

9.2. Interior of the room from 9.1. A view from the back of JAMES “JIM” CULLOCK III. The room is full of talismans, wards, and assorted scraps of paper framed upon the walls.

Jim: “Yes, that would be him.”

9.3. A hand [that of MARIE BOSLEY] sets a Victrola to play.

Marie: “I’ll leave the interview to you, then.”

9.4. A partial view. Pluton bounds down into the room. Enough of Marie is visible that she can be seen cranking the Victrola. Jim appears to be fussing at something invisible on his sleeve.

Jim: “If you’re certain.”

9.5. [BORDER: SFX: the opening lyrics of Marion Harris’s “After You’re Gone”]

9.6. Jim’s feet descending the stairs.

10.

10.1. Deliberate parallel to 9.6. Sol coming up to the front door. The lyrics of the music continue from 9.5, and there on until otherwise indicated.

10.2. Sol’s hand raised, to the door, there is a simple bronze door knocker.

 10.3. [BORDER: SFX: KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.]

10.4. Sol waits at the door.

10.5. Same framing as 10.4; Sol looks back at the box.

10.6. Sol looks back at the door, anxious, patting his head with his kerchief. 

11.

11.1. The door swings open. Inside stands Jim. A tall, older white man with the slender yet solid look of a longtime dancer or a runner, clad in two parts of a mismatched three-piece suit: striped trousers under a diamond-patterned vest, with bow tie. His hair is close-cropped, styled fashionably, and streaked with gray.

Jim: “Good afternoon...”

11.2. BORDER. A trailing tail from Jim’s line in 11.1.

Jim: “...young man.”

11.3. Sol holds out a crumpled envelope.

Sol: “The Rev. Dr. Hammer sent me, sir?”

11.4. Jim takes the letter in his left hand.

11.5. Jim looks at the letter.

11.6. Jim tosses the letter over his shoulder, smiling.

Jim: “James Cullock III, son.”

12.

12.1. Jim, extending his right hand to shake.

Jim: “But, call me Jim.”

12.2. Sol, returning the handshake.

Sol: “Sir, my name’s Solomon.” 

12.3. BORDER. 

Jim: “Mr. Grundy, then?”

12.4. Sol looks tired of this joke already.

Sol: “No, sir. I was born on a Saturday.”

12.5. Jim laughs

Jim: “You’re the right one, alright!”

12.6. Jim motions Solomon in.

Jim: “Come in, Mr. Szombathy, and have a seat.”

13. Three panels, the top full-width but narrow, as is the border: the main action is 13.2.

13.1. The foyer of 33 Usher St. The room is set up for greeting visitors and entertaining, and Sol is already seated opposite Jim. 

13.2. Full view of Solomon, seated and without his coat. He is wearing a tight-fitting sweater, giving him the silhouette of a paintbrush when paired with his trousers.

NOTE: Use the antiquated “Rumania” spelling whenever it appears on the page.

[CAPTION: Solomon “Sol” Szombathy Age: 20

Born: 10/31/1903

Hometown: Pittsburgh, Vandalia

Background: Hungarian/Rumanian Jewish, First Generation American

Likes: Science Fiction & Fantasy Magazines, spicy foods, cooking. 

Dislikes: Running, swimming, high noon.]

13.3. BORDER. 

Jim: “So, Solomon Szombathy. I understand from my old friend Matteus—he wired me here before you arrived—that you have had quite a remarkable encounter, of late.”

14. Reversal of 13.

14.1. BORDER.

Sol: “Just so, sir. I am told it is within your area of expertise?”

14.2. Full view of James, seated and with his legs crossed.

[CAPTION: James “Jim” Cullock III

Age: 56

Born: 2/18/1867

Hometown: Roan Mountain, Nickajack.

Background: Scottish-American

Hobbies: Gardening, Morning Constitutionals

Profession: Antiques, Estate Management, ???]

Jim: “By which you mean…”

14.3. Pluton enters the room.

Pluton: “Miaou.”

15.

15.1. Sol watches as Pluton approaches.

Sol: “Vampires, sir. A vampire. Just the one.”

15.2. Pluton inspects Sol, who is now focused on Jim.

Jim: “You have no need to worry about being doubted on that subject here, Mr. Szombathy.”

15.3. BORDER.

Sol: “Ah, yes. Dr. Hammer told me that you are in the business of…?”

15.4.

Jim: “Formally, the Usher Street House of Antiques and Curios is in the business of the management of estates belonging to those who passed without clearly defined wills, or without leaving behind heirs to manage their estates.”

15.5. Pluton approaches Jim.

Jim: “Informally, better say genuinely, we are in the business of public health. To deal with the threat of vampires to the general public.”

16.

16.1. Pluton settles down at Jim’s feet.

Jim: “Tell me, what are your opinions on the morality and ethics of vampirism?”

16.2

Sol: “Well, in my father’s collection, there was a commentary on the Sefer Hasidim, which says that a person who must consume the blood of another human being… should be pitied, for it is in her nature and her needs to survive, and if she should make recompense to her victim, should be treated with compassion as a member of the community.”

16.3 BORDER

Sol: “But that’s regarding a living vampire, what some call an estrie, and the exceptions made for one who must violate kashrus for the sake of pikuach nefesh. And Eleazar Rokeach said that one should stop up the mouth of a deceased estrie, to prevent her from feasting on the living, after death.”

16.4

Sol: “From a strictly Halakhic standing, it is permissible for the living to eat as they must to remain living, but the deceased are deceased, and are forbidden to do so.”

16.5 

Sol: “So, I think that, ultimately, it depends on the circumstances, case by case. It requires careful but decisive investigation.”

16.6. Jim, close-up, a scrutinizing gaze.

Jim: “But Mr. Szombathy, you are not solely the books you read.”

17.

17.1. BORDER.

Jim: “What was your experience with a vampire? How do you feel about the morals and ethics?”

17.2.

Sol: “I… my family lived in Pittsburgh, you see. Since I was born.”

17.3. 

Sol: “My mother had been pregnant, just newly so, when they came here, from the old country.”

Jim: “Which…?”

Sol: “Transyvlania. In Rumania.”

17.4. Sol is in silhouette in the foreground. We see KÁLMAN SZOMBATHY, a Hungarian Jewish man nearing middle age. 

Sol: “My father—he was always very learned. In many ways. And he had acquaintances, friends, contacts? Who knew….”

17.5. Sol, younger, looking out the window at his father, who is outside with a candle in hand at night.

Sol: “Strange things. Secrets. Mysticism.”

17.6. Sol, a bit older, looking at his father examining a book. A diagram of the sefirot is visible—ish-style, or yosher?

Sol: “I saw so much of it, growing up. I didn’t think it was strange.”

18.

18.1. Sol, almost his present age, sitting by the window with a book, while his father talks with some baalei shem.

Sol: “Just… another thing we didn’t talk about with go—gentiles.”

Jim: “Like this… golem?”

18.2. The golem, standing with toddler Sol. It looks more lumpy and vaguely defined than when we see it later.

Sol: “Yes. It was around before I was born. Like a caretaker or guardian. A nanny.”

18.3. Sol sitting, reading a book aloud. His narration is not bubbled, but bleeds into the scenery.

Sol: “I would talk to it. Just… talk to it. My parents, my father only told it what to do.”

18.4. Sol looking up at the golem.

Sol: “And you may think it silly, sir, but sometimes, I thought that it spoke back.”

18.5. The golem looking down at Sol.

Jim: “Golems are said to be mute, are they not?”

18.6.

Sol: “So I am told.”

19.

19.1. A bedridden person.

Sol: “This summer, people started taking ill. A doctor came to visit, every one. But people just got worse. Wasting away.”

19.2. A doctor at the door, tipping his hat. He looks flushed, and has a distant expression.

Sol: “My parents had boarders. Renting rooms. And the doctor, the physician, came to call on one.”

19.3. Kálman stopping the golem, which seems determined to approach the “doctor” and has an upset expression.

Sol: “The golem kept… my parents said it was menacing him.”

19.4. Sol’s mother, DOINA URS-SZOMBATHY, shooing the golem from a door. Doina is about the same age as Kálman, with darker features.

Sol: “And it happened, the same day, that the Reverend Doctor Hammer was visiting. Resting, from traveling. He knew my father, somehow. The golem had been bothering him, too. Trying to push him around.”

Jim: “Hm.”

19.5. Sol, looking down.

Sol: “Which I guess is why he didn’t notice the physician was actually undead.”

19.6. Sol’s parents, reclining on a couch, resting their heads against one another. The shadow of the vampire looms over them.

