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thecruellestmonth · 15 days

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Juni Ba is holding a Reddit "Ask Me Anything" session on May 7 at 4 PM CEST (10 AM EST).

Some of his answers in his previous interviews about The Boy Wonder, a reimagining of Damian's story—

This is a standalone graphic novel (Black Label), meant to be accessible to readers with no prior comic knowledge. It is meant for ages 13+.

Damian is Ba's favorite Robin, and he finds him very relatable.

On Damian comic influences, Ba says Son of Batman and Super Sons were two of his favorite books. *CORRECTION: In the AMA, Ba makes it clear that he's referring to Robin: Son of Batman, not the Damian: Son of Batman series or the Son of Batman movie. Which makes a lot of sense for someone writing a fairy tale about Damian, but I was confused.

Other than Damian, Talia and Jason are the characters that Ba has been most excited to work with.

Ba did the art for the "Happy Birthday Damian" story in Truth & Justice; while the art was a test run for some design ideas he's using in The Boy Wonder, the actual story isn't necessarily indicative of his own writing style or his version of the characters.

Ba is a big fan of Darwyn Cooke. Justice League: The New Frontier thematically inspired him here, possibly more than particular Batman comics.

Ba is aware of the racism discussion regarding the al Ghuls, and he intends to humanize them.

Ba started writing in 2020 or 2021, and the story is being released now after a period of waiting.

"This is very much I guess a Juni Ba book that happens to feature Batman characters."

To start us off, what can you tell us about the story of your new series, The Boy Wonder?

I usually introduce it to people by saying it's the story of a child with a lot of hang ups and preconceived ideas, both about himself and his family members. Over the course of this coming of age fairy tale he starts to learn about them, and himself, and grow into a better person. And it really leans into the fairy tale aspect to push the allegory and the magic in this story!

Why does Damian appeal to you so much as both an artist and a writer?

I find him both tragic and adorable. He and I share some things and I think that's why my brain started coming up with a story about him all by itself. Writing wise there's a fertile ground to tell a really heartfelt story. And art wise, he's such a fun character to draw. It's like a cute little gremlin who's always frowning and judging everyone, which can often backfire on him in funny ways.

How much does Damian's past with Talia and Ra's al Ghul influence Damian and this story?

A lot! They raised him after all, so that upbringing influences a lot of what he does. But that includes Batman too, even if his influence is more recent. There's a looming presence of all the parental figures and the pressure of what they'd have wanted you to do, how they would have judged you.

Since we were talking about Damian’s mother, there have been questions surrounding characterization and stuff, especially for characters like the Al’Ghuls, whose stories unfortunately do have a lot of racist elements in their origins. Are you doing anything to combat or alleviate those concerns in your book?

Stories often dehumanize them, so I try to do the opposite. I think I have a very character-driven style of storytelling, and a lot of the time I try to give the point of view of as many people as I can in the story.

There are five issues. Three of them have the Robins, and then eventually we get to my 2nd favourite team up, which is with Talia and it’s done from her perspective. The main goal was to try to give her more of a voice, because you start this story with a kid who tells you “My parents are messed up,” he was essentially raised to kill people, but we see how she was raised too, and the faults that she can see in her father’s philosophy.

Ra’s gets a bit of that as well later on, but the main goal was, I want to make it so that when you start the story with Damian, he has a lot of preconceived ideas about both sides of his family, which make his relationships to everyone very difficult. Every adventure he has, he gets to understand things in a different light by the end of every story, and one of them was, “What is his relationship to his mom like?” And you get to see it from the mom’s point of view and understand that she loves her son, but there are a lot of complications that come from being raised by someone like Ra’s.

Beyond that, this is an older Talia, more mature and less sexualized than the usual I’d say. As for Ra’s, I can’t say much, but a lot of what you see of him at first is rooted in Damian’s childlike, heightened, and scared perception. Just like the rest, it gets explored later.

It sounds like the book will see Damian coming to terms with his place in the Robin lineage. How does he feel about his brothers?

This Damian would probably say they're usurpers, ingrates, failures and profiteers! It's pretty hard being raised as the center of all the attention, as well as a successor who's never quite enough for his grandfather, and then when thrown into the Bat family, he becomes what feels like the fifth wheel. The last and least appreciated son. So his whole arc will be about processing that.

Is there a character other than Damian that you’re particularly excited to be writing and/or drawing?