Sol: “Which was why my parents thought it safe to rest, as well.”

20.

20.1.

Sol: “My parents—they were in the other room, you see. They had left the golem with me. Because it kept bothering everyone. Getting in the way.”

20.2.

Sol: “I guess the vampire got greedy, though. It came into my room. I was reading.”

20.3. The vampire reaching for Sol, who looks shocked. It is an upiór type, with a sharp, barbed tongue instead of fangs.

Sol: “I only realized what it was, up close. Too late for my parents.”

20.4. The golem’s clay fist swings at the vampire, sending it sprawling.

Sol: “But not too late for me.”

20.5. The vampire is sent flying across the room, slamming into the wall.

20.6. The Rev. Dr. MATTEUS HAMMER, a wild-eyed trans man of mixed Scandanavian and indigenous heritage, with a shock of white hair, in his pajamas and brandishing a sword and pistol.

Sol: “The fight woke up Dr. Hammer.”

21.

21.1. Splash of Hammer shooting the vampire in the heart. 

[CAPTION: THE REVEREND DOCTOR MATTEUS J. HAMMER

Age: Like, So Old

Born: A Man, In Spite Of What The Nurse Said Hometown: Tarrytown, NY

Background: Finnish/Swedish-American and Lenape, He’s Pretty Sure Fears: God And Nawt Else, Also Centipedes

Enjoys: Fresh-Baked Bread]

21.2. The golem stands between Hammer and Sol, protecting Sol.

22.

22.1.  Hammer looking over Sol.

Sol: “The Reverend Doctor, he checked me over. Asked me a lot of questions about what happened. About me.”

22.2. 

Sol: “Checked everyone else, too. Everyone who... survived.”

22.3. 

Sol: “And he told me… all things considered, I should come here.”

22.4. Jim, pensive.

Jim: “To report on your experiences? I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through, your loss, but….”

22.5. Sol, surprised.

Sol: “No, sir. He sent me here for me to seek employment.”

22.6. BORDER.

Sol: “As stated in the letter you dropped upon the ground.”

23.

23.1. Jim, flushed, looks at the envelope.

23.2. Jim, bends over to pick up the letter.

23.3. He dusts it off.

23.4. He opens the envelope.

23.5. He begins to read.

23.6. BORDER Hammer: “Dear Jim. Give the lad a job. Do something about the golem. Remember: that matter in Chattanooga. Or I will tell Marie. Sinc. The Rev. Dr. Matteus J. Hammer.”

24.

24.1.

Jim: “Well, then I suppose that this is an employment interview, although....”

24.2. Jim sighs through his nose.

24.3. BORDER.

Jim: “Chattanooga, eh?”

24.4. Jim: “In that case, we had best find the best place for you.”

24.5.

Jim: “Let me explain a bit more about what we do here.”

24.6.

Jim: “Through a number of agents, contacts, and former customers, we are apprised of events that may require our attention. Our more ordinary business provides both cover and funding for this.”

25.

25.1. Jim, facing Sol, sidelong view.

Jim: “We employ both in-office experts, and traveling agents who visit locations where vampirism is believed to be at play.”

25.2. Sol, headlong view.

Jim: “What qualifies you to act in the field, rather than from behind a desk?”

25.3. BORDER. Sol’s speech trails to .4.

Sol: “Well, sir, as a dhampir,”

25.4. Jim, headlong view. Two ghosts are visible, framing him: RODERICK and MADELINE USHER. They are the spirits of two young WASPs nearly identical in appearance, with large eyes, wild fine hair, and aquiline noses, clad in shrouds.

Sol: “I can see the dead.”

26.1. Roderick and Madeline notice Sol is looking at them.

Jim: “...”

26.2. Roderick waves coyly at Sol. Madeline seems disinterested.

Jim: “You would be far from the first to claim that you are able to see the unseen. Do you have any proof?”

26.3. 

Sol: “Outside of the word of Dr. Hammer…?”

Jim: “If you please.”

26.4. Jim, an eyebrow cocked.

Sol: “I don’t suppose you know that you have twin siblings hovering in the air around your study?”

26.5. Jim looks up at Roderick.

26.6. Jim looks up at Madeline.

27.1. 

Jim: “You will, I trust, forgive my skepticism. Even in this trade, there is always room for incredulity.”

27.2. Jim lets out a puff of a sigh.

27.3.

Jim: “I myself have found that what one sees is not always what is.”

27.4. A view of Sol, from Jim’s perspective. Sol and the room are crawling with transparent insects of imaginative and unnatural anatomy. Take care to note that they are only visible on surfaces of a solid, continuous color.

27.5. BORDER.

Sol: “Do you find that very often?”

27.6. Jim, looking weary, dusts one ‘bug’ off the table.

Jim: “For many a year.”

28.

28.1.

Jim: “But, here, you said that you were a dhampir! How comes that to happen?”

28.2. Sol, obviously embarrassed.

Sol: “In the usual manner, sir.”

28.3. BORDER.

Jim: “Which is to say, one of your parents—your birth parents—was a vampire?”

28.4.

Sol: “My mother’s first husband. After his death. My father, I suppose, my stepfather, was his brother.”

28.5.

Jim: “My condolences.”

28.6. Sol, holding the cane tightly.

Sol: “I don’t think of it much. It wasn't his fault.”

29.

29.1. Jim stands up abruptly.

Jim: “Quite! Not his fault. Not his fault. The majority of vampires—people want someone to blame, you know?”

29.2. Jim begins to walk out the door, motioning ‘come here’ to Sol. Pluton perks up.

Jim: “But a vampire—follow after, won’t you?—is not really a someone. It’s a something.”

29.3. Jim walks outside towards the box, Sol and Pluton following.

Jim: “Are you familiar with the association of vampirism with cases of tubercular consumption in Connecticut?”

29.4. Jim has reached the box and is inspecting it, leaning over it.

Sol: “That there was some similarity, but that the word ‘vampire’ was not used?”

29.5. Jim circles the box. 

Jim: “Well, the papers used it—here, how do we open this—though the locals did not.”

29.6. BORDER.

Sol: “Open it, sir?”

30.

30.1. Jim, gesturing at the box. 

Jim: “This is the golem in here, is it not?”

30.2. Sol, hesitant. In the background, RANDOLPH CARTER appears in the doorway, startled. Reference HP Lovecraft, naturally.

Sol: “Yes, but—” 30.3. Carter rushes up, waving the letter from Hammer in his hand.

Randolph: “Mister Cullock! James! I can see what you mean to do and—this is folly of unfathomably cyclopean proportions!”

30.4. BORDER.

Randolph: “The letter from Matteus Hammer is entirely explicit in its brevity, this container is as an inscrutable Hebraic box of Pandora!”

30.5. Jim, gesturing bemusedly to Randolph.

Jim: “Ah, Mr. Szombathy. Allow me to introduce our Rare Books Expert, Mr. Randolph Carter.”

31.

31.1. Carter looks down at Sol.

[CAPTION: RANDOLPH CARTER Age: Younger than he looks, really.

Born: 8/20/1874

Hometown: Some Nameless New England Town

Expertise: Ancient Tomes, Forgotten Lore, Adjectives

Hangups: Xenophobia, Icthyophobia, Anglophilia]

31.2. Carter nods at Sol in greeting, ignoring Sol’s offered handshake.

Randolph: “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Szombathy.”

31.3. Carter whips his head around (speed lines!) back to Jim.

Randolph: “I really must protest, James!”

31.4. BORDER Randolph: “The golem acted without instruction, in a violent and destructive manner according to its inhuman whims!”

31.5. BORDER, again. The text is less contained within the bubble.

Randolph: “It is a lifeless husk animated by eldritch secrets, which has demonstrated a readiness to cause harm!”

31.6. BORDER, once more. The text is almost overtaking the space, no longer contained in a bubble.

Randolph: “It is every bit the arcane monstrosity that we are employed to eliminate, an idiot half-form!”

32. The thickest BORDER panel so far, over a three panel of one full width over two half-widths.

32.1. BORDER. A single, solid, centered speech bubble, trailing down.

Jim: “Enough.”

32.2. Jim, over the box, holding a pair of gardening shears to the ropes binding it.

32.3. The severed ropes falling, in view of Sol.

Jim: “Mr. Szombathy; I should like to employ you. But after hearing your story, I suspect that you are but one part of what the stores would call a ‘package deal’.”

32.4. Jim opening the box, viewed from as if within.

Jim: “Would you mind if I were to awaken it?”

33.

33.1. Sol, looking resolute, with Carter looking horrified behind.

33.2. Repeat of 33.1, but with Sol nodding, Carter faint with terror.

Sol: “Please do, Mr. Cullock.”

33.3. A full view from above of the golem in the box. It is squared and inanimate, eyes shut and form even more vague than in the flashback. Pluton bounds into panel.

33.4. BORDER, more gray than black, now.

Jim: “Please, call me Jim.”

34.

34.1. Jim reaches into his pocket and pulls out a strip of paper. Pluton appears in the corner.

Jim: “Matteus had sent this ahead, as well.”

34.2. He holds it up for Sol and Carter to see. An א is visible, but the rest is concealed by the curl of the paper.

Jim: “I take it this is the ‘sacred words under the tongue’ type of golem, rather than the ‘אמת’ variety?”

34.3. Sol, confused.

Sol: “Yes, s—Jim.”

34.4. Jim, looking contemplative and holding the strip absently.

Jim: “I wonder. Was the golem silent for fear of spitting out the paper?”

Sol: “Eh?” 34.5. BORDER. Still gray.

Jim: “I would keep mum, myself, if my continued animation depended upon something held under my tongue.”

34.6. Jim’s hand pressing a tiny hole into the clay. Pluton is looking over the edge of the box.

Jim: “Just like planting a seed, hm?”

35.

35.1. Jim’s hand swipes over the hole, sealing it by pushing clay back over.

Jim: “There, now—”

35.2. BORDER, but with the image of ‘eyes opening’, slightly, in white.

35.3. BORDER as 35.2, but wider. Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter coming into view.

35.4. BORDER as 35.3, wider. Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter in full view.

35.5. Same panel width as 35.2-4, but a full, unshaded panel of Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter.

36.

36.1. The golem sits up, form still vague, androgynous. Carter shocks, Jim smiles, Sol looks nervous, Pluton is deadpan and does not move from looking over the edge of the box.

Jim: “How is that?”

36.2. The golem looks at Jim. Everyone’s expressions are the same as 36.1.

Jim: “Can you try speaking, now?”

36.3. The golem, closeup, mouth open slightly.

36.4. Same as 36.3.

Golem: “C’n try… speaking.”

36.5. Now Sol is shocked, too.

36.6. Same as 36.5.

Sol: “He can talk?”

37.

37.1. The golem, frowning.

Golem: “...can.”

37.2. Sol and Carter, even more shocked. 

Randolph: “M-mimicry?”

37.3. The golem gives a headshake.

Golem: “Nuh-uh.”

37.4. The golem’s gaze shifts in the direction of Sol.

Golem: “Why… c-call me….”

37.5. The golem, looking down.

Golem: “He?”

37.6. Sol looks as though he has realized; unlit lightbulb? Carter is fizzling smoke from his noggin.

38.

38.1. Repeat of 37.6. More smoke from Carter, lit lightbulb on Sol.

Sol: “You’re a girl!”

38.2. The golem nods.

38.3.

Sol: “I’m so sorry, I never realized—you looked like a boy, so?”

38.4. The golem, puzzled.

Golem: “...looked?”

38.5. The golem starts to push out of the box.

Sol: “Of course, I should know, appearances and all, but—”

39. 

39.1. The golem starts to rise from the box, form changed towards a more definite shape.

39.2. Continuing from 39.1, more and more defined, more and more upright. 

39.3. Fully upright, fully defined as feminine. Dotty as per concept art.

39.4. The golem, in full view, looking down at herself while Jim, Sol, Pluton, and Carter are gathered around.

Golem: “Be...tter?”

40. Four quarter-width panels, one full, two half-width.

40.1. Jim, smiling.

Jim: “Quite so.”

40.2. Sol, beaming.

Sol: “Amazing!”

40.3. Pluton, feline.

Pluton: “Miau.”

40.4. Carter, stunned.

Randolph: “Transmogrification!?”

40.5. The golem, smiling.

40.6. Jim, Sol, Pluton, Carter.

Jim: “And how should we call you, Miss…”

40.7. The golem, thinking.

Golem: “D…”

41.

41.1. The golem, DOROTHEEA “DOTTY” SZOMBATHY, smiling, her speech bubble forming the CAPTION:

[Dorotheea Szombathy But you c’n call me Dotty!

Age: I dunno, like eight’r nine months older’n Sol?

Birthdate: I guess February of 1903? It was Tu B’shvat, I think.

I love helpin’ Sol, and all kinds of toys and games! My clay came from Horezu, but I was born in Bran! That’s in Transylvania, you know? The one in Rumania, not Usonia]

41.2. A view from behind Dotty as she continues talking. Jim and Sol look dumbfounded, Carter is letting out smoke from both ears and his eyes have rolled all the way back in his head.

Dotty: “I was asleep on the boat to Usonia, but someday I wanna try riding it while I’m awake….”

Jim: “Oh, she certainly can talk.”

Sol: “יא”

42. END page of “Can You Tell Me The Way To Usher St?”

42.1. CAPTION: 

[סוף.]

42.2. A bubble of Dotty.

Dotty: “Say, c’n I wear clothes now?”

[the-voltage-diaries]

I’ll Stay by Your Side, Every Night - Soryu Oh

For our very own, @joaxotome​; one of the sweetest, kindest, and most amazing humans I have had the honour to meet. I don’t think I write Soryu that well, because the last Soryu piece I wrote was over a year ago lmao, but I tried. I hope you like this, Joanne. Thank you for being such an amazing ball of energy who can cheer anyone up in a mere few seconds. Love you. <3

Also, since you said you love yourself some angst to love, I tried to make it come true. Cheers to me writing better Soryu fics, hahaha.

This one’s for the discord exchange, and I’d just like to take a moment to thank our very own @voltage-vixen​ for hosting this beautiful event <3!!

TW: Angst (with fluff... or so I hope.) This work is based around the ideas of abuse; mental, emotional, physical. If you are in any way uncomfortable with that, do not read this. 

“Are you going to cry now?” He smirks, his eyes glinting in a way that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

All I see is black as my eyelids force shut, not wanting to look at his face for a second longer, too scared to think about what will happen to me if I do.

“Hahaha,” he laughs and I sense him bending low, his face coming closer to mine. “Look at you, scared and shivering like the mess you are.” I shift uncomfortably, feeling his breath creating warm spots on my neck as his voice lowers, almost down to a whisper, “You asked for it, baby.”

“Ugh!” I jolt, my groan muffled against the cloth stuffing my mouth when I feel his fingers stroke the sides of my waist, teasing, testing the waters.

And then, before I know it, his palm comes to rest on my chin and in one swift motion his fingers pull out the dirty piece of fabric gagging me. My eyes burn with unshed tears at the pain in my mouth, caused by the sudden pull, and I take a deep breath, refusing to admit defeat in front of this bastard.

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll survive. I know I will. At least I hope I will.

“Baby,” he purrs, almost as if coaxing me, “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, won’t you?”

My breathing shallows and goosebumps show up on my skin at the nickname, the way he calls out to me in that god forsaken voice.

His rugged fingertips graze the corners of my jaw, almost as if luring me back into him, back into that web of pain, lies and suffering. “Look at me,” he whispers, and I shiver at the tilt in his tone, reminding me of the days when things between us started to go awry. “Don’t worry Joanne, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Just as his fingers tighten around my jaw, I hear the sound of a mobile ringing. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, and my sigh of relief goes unnoticed. I hear his footsteps as they back off and walk in the direction of the device which refuses to stop ringing.

My guess is that he picks up the incoming call, because no sooner than his feet stop do I hear him let out a muted, “What is it?” Again, I hear his footsteps move away, and then a door opens, and then it shuts. And then? Complete silence.

My uneven breaths echo in the silence so eerie you would hear it if a snail moved.

As I try to calm myself down, my mind chooses the worst distraction it possibly could have; my past with this man.

When did we become like this? Why did we become like this? What went wrong?

We had started off on such good terms. Both of us were madly in love. He was the perfect boyfriend; he would take me out on dates, message me constantly, shower me with his love, call me nicknames, spend time with me... or so I thought.

About a year into our relationship I realised how badly had I fucked up. I realised how blind I was to the changes in his behaviour; the way I didn’t notice how him taking me out on dates turned into him forcing me out when I didn’t want to go, just to show me off as his trophy girlfriend, how his constant messaging turn into something obsessive, how him showering me with his love turned into showering me with his abuses, how calling me nicknames turned into calling me a whore or a slut whenever I so much as even looked at someone else, the gender didn’t matter, how him spending time with me turned into him gluing himself to my side, never once leaving me.