Jason and Talia, by a lot. I think because the core of it is this is a world of people who seem very perfect. Damian works as this kid who feels like he’s not good enough for that. But aside from him, there’s Jason, who’s really a well-intentioned, good hearted person who really bad stuff happened to, and he’s struggling to get out of the traumatic impact of that. And I think the story works really well in showing that.

Talia is kind of the same. It’s someone who has a very idealistic view of the world and wants to essentially, be allowed to shape the world into what she thinks it could be, but she has to be under the boot of someone else who is not very reputable, and it has impacted a lot of her life in ways that she did not intend, including her relationship to her son and that’s also probably why those two characters also get like an issue told from their perspective. I really wanted to show you the inside of their mind and dispel a lot of the prejudice that Damian has about the way they are.

I really love the way you visualize Damian and the other Robins expressing themselves with their eyes. What design elements of the character were you most excited to highlight to help show readers what Damian was feeling in a given moment?

I do love using the eyes to express! It’s a very efficient and visually compelling way to do it, but more so than that I use character design. Their shapes, their colors, they all are designed to convey something relative to the story at hand. For example Jason takes cues from Taxi Driver and the general feeling of alienation and being a drifter. It’s all to give a shorthand into how he feels, to then unpack that and give it context. Everything is story basically. Damian looks like a cute angry potato! And that’s all because despite how abrasive he can be, he has to remain endearing and you must see that it’s still a kid learning.

Well, since this is your own thing, I assume that must mean that you’re giving your own spin on these characters. Is there anything without spoilers that you can tease that is going to be different? Like if you’re a long time reader going into this you’re going to be surprised by it.

I’m someone who really likes a more fairy tale and magical side to storytelling. Something that I added a bunch of, I mean, they talk about demons in the solicits of the first issue. It’s both an allegorical thing and a very, real thing that the magical aspects of certain parts of that world have been pushed more.

The other big thing for me was Damian is the heart of the story, so everything is seen from his point of view. So Batman looks a lot more like a dad. Talia looks a lot more like a mom, and with every one of the Robins, I try to take a core concept of every one of them and push it to the forefront to contrast it to Damian. So like, I would say that the more fun part of it would be observing how Damian interacts with what’s essentially kind of a mirror put to himself every time. But overall the idea is a sort of cartoon-making logic, of taking the general elements in various iterations of a character, synthesizing them for the story, into something recognizable but digestible.

The Boy Wonder has this beautiful visual style - fairy tale, as you just said - despite some strong moments of violence. Why did you choose to tell the story this way?

Fairy tales are great for allegory, larger than life concepts and leaning into the magical. There's also a story reason I can't spoil but it makes for a great framing device.

[...] There are narrative reasons in the book that I can’t spoil, but overall I’d say it’s because it’s my favorite format, as well as a great way to really lean into the larger than life aspect, the allegorical, the magical. Fables often contain a nugget of a message or meaning, and this is a coming of age story, so it fits rather well.

The Boy Wonder is as much about Damian as it is his brothers. Has that story not been told enough — how similar and different Bruce’s kids really are — and did you draw on your relationship with siblings at all?

Pretty much no one I talk to in the larger world ever even knows that there are multiple Robins, let alone read their stories. So I’m glad to be making a book that’s easy to access for new readers, with no prior knowledge needed, that appeals on its own and can tell them a cool story about family and overcoming pressure. A story that works both for the ones who know these characters and want a self contained tale, and the ones who know nothing and just want a fun comic to read. The comic is Black Label, which usually skews older, but this is a tale I wanted accessible from mid teens to as old as you want.

And I did pull from experience! I have two siblings, my best friends all do as well, and the inner workings of how you view yourself and your family members depending on where you fit is interesting to me. It’s very much a tale of reckoning with your assumptions about your family, as well as the impact your parents had on you and your siblings.

What about Damian Wayne is so interesting to you? Do you think he gets a bad rap even now in the grander DC Universe?

Damian is simultaneously the most insufferable and most touching little boy to me. There’s a mix of adorable and deadly that I find amusing to watch, and satisfying to write. Plus I sympathize with him on a few backstory elements which are the cornerstone of the whole story.

As for his reputation, I think I’m glad there’s a reminder that being coarse and ill mannered can hide a good heart.

What are some of the benefits of putting this out as a DC Black Label book?