Always on the look-out for when I’d commit even the slightest of errors. Because then he would unleash all his names, curses, abuses at me; making me feel like I didn’t deserve to be loved.

Well, maybe I didn’t.

Over time, those curses and abuses turned physical as he turned more violent, slapping me or beating me up for even the most minor of mistakes. Those verbal slurs turned emotional, making me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive. Hah, what a cheeky little failure.

“Heh,” I scoff at myself, laughing at how naive I was to not realise when our love turned into something that would make most people sick to their core.

What makes me feel the most miserable about our past is that I allowed myself to be used and abused. Even when he didn’t reply to my texts, ignored me for days sometimes, and clearly had stopped even so much as glancing my way... I still hadn’t given up.

Not until that one fateful day when I saw him. In my bed. With not just one, but two bloody women.

Silly girl, one of his sex friends had said, smirking in all her naked glory, can’t you see the truth right in front of you? This is his little kingdom, and you’re not the queen anymore.

“Argh,” I groan, my thoughts coming back to the present when I feel my bound wrists numb with pain at a tear in the thin skin that covers them. Rolling my shoulders to forget about the pain for the time being, I pull at the rope tying my wrists behind my back, in futile hopes that it would come loose.

“Ah, I always loved the feisty side you hid underneath all that cute drama.”

I jump and my body freezes in its spot, my eyes widening at the proximity of his voice.

In my peripheral vision I see his face, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder with him standing right behind me.

When did he come back?

“While you were too busy reminiscing about the beautiful bubble you had created for yourself with me,” he chuckles, as if reading my mind. Looking at the way my eyes refuse to un-widen, he continues, “You were always easy to read. Now weren’t you, Joanne?”

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, my head bent, refusing to stay up any longer.

“Because, Joanne,” he starts, a lewd smirk lining his face when I let out a choked sob on the use of my name, “I want you to have your epiphany.”

“My what?” I ask, looking up at him, wondering if I heard him right.

“Your epiphany,” he repeats. I feel the throbbing in my wrists relax as the ropes slowly come undone, surprising me. He slowly walks around me, coming to a stop just in front of me. My heart only pounds faster when I catch the glint of the knife in his hands. “I want you to realise what a useless little bitch you are without me in your life. Nobody loves you, kitten. Nobody did, nobody would.”

“Stop...” I whisper, bowing my head in defeat, trying to mute out all his words in an attempt to stop them from having their effect on me.

“You, Joanne, are a pretty little good for nothing.” He smiles, his palm resting on my shoulders. “Your friends run away from you, your peers refuse to talk to you. Ever wondered why?”

No, Joanne. Don’t listen. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Every thing will be fine. Just breathe.

“Because, oh darling,” he murmurs, dragging the knife’s tip up my neck, slowly, “you are so very broken and no one cares to notice.”

“I trusted you,” I say, finding the courage to meet his eyes from god-knows-where. I meet his challenging gaze head on, trying to sound as angry and frustrated as I feel, “I trusted you so much.”

“Well then you can’t exactly blame me, can you? It was your mistake.”

“What the fuck do you want?!” I yell, immediately regretting it when I see how his smile turns from teasing to predatory.

“What do I want?” He mutters, bringing his face so close to mine I can feel his disgusting breath on my lips. He drags the tip of the knife lower... and lower... and lower, until it reaches my abdomen.

I can’t think.

“You want to know what I want, Joanne?”

I can’t breathe.

"I want so many things," he whispers. "I want your mind. Your strength. I want to be worth your time." 

His eyes hold me still, as if commanding me to stay where I am.

His fingers graze the hem of my top and he says, "I want this up." He tugs on the waist of my pants and says, "I want this down." He touches the tips of his fingers to the sides of my body and mutters, "I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine and I want to know it's racing because of me, because you want me. 

And then I hear the sound of something sharp piercing skin, and the sound of blood oozing out. My eyes slowly travel down to look at my waist where the knife rests, buried deep in my body.

Because you never, " he breathes and pulls me up to him, and looking up, in the depths of his eyes I see the formation of something that makes me lose my mind, "never want me to stop. I want every second. I want every inch of you. I want all of it." He smirks, pushing the knife deeper into me as his fingers come to rest on my chest, where I feel my heart pound, "I want your soul."

And I drop dead, all over the floor.

“Joanne?” I hear a voice call out my name. It’s almost distant. Almost.

All I see is pitch black as I feel my heart pound out of control and my body grow hot.

“Joanne, love,” The voice says, insistent, and it’s as if my body automatically relaxes a little at the familiarity of it. “Can you hear me? Wake up, baby.”

I feel the urge to reach out and grab at the voice, and so I do. I stretch out a hand into the darkness that surrounds me, in the hopes of grasping on to something, not knowing what it is.

“JOANNE, WAKE UP!” I sense someone’s fingers curl around mine, grabbing my outstretched hand, and pulling me towards a strong, warm chest, immediately jolting me awake.

“Wha-What?” I whisper, not quite catching up with what is going on. All I see in front of me is a navy blue hoodie, covering a broad, strong frame, and I look up to meet a familiar pair of eyes, as calming and deep as the ocean.

“Hi,” he says, giving me a relieved smile. But for some reason, while my body calms down, my mind delves right back into the state of panic as I feel my nightmare overlapping with my reality.

“Get away from me!” I yell, pushing him away, and jump away from the bed, running to the opposite end of the room.

“Joanne?” He calls out, his eyes widening in surprise, maybe not expecting me to run away. Oh no, maybe I angered him. Maybe he will beat me up now. Oh no.

“Don’t take my name!” I say, covering my ears. I can still hear his voice ringing in my head, letting my name out from his sickening lips.

He gets out from the bed, slowly, steadily, and looks at me with a warm, comforting gaze, “It’s me, Joanne. It’s Soryu.”

“S-Soryu?” I murmur, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. I try to calm my ragged breathing down as I gradually start registering what is going on. But the moment he takes a step towards me, I immediately jump back.

“Love,” he coaxes, “at least let me clean you up. You’re all sweaty.”

Wait. I am?

It’s when he says that do I notice the state I am in; my face wet with tears, my body sticky with sweat and my fingers trembling with fear.

‘... Joanne, I’m not going to hurt you.’

“Come here,” Soryu says, opening his arms for me.

“Why?”

“Just come here,” he mumbles, taking a step forward.

“No!” I shout, stopping him in his tracks as I flinch away. “You’re going to hit me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Joanne.”

“I’ve heard those words before.”

He looks at me, his hair still a mess, and in that moment in the pale moonlight he looks more handsome and more human than I have ever seen him. “I guess I’m asking you to trust me,” he says, opening his arms wide, once again, for me to fall into. 

I stand there, shaking in fear for a moment, but when I see his deep, grey orbs look at me with so much longing and care, I finally start to take slow, deliberate steps towards him.

Within a few steps, I fall into his strong embrace, letting it consume me and make me forget about whatever I dreamed of.

When his fingers comfortingly start stroking my back with extreme patience and give me that sense of security I was so desperately searching for is when the dam breaks and all the tears I had been holding in rush out.

He stands there, silent as a graveyard, patting my back in a rhythmic pattern, not once judging.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask not being able to think of an answer myself.

“Doing what?” He murmurs, his voice muffled by my hair as he rests his mouth against my head, kissing the spot before staying there.

“Treating me like a person,” I whisper.

“I’m doing this because,” he starts, pulling away to look in my eyes. His fingers gently grab my chin, guiding my face towards his, to make sure our eyes are locked, “I love you, Joanne.”

My lips form a smile when I realise how much he means every one of his words. “I love you too, Soryu.”

He smiles, his fingertips stroking my cheek, patient. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

“What are you thinking?” I ask, my fingers reaching up to play with the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m thinking of how I want-” he stops when he sees my face go pale.

‘I want your soul.’

“Never mind what I want,” he whispers, effectively stopping me from going too far into my nightmares again. “What do you want?”

“You.”

I suck a breath, surprising myself at how I don’t even waste a second to say it to him.

Always you.

“Love,” he brings his face closer to mine, his voice low, “You already have all of me.”

I gasp at the amount of emotion in his voice, the ineffable level of care those eyes hold for me, and he bends lower, his lips almost touching mine.

“May I?” he asks...

... when he doesn’t need to. I smile, gently standing on my tip-toes and pressing our lips together.

[x0401x]

Music Natalie Interview with Akane Kazuki

Interview and cast comment featuring director Akane Kazuki, who aims for a contemporary Japan version of “Stand by Me”.

The original TV anime “Hoshiai no Sora” started airing on TBS and other channels as of October 10th, 2019. Akane Kazuki, who is in charge of this work’s script and direction, is a veteran director with a history of over 30 years in the business, who has been making series such as “Tenkuu no Escaflowne”, “Noein: Mou Hitori no Kimi e”, “Code Geass: Boukoku no Akito” and others. With a boys’ soft tennis club on the verge of disbanding as its stage, “Hoshiai no Sora”, which he is delivering as his “new challenge”, is a multi-protagonist narrative that portrays the problems shouldered by second-year middle school boys. There were probably many spectators who were surprised by the last scene of the first episode.

Why did director Akane, who produced several sci-fi and robot series, challenge himself with this theme now? In this special feature, we had director Akane discuss in detail about the process until “Hoshiai no Sora” was created, and of course, about the sense of crisis that he feels from the anime industry. In addition, we are including and delivering a Q&A with cast members Hanae Natsuki, Hatanaka Tasuku, Matsuoka Yoshitsugu, Satou Keisuke, Amasaki Kouhei and Yamaya Yoshitaka, revealing memories of their middle school days and things to pay attention to in the series.

Raw || Index

Director Akane’s Interview

“I want to write a proper human drama with brilliant animators.”

——Director Akane, in a pamphlet interview from the TBS Anime Festa 2018 (see: Pamphlet Interview with Director Akane Kazuki), where the title “Hoshiai no Sora” premiered, you talked about your belief that “animation had to move forward onto its new weapons and possibilities”, right? First of all, could you tell us the process until the point where you bound this feeling to the series named “Hoshiai no Sora”?

Blunty put, anime nowadays has fallen down to a “in what way can we make money with this” kind of thinking. Of course, it is commercial anime, thus it cannot be done if it does not give returns correspondent to the costs, but the time I entered the anime business was the period when Miyazaki Hayao-san and Tomino Yoshiyuki-san’s works were starting to be released, so I looked up to the innovation of their animations as video media. Like, “So there’s a part of this industry that can make proper dramas like these and manage to do new things animation-wise”. Yet, looking at the past ten years, there has been nothing but repeated copies of things that sold well, with a “that work was accepted, so let’s get on the bandwagon and make something” kind of feeling to them. I think that a feeling such as, “The animes made by Miyazaki-san and the like are different, so isn’t it okay if we keep doing our thing on this side?” has been going on all along.

——This side of it might have come to light precisely because the number of late-night anime fans increased and the market for them established itself to some extent.

A few years ago, when the so-called “moé anime” was trending, I was told, “Once you start doing it, there’s no helping if it doesn’t sell. It’ll be more accepted if you use cute girls and include erotic scenes”, but I thought, “That’s not true”, because I believe that we are becoming unable to sell anime Blu-rays and DVDs as a result of making a fool out of our spectators like this. When we do that, the younger directors cannot challenge themselves at all, even if they have the sense to. Therefore, it has been over 30 years since I have entered this business, so I wondered if I couldn’t create some sort of new path once again, even if it were an animal trail.

——You were aware of a sense of crisis regarding the industry and of nurturing the next generation.

Companies must equip themselves with new technology just for making new things, so at first, I talked to the CEO of Eight Bit, Kasai Tsutomu-san, about firstly levelling our footing with a hop-step-jump feeling and then gradually accelerating it in “Hoshiai no Sora”. But out of a bad habit of mine, I end up suddenly stepping onto the pedal with all my strength when I start doing something (laughs). It is modern, so I believe it is still easier for the staff to make it than near-future sci-fi.

——I also want to ask about that point, director Akane, but when the topic is you, we do get the image of sci-fi and robots after all, and from the words “new possibilities of animation”, I reminisced to sci-fi with flashy footage, action and things in that direction. But “Hoshiai no Sora” is the complete opposite of that, and in a way, while having a puny soft tennis club from a present-time middle school as its stage, it is the story of a very small world.

About that, to tell the truth, the first animation work I looked up to was Takahata Isao-san’s “Sekai Meisaku Gekijou” series. I adore “Anne of Green Gables” and such, like, “You can stage human mentality so sensibly with animation, as if you’re approaching the viewer”, and I always thought that I wanted to try doing it. In the beginning, when I entered Sunrise, it went to a point where I asked in an interview, “Isn’t it fine to also aim for something masterpiece-like, an animation that only compels human drama?”. The sci-fi personnel kept telling me to “do what would be accepted”, so I included that because I had no choice.

——Eh, was that so (laughs)?

But now sci-fi has grown obsolete, so I thought that, this time, I would be able to make something pieced together from nothing but human drama; something that could project a sense of the current times with this, which is what I had always wanted to do ever since I entered this business. After all, far more than our generation did, children nowadays carry with themselves several kinds of issues. Besides, a number of old animes were less skillful in comparison to now when it comes to depiction methods. The power of animation and portrayal of “Sekai Meisaku Gekijou” series is absurdly high, so it managed to portray extremely sensible changes of heart in people with art, but it is a work that could be made because genius animators like Miyazaki-san, Kotabe Youichi-san and Kondou Yoshifumi-san were gathered for it. But in the past few decades, the number of brilliant animators increased a lot, and compared to when I entered the industry, where the quantity of series became so big that we cannot deal with them all, the quality of the animators has grown far better. Wouldn’t I be able to direct the depiction of a proper human drama if I were with children like them? If so, I thought, I wanted to try creating a scenario that would be in accordance to this.

“I wanted to make a contemporary Japan version of ‘Stand By Me’.”

——By the way, other than “Anne of  Green Gables”, was there any other work that you had as an image of something along the lines of “I want to make a series like this” during the conception stage of this one?

Something I thought of wanting to do was the movie “Stand By Me”. It makes you reflect upon the mood in America during the period when the Vietnam War had just ended, and the suffering of children who cannot let go of their parents is properly written in it, so the question “Then how about making a ‘Stand By Me’ with present-time Japan as the setting?” was always within me.

——So the idea of making a multi-protagonist story about boys comes from there. It sure makes sense.

There is the fact that animation is a media essentially watched by young people, so even as I said that I was going to make a human drama, I did not want an old man as protagonist (laughs). When I remember about myself, I think that the time around the second year or so of middle school is a period where the entrance to adulthood starts becoming visible, but no matter what, you cannot escape from the restraints of your parents, so it becomes a turning point in the formation of people’s growth. Moreover, I decided to add sports to it, in which you can easily insert a balance for entertainment, but I have a twisted personality (laughs), so I thought just normal sports would not be fun, thus I tried choosing a somewhat minor sport such as soft tennis.

——When you went on-stage during the TBS Anime Festa, you said, “The number of competitors in soft tennis is really huge in middle school, but it becomes smaller as people grow up, and they end up forgetting what they felt during those times. This overlapped with my image of the so-called ‘adolescence’”, and it left a big impression.

There is also the fact that I used to play it, but I believed that, if it were soft tennis, the wordly thoughts of adults would not barge into it. Whenever parents have their children do something, no matter what, the greed of grown-ups is often involved. I despise things such as doing something while aiming for victory and throwing everything away (laughs). I thought it would be better to write about a more innocent kind of sport where one would say, “I do it because I like it”.

——Director Akane, looking at your previous works and interviews, I feel like you always have your eyes on the children, so to say, and that you want to make animes that remain in children’s hearts, but are you conscious of this?

No, just because the protagonists are children does not mean that I am making animes aimed at children. I believe I cannot make a kids’ anime (laughs). Isn’t the “children gaze” something that everyone is supposed to have experienced before? That’s why, when I make the protagonist a child, I am aiming it at “general audiences”.

——I see.

It would be great if I cause adults to remember their childhoods and think things such as, “I used to be more serious, huh?” or, “Aren’t I hurting my child?” with “Hoshiai no Sora”. Even though they were supposedly hurt by adults in their own childhoods, when people become adults, they pretend that they forgot about it for some reason. Of course, I would also be happy if middle school kids watched it, and I want to tell them, “You’re not at fault for anything; you don’t have to blame yourselves”. Adults are human beings too, so they are not right about everything, and it might not be your fault that they are scolding you. This has both a “it’s okay to be aware of that” and a “it might be okay to make others understand that” side to it.

“The last scene of episode one was an unexpected finale.”

——From here on, I am thinking of asking questions also related to the contents of the first episode, but the background music by Jizue bears a sense of presence. I had a very “present-like” impression of it, and having that post-rock-style instrumental as anime soundtrack felt fresh.

When I told our music producer, “I don’t want an OST and theme songs that are wholly anime-like”, he made arrangements with Jizue-san. Jizue-san’s compositions are unique and interesting and gave us good influence even during the staging. I decide everything by myself as far as music pieces for the middle of the story are concerned, so I believe the music and the drama are in sync.

——One more thing I felt to be fresh was the character design. Itsuka-san, who made the concept drafts, is an illustrator that has over a hundred thousand followers on Twitter, draws covers for several novels aimed at teenagers and is extremely popular amongst young people, right? You told us that you were introduced to her by someone from your staff.

Yes. I believed that, story-wise, more realistic character designs would be better at first, but on the other hand, I thought that, in the end, unless you also have people at around their late teens watch an anime, its life force as an animation drains out, so I concluded I had to make the art into something that children at this age would want to see. And then the one who Producer Kasai from Eight Bit introduced to me was Itsuka-san. Her drawings are soft, so I had wondered if they would be able to handle the hard parts of the story, but when it was animated by the photography director, Takahashi (Yuuichi)-kun, and the characters started moving, it was praised with a, “If it’s this, it can work”.

——Just as you say, even though the characters are deformed, I thought this was an unexpected finishing touch that allows their facial expressions and the scenarios to feel realistic.

When it was selected to be animated, I repeated countless manuscripts. In the beginning, I tried making it more real, a bit removed from Itsuka-san’s art, but when I did that, it somehow ended up looking like an “average anime” to me. Itsuka-san had gone through the trouble of drawing it, so I went over trial and error in order to have it leave its mark. When we actually finished the first episode, I thought it synchronized quite well with the story.

——And when people watched episode one, what really left an impression was the last scene, which reveals that Maki is abused by his father. I had somewhat heard about the contents of it, but when I actually watched it, the shock was bigger than I thought it would be. The mood felt unpleasant from the moment that his father came, so to speak, and at Maki’s aspect as he was hit after rebelling once, then crouched down and became unable to move, I was at a loss for words, like, “Uwah…”.

That scene was entirely written by Takahashi-kun, but it was a finale that made me think, “My, that’s terrible…” more than I had imagined, so I was also surprised. In our own childhood, there was a fair number of parents who hit their children, and I believe it is not rare at all for children to have this sort of home circumstance, but if we had portrayed it objectively, people would go, “Something so cruel doesn’t exist”. I think that it went well performance-wise because it came in the form of facial expressions and that it would be great if people felt lots of things watching that scene.

“That means you watch too much anime.”

——Speaking of which, there are already several club members just in the soft tennis one, so how did you create the image of each?

They partly hint novels that I have read up to this point and movies I like, and I also insert all sorts of elements from people I have met until now. Such as, “They had this kind of reaction back then, didn’t they?” or, “That kind of guy was there”. There are also episodes that include real stories. This is why I think that it would be good if the viewers do things such as having the person next to them in mind or imagining the person they are with in the character’s shoes as they watch the series.

——I was thinking that Touma was going to be the so-called protagonist-like story teller, but his lines are much fewer than I had expected. Maki is also flighty, and the tennis club members around them are careless too… The fact that you cannot see the true thoughts of anyone and that there is no storyteller was also fresh.

If you feel that to be fresh, it certainly means you watch too much anime.

——Ahaha, I cannot deny it (laughs).

If it is in movies, isn’t that completely normal? Explaining too much through lines and monologues is a bad habit of anime. I think people come to like characters even more when they ask themselves, “What’s this guy thinking?” and then figure it out. This is a particularly strong trait of original animes, so I hope people ask themselves about what kind of characters they are. All the hints are supposedly depicted there.

——As you say, I think the first one was exactly the type of episode that draws out a “What kind of people are these kids?”.

“The sort of performance that real actors do can also be portrayed through animation.”

——Regarding the animation, it is mostly hand-drawn and it seems even the 3D is devised to look hand-drawn. Director Akane, I wonder if this is not because you are against CG, but was the obsession with hand-drawing meant to match with the story in this case?

In a previous work, I tried seeing what would happen if we used CG to the utmost limit. The operator was also an awfully brilliant person, so I believe he did all he could, but in the end, I thought that it could not win against action hand-drawn by human beings. The more we maximized with CG, the more I perceived once again the greatness of action drawn with human hands all too well, so this time, I believe I want to depict these boys with the sensibility and flexibility of hand drawings. It is not that I am against CG, but in the end, there is something wonderful in the art drawn by actual animators. Of course, there is the pre-determined condition that they have to be skilled (laughs).

——So animators who can make this possible are gathered in “Hoshiai no Sora”.

Right. This applies to Takahashi-kun’s art in particular, for he makes drawings so delicate that the faces can change just by moving one line. For example, he portrays very deftly those facial expressions of Maki’s where you cannot tell what he is thinking for a moment, as well as Touma’s air of inflexibility, or the fact that he sometimes suddenly has on an anxious-looking gaze. I want to leave behind this kind of fineness by hand-drawn animation. I want young animators to realize that the detailed performances that actors do can also be portrayed with animation and it would be great if the viewers could understand this too. You said earlier that Maki’s suffering was conveyed very well in the last scene of episode one, and I think this is exactly because it is not live action but animation.

——This is part of the power of art, and there is also the facet that one can relate emotionally to it precisely because it is entirely fiction. After all, we sometimes end up feeling that it is “just acting” in live action, but the anime characters are not putting up an act.

Aah, that is right. There is also the fact that I made the protagonists be children, and in Japan, gathering just seven to eight good child actors for making a live action series with lots of children is really difficult. That’s why it would be fake no matter what, but it looks true in animation. I believe this is something that cannot be done with live action, and that we can achieve because it is an anime. The voice actors, too, can play the boys regardless of being already past their twenties.

——Now that you mentioned it, this time, it seems the casting was decided only through the tapes, without anyone looking at their names or profiles at all.

Yes. In the tape audition, we picked just by their numbers without looking at the names. Except, even if we select them without look at their names, we ultimately choose the good ones, and all the popular ones are good. I only asked for Itsuki’s actor, Matsuoka (Yoshitsugu)-kun, to be selected before-hand this time, because when we were together in my previous work, I thought that “he’s so good”.

——There are many young actors, but do you feel any difference between the voice actors of before and now?

No, nothing of the sort. Whenever I was the director, since long ago, I would often favor the rookies. From the very start, I was fond of voice actors who performed in a natural way, so I believe that we have chosen mostly people like that this time as well.

——During the advanced screening, too, everyone in the cast was hinting at each of the worries that the characters bear, so as to call the attention not only to Touma and Maki, of course, but also to the other club members.

This is a series that started out from all sorts of challenges, so I believe the story will not progress the way people may picture it, and the story might not come down as imagined from the title “Hoshiai no Sora”. Developments that you cannot expect may be something unpleasant to see at times, but I think this will turn into pleasure if people bear with it and that there will be no disappointment from watching it. I also look forward to them coming up every time. The staff is doing their best, so I hope people will enjoy how the story will advance.

“Hoshiai no Sora” Cast Comment

Hanae Natsuki (voice of Katsuragi Maki) / Hatanaka Tasuku (voice of Shinjou Touma) / Matsuoka Yoshitsugu (voice of Ameno Itsuki) / Satou Keisuke (voice of Takenouchi Shingo) / Amasaki Kouhei (voice of Ishigami Taiyou) / Yamaya Yoshitaka (voice of Asuka Yuuta)

Q. How is director Akane Kazuki during the recording?

Hanae: The director talks to us quite a lot even during breaks and whatnot. Maybe he is quite the worrywart, since he asks things such as, “Was it fun?” and, “You guys okay?”. The fact that he is very hyped towards “Hoshiai no Sora” really conveys, so we also feel like we should do our best.

Q. This is a work that depicts the troubles of middle school boys, thus I believe it made you all remember how you felt during that period of your lives, so if there is any episode that stayed in your memory, please do tell.

Hanae: When it comes to the episodes that we can talk about, I remembered a time when I had a class where we had to go out in groups, and I had brought gum with me and my teacher found out when I was eating it, so they gave me a battered earful.

Hatanaka: I wanted to be popular… I wanted that, so I played basket. But I did not become popular at all. It was truly hard, so I would like people not to laugh at me.

Matsuoka: There was once an extracurricular lesson at school where we had to pick grapes and turn them into wine. But the field was super large, so no matter how much we picked and picked, and we had to repeatedly put the grapes in a big container in the middle of it when our buckets were filled up, and I got sick and tired of it, so I kicked my bucket flying and the health teacher saw it and it was a shock to me when they said, “Matsuoka-kun, I didn’t think you were the kind of child who did things like this”.

Satou: I rode to school by bicycle when I was in junior high, so I had to wear a helmet, but I hated it. A student who had the status of school leader did not wear it and he told me something like, “You take it off too!”. But I was conflicted… because the teachers would get mad at me if I did so (laughs).

Amasaki: I remember one time when swimming class had ended and the girl I liked whispered in my ear, “Amasaki-kun, you had belly rolls, huh?”, and I was extremely hurt (laughs).

Yamaya: There was a girl I used to like in my class, and she liked anime, so I started watching anime in order to have common topics with her. It is thanks to this girl that I am now a voice actor.

Q. Please leave messages for the people who have watched the first episode and who will watch it from this point on.

Yamaya: From the impression that the art gives off, I believe many people will watch it thinking that it has warm and cozy world-building, or that it is a multi-protagonist drama about refreshing youth where schools and club activities appear. I think they will be dealt a shock, but please do look forward to the developments ahead.

Amasaki: I think that, surely, anime is something that you watch with all sorts of feelings. There are people who watch with lighthearted feelings while eating snacks, and people who watch levelheadedly with fixed sitting postures. The people who want to eat snacks should finish eating fast! Please watch the latter half of it steadily. There are many scenes that are a waste to miss out on, so I hope people will watch with all their mights from the first episode onward.

Satou: The director and everyone from the staff made this while obsessing a lot with minute details, so I hope people will see even these delicate parts of it.

Matsuoka: Please watch it with your family while having dinner. I believe this series is related to everyone’s futures.

Hatanaka: The way each character is written is extremely sensible and the things they bear are heavy, so I think there will definitely be people who will be pained to watch it, but I would be happy if they could watch, with these feelings also included, how these children will face it and move on. I believe there is always something to be found in the aftermath of a painful feeling.

Hanae: I think it is an anime in which the way you feel towards it changes from person to person, and there are also lots of characters, so I think that how people will relate their emotions with a given character also changes depending on each person, so I want all sorts of people to watch it. How the club members will unite through soft tennis is also depicted there, so please do pay attention to it.

[inventors-fair]

Let’s Talk Flavor: Commentary

I would say overall that most of these cards were fantastic and a great number of the story ideas were good. There will be parts where I suggest edits, and the thing about story edits is, well, it doesn’t impact game design. That’s the thing about the Fair and the thing about Magic in general: the whole thing could be replicated with number systems and program lines and it would be the exact same. It’s the fact that a creature has Flying, or that a spell is made of Lightning that makes the game exciting. This was an interesting experiment. 

Let’s talk about cards!

@ace-hobo​ — Captain’s Wrench

This is a perfectly fine card. I like the “fixed” Voltaic Key style, the moderate power level. It’s a card that someone would probably be middling in artifact decks but fine in budget builds. I’m sort of feeling an Ixalan vibe, maybe with a little steampunkishness. I get that the wrench belongs to De, but it’s a little confusing regarding why they have the wrench. If they’re the captain and they’re not in the engine room, why is the card depicting a tool that would suit them better if they never left the engine room? Maybe the story should be about how DESPITE their captain status, they spend time in the engine room. It’s an easy enough tweak.

@cas-420 — Boiling Blood

The card is pretty good. It’s very aggressive and has synergistic potential. I really don’t see where the flavor is tying into it. I am favorably inclined towards your text, in concept. I can see where you were making the pun on “execution.” The wording is clunky with the repeated syntax, and could have just used the execution line. But what does that have to do with the card? The flavor evokes dissent, protest, retaliation. The flavor of the card evokes speed, purpose, initiative. It’s not a perfect tonal match. I would save the text for a different card with a clearer purpose

@dabudder​ — Wisdom of the Tides

In terms of card wording, I believe you’d be looking for something like Mysteries of the Deep, where you have an “instead” wording — unless you’re supposed to draw an additional card after? It’s a little confusing how you have it now. Still, Flourish is a fine mechanic, executed well. This was pretty close to being a runner-up. I like the nod towards crabs. We’ve been having a crab mood lately. Overall, not bad. Might need to be four mana, but that’s me being cautious.

@deafeningsandwichpeach​ — Jyska, Artificer Overlord

The name is probably the best thing about this card, and it’s fair enough for a legendary creature. Considering that this is essentially the Nim ability from original Mirrodin and that it’s a vanilla creature otherwise, I would contest that you’re severely overestimating the power level of this card. It’s not as strong as it seems. In terms of flavor text, this is basically exposition. I won’t dissuade you from story-rich cards, but there’s too much information presented in a manner that overloads the reader. Simplify, punch, beat, punctuate. In terms of presentation, the whole block should be in quotes, and you don’t need to attribute the quote if the character’s on the card itself.

@demimonde-semigoddess​ — Thaw

Great name, great snow flavor. I can see this in the tundra wastes, something emerging from the snow, bursting out. I had to do some digging. As it turns out, “gelid” is a real English word I had no idea about! I thought from the shackles and your flavor text that it was some Coldsnap lore. In terms of the text itself, it’s not bad. It’s just that the two statements are somewhat disconnected. They work both on their own, but together, they don’t gel well. Still, bonus points to mechanical flavor for an anti-ice feel.

@dimestoretajic​ — Phytotemple

The card is pretty funky for an uncommon, pushed but not busted. I’d call it a pain in the butt but no more than Wayfaring Temple. Ah, I see, the wayfarers, an homage. But there’s a lot I don’t understand. Who lost the wayfarers? Who’s saying this quote? Why did the phytotemples start appearing in general? Did the original wayfaring temples break into them? What does Selesnya have to do with construction crews? How is that related to the phytotemple’s physiology and motivation? Most importantly, why is there a street named after a Selesnya dissident? I think you should have focused on one specific area of the card’s backstory.

@emmypupcake — Bloom Nurturer

I was really surprised that there wasn’t a card already named this. In terms of card wording, look at High Tide or Bubbling Muck; I think it would read “Until end of turn, whenever you tap a Forest for mana, add an additional G.” The quote doesn’t light my world on fire, but it fits well and reads well. Just remember to indent the attribution with shift+enter. Overall? Good enough.

@fractured-infinity​ — Shara, Skalla Vengeant

I had to do a little digging, but I like how you incorporated Vivien’s lore in here. That said, Skalla is also, well, destroyed, presumably forever. Where did the spirit come from? Is it wandering around Skalla? In that case, did Vivien go back? Why? That raises a couple questions. In terms of this card, it’s broken. In anything but the most pushed Commander formats, it’s three mana to deal seven damage to any creature you want with minimal repercussions. Any prevention makes her impossible to deal with. In limited, she would sweep unfairly.

@ghost31415926535 — Man-Eater Wurm

Firstly, I would like to apologize for the flavor bar being in the middle of the line. That’s my bad. Let’s talk about the rest of the card. In concept, it shouldn’t be too overpowered. But deathtouch and trample together create complex rules baggage that many casual players simply don’t understand. Nine times out of ten, they’ll never be printed together. Seeing that this is exactly how you submitted it, consider for next time: Only the first keyword needs to be capitalized in a string. Something like Unearth needs its own line. The flavor text is standard enough. Just remember that quote attribution also needs its own line.

@gollumni​ — Gives You Hell

I love the name here. I got that All-American Rejects song stuck in my head now. Remember that one? Anyway. Firstly, you don’t need to put “target” there; “Enchant creature” implies it. Secondly, and least importantly, don’t forget you can add watermarks in MSE! Thirdly, the flavor text. I get it, but it doesn’t flow great. If there was some wordplay to be done on fire-spitting and whatever turn of phrase you used, like, “spitting poison” in the literal sense — I don’t know, I just expect something a little more concise. It’s a great concept and has the potential to be very funny, so points there. Also, the card itself? Fantastic.

@greensunzenith​ — Decorated Demon

Liking the name. I don’t like how this card has to be a rare. It’s more of an annoyance than anything. It feels like a card that prevents decisions. It’s not aggressive, nor is it particularly interactive. Conceptually it works, but I’m not in favor. The flavor text is a bit of a head-scratcher. The real question is: who is giving demons sigils? How do they become redeemed? On what world CAN demons become redeemed? This isn’t a Bant thing, is it? I’m a little lost as to the specifics, since it doesn’t play into any tropes and doesn’t inform the world in a recognizable way.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes​ — Goblin Decorator

If the flavor text had simply been, in quotes, “Earwigs would go so well with that wallpaper!”, then this card could have been a runner-up. Also, this should definitely be an uncommon. The effect is awesome and powerful and annoying and plays into a variety of strategies. Still, the flavor text is just...too much. It’s a lot of text that tells a story that doesn’t really need to be told. We get enough from the name and that last sentence, combined with a fun ability that matches the card. That’s all we need! Gotta simplify.

@ignorantturtlegaming​ — Dust, Revenant Force

For future cards, I would highly recommend reading up on design philosophy, what Magic’s colors are about, and how cards come into being. There are a lot of questions that this card raises, and a lot of things that need to be edited.

Green doesn’t get first strike, certainly not mono-green.

Why does this card cost five green mana? What does it provide for the limited/constructed environment?

It should be “Fox Warrior.”

The first thing about the flavor text is that there is far too much of it. It’s exposition for exposition’s sake. Fine in a high fantasy short story, but not on a Magic card.

The second thing about the flavor text is that Dust appears to be a white-aligned character through their actions and themes. I don’t feel anything green about them.

@juggernaut-is-a-metalhead — Devil’s Payment

I’m going easy on card art attribution since, well, it’s Disney and they are indeed evil, but in the future, please attribute it to the show itself and/or the director/copyright holder. So, the card itself. Is it supposed to be a common? Is it an homage to Cruel Bargain and Infernal Contract? This certainly isn’t a common effect, and for one mana, well, I don’t know what to say about this card. In terms of the flavor text, why is everything separated in lines like a poem? It’s way too long to fit into a card with three lines of rules text already. I don’t really understand what it’s even trying to say. The devil asked for the MAN’S youth. What does that has to do with his own? And why is it only sometimes capitalized? I don’t really understand this at all.

@koth-of-the-hammerpants — Hidden Bombardier

Great name. For the card text, it’s powerful, arguably fine in the right format, but very strong regardless. It also needs to say “It deals 3 damage” instead of just “Deal.” Gotta get past the 90′s, erryone. So now, the flavor text... I kinda get it? I just don’t understand what makes this card a shapeshifter. I don’t understand the world in which shapeshifters exist. This card feels like a Goblin. It’s an interesting kamikaze take, if a little too flowery and on-the-nose. It doesn’t exactly inform me, and it doesn’t exactly excite me.

@mardu-lesbian​ — Ballynock Adoptee

I had to look up to make sure that there were dwarfs on Lorwyn, and by golly, you’re right, there are! In RW hybrid in Eventide, anyway. And that brings up to a major story problem. By the introduction of dwarfs, the world has already plunged into Shadowmoor, and the thoughtweft has already been replaced with the mindweft. I’m stealing this from the wiki, so berate me if I’m wrong, but I always got the sense that the kithkin were highly xenophobic regardless of where the Great Aurora was. The jarring question that remains is: how does a non-kithkin creature become part of the thoughtweft/mindweft? It goes against what we know about the Kithkin and the world in general. If there’s a good explanation, I’m all ears, but I’m not convinced at this point in time.

@mistershinyobject​ — Phenax’s Messenger

Bonus judge trivia time: I studied Latin in high school and a little in college. From what I can tell about The Callapheia from other cards bearing it’s flavor text, it is meant to evoke classical poetry from Greek and Latin epics. The lines are written four at a time, indented carefully. HERE is a link to all cards with “Callapheia” in the flavor text. The gist is, this card does NOT evoke that. There’s a lot of text, a lot of quotes, a lot of forced story that could have been way punchier if you just had stuff about a snake eating a prophet. I love the card as a limited filler. But yeah, gotta do more research into what it means to have certain aspects on your cards.

@nicolbolas96​ — Unpredictable Betrayal

You know, it’s hard to evoke Nicol Bolas well in flavor text. He’s one of Magic’s major villains, a huge face of many sets, with years behind him. And honestly? You didn’t do a half-bad job in this flavor text. Props! That said, this card is way busted. For one, double strike doesn’t affect fighting at all, so that’s...something. For two, it would need to be three sentences; you did a run-on for that last one. For three, mechanically? This is a two-mana spell that eight times out of ten will absolutely destroy two creatures you don’t control. In limited, that’s insanely powerful. In any format that plays creatures, that’s usually amazingly good. There’s a reason spells like Blood Feud and Clash of Titans cost what they cost. Getting two creatures you don’t control to fight is powerful.

@nine-effing-hells​ — Cairn to Athusis

Actually, this card was one of my favorites from the contest. I’m a heavy Gruul player when I’m not playing cruel control, and I think the gist of this card is super interesting. You made it an enchantment artifact AND a shrine, giving flavor there as well to your new world. The only thing I would have changed is erasing that first sentence from your flavor text entirely. The second is so powerful that it stands on its own. It’s poetic without being overwrought, specific to the world and building off of known tropes. Also, it tells us that “orcs are RG in this world” which is a great mechanical touch. Just needed that little bit of trimming.

@real-aspen-hours​ — Deflect Consequences

Now this is an interesting card!... What practical use does it have? I’m curious what this has on something like Harmless Offering. I don’t believe that cast triggers will be affected. Maybe it would specifically go against things like “counter target spell you don’t control” or something, but if control changes... I’m uncertain of this card’s applications past the gimmick point. That said, it would be fun to cast a Leveler and have it enter the battlefield under an opponent’s control. I’m not in love with the flavor text. It’s fine. Doesn’t light my world on fire. A touch wordy. But it’s fine. Fits the name and the ability well, so that’s nice.

@reaperfromtheabyss​ — Inconquerable Alseid

Besides the fact that “Hope” should be lowercase and separated by a colon, the flavor text is really cool! I don’t like this card much. It’s honestly fine, and it’s an interesting commander card that could lead to some cool consequences, but there’s a reason Undaunted has reminder text. It doesn’t look good floating there by itself. There are some abilities that just need reminder text all the time, and Undaunted is on so few cards that it significantly needs this. I think I was a little too harsh on this card on my first go-around, but I haven’t warmed up to it yet. I think the great flavor could have been used on a simpler, more protective card.

@scavenger98​ — Kadalla the Scornful

I’m 99% sure it should go “First strike, deathtouch, haste.” Order of keywords is weird sometimes. So are creature types. I don’t really understand the world on which an Elf can be Mardu colors. It’s a stretch of the imagination to say the least. The card itself is...fine? I’d honestly make her an uncommon in today’s world. Yeah, she’s powerful, but she’s a 2/1 for three with all different mana symbols. Regarding the flavor, it’s well-worded, but it’s lengthy and doesn’t actually tell us anything about the character or the world. It doesn’t inform the card, and that’s its major misstep. Again, though, good writing.

@shandylamb​ — Multani’s Offspring

A fine card, a funny flavor. Just so you know, though, “Saproling” is pretty much only relegated to the token, and this card would probably see print as a plant or fungus. And additionally, as nice as the pun is... What’s this card even trying to say in the story? Multani’s only known child is Muldrotha, and that’s deep lore as-is. As funny as this card might be, it really doesn’t mesh with a Magic feel.

@starch255​ — Unscrupulous Horpske 

There are only two things I’m concerned about. Firstly: what about this creature makes it “unscrupulous?” What scruples does it have normally in its species? Secondly, this card is trying to make potato salad canon in the multiverse, and I don’t know if such a travesty would be allowed to happen. Potato salad is an affront to taste, no offense to the horpske.

Literally everything else about this card is a 10/10. I would also encourage you to work on a set symbol. Everyone should!

@teaxch​ — Hidden Seers

Interesting. So what timeline is this? Is this supposed to be, like, a return to Tarkir? Cool concept, I think, although I’m not entirely sold. After hearing the shaman’s whispers, why is Surrak’s first instinct to assume that without dragons a human would lead the clan? Wouldn’t the thought of a world without dragons evoke other thoughts and fears first? That’s my main hand-iffy-motion reason. This is also a supremely petty nitpick, probably the pettiest thing I’ve ever said about a card, but if this is the Dragon timeline then wouldn’t the watermark be the Atarka one instead of the Temur one?

@tmstage​ — Apostasy

Everything about this card is good...individually. Great name, but what does that have to do with the ability? What is it trying to depict? What does shuffling your library have to do with religious dogma? And the flavor text feels overbearing. Nykita as a character is someone I’d like to know more about, but this card doesn’t tell me much about her. It’s mostly that the mechanics and the flavor don’t mesh in the least, and, well, it’s not a good mechanic. Shuffling is time-consuming, game-prolonging, and has no discernible benefit to the game outside of incredibly niche cards that mostly don’t affect you as the player. And the more I read the flavor text, the less it makes sense. “Allow the world to deform your flawed notions?” It sounds awesome, but what does it mean?

~

Thank you all for your submissions. New contest tomorrow.