Mostly freedom! I got to tell the story I wanted. I didn't have to worry about continuity, and thus made what I like making: a self-contained adventure that anyone can appreciate as a comic, with or without any prior exposure to that world. Plus we got to have fun with the design of the issues!

Do you have a favorite Damian-starring story that you drew on for this book? Or maybe another Bat Family story instead/as well?

I think my two favorites were Son of Batman and Super Sons. I just vibed a lot with the fun adventurous tone. But most of my inspiration comes from outside superhero comics, or even outside comics as a whole. I didn’t even reread those two books I mentioned aside from when I needed to check phrasing. In that case I read those, and the early Damian stories just to absorb how he spoke.

But outside superhero stuff, were there any influences that were working on you as you were writing this story?

So a lot of comics from the 60s and 70s, from France and Belgium.I have a thing for like 80s and 90s movies, including movies that I was not supposed to watch when I was a kid, so stuff that’s drama-oriented. The point of this book is, it’s basically a character study, mostly of Damian, but also Damian through his interactions with other people in his life. So, mostly the other Robins, but also his parents and more so his mother.

The events that happen are really just a setting for you to observe how the characters interact, and there’s a bunch of movies in the 80s that were really good at doing that and showing you a very flawed person and the way that they react to the world around them. So yeah, that’s more of a tone thing. The aesthetic aspect was really taken from 60s and 70s French and Belgian comics as well as very old sci-fi, fairy tales, and black and white photography.

What’s the process look like for you when you write and draw a comic?

Whoa. Let’s see. So the origin of every book is a little different, but usually I spend a year or two, maybe more just thinking about the story and putting ideas down and then once I have an idea of how every story step works into each other, I start storyboarding so there’s no script.

[...] I don’t write scripts because I prefer to have the storyboard of the thing already made, because that’s where I know if something is working or not. Then once the storyboard has been greenlit and all the corrections are done, the next step is drawing the final pages. I do the sketching on my tablet, and then I print that in blue lines and ink over that. It’s a recent thing, I started doing it the last few months. The Boy Wonder was made that way. [...]

[...] I mean, technically, I started writing it in 2020 or 2021. Yeah. I’ve been sitting on it for a while, and then I made a tweet about it and it got the attention of Chris Conroy, who basically runs Black Label. He just asked, like, “OK, sure. Show it to me. I want to see what that’s like.” Several months later, the book was greenlit by DC.

You talked about how Batman: The Animated Series is an inspiration for this. And also because it’s Damian, I assume that the Grant Morrison Batman stuff is also an inspiration in some ways. But what other Batman material were you inspired by, if any, when writing this book?

Well, I wasn’t so much using Batman as I was using other things. Like there’s a bunch of influences from a bunch of different places, but the superhero stuff was mostly influenced by Darwyn Cooke. So it wasn’t so much Batman as much as it was Cooke. Like the thought process I guess was, “What do I like about these characters? Like the concept of the superhero?” Because the idea came from me watching a documentary about The Dark Knight Returns and Frank Miller. They mentioned how he was given free reign to make the Batman book he wanted. I just had the thought of, “Yeah, that would be fun, having a superhero story where you can just do whatever you want. Like, it’s your personal take.”

I guess from then, my brain started imagining a story with Damian because he’s my favourite Robin and I have a lot in common with him in terms of his backstory. I think it was this sense of sympathy towards the kid and the story grew from wanting to talk about the feeling of “You’re not good enough to be a part of the group you’re in or the family you’re in.” So being a superhero was more of an allegory of, “I don’t feel good enough to be a part of those great people who seem so perfect.”

Then the Darwyn Cooke stuff came. He was probably the biggest superheroic influence, because he’s kind of the epitome of superhero storytelling to me. He makes all his stories very easy to understand, very accessible to someone who maybe has never opened or barely knows what that character is about. His storytelling is also strong on its own artistic terms and most of all, he has this great sense of making superheroes this idea of the ideal version of ourselves, like those people who, even if they have bad thoughts or flaws that they have to overcome, they always do the right thing and they represent the best in all of us, and there’s a sort of sense of joyful fun in the superhero stories that he does. He also can talk about very serious subjects through that at the same time. My favourite superhero comic is The New Frontier, and I kept reading it over and over again when I was rewriting the book just to look at how he was managing that balance of joyful, superheroic, and inspirational fun, and the more serious themes. So yeah, the biggest influence would probably be him.

When I was doing research for this, I noticed that this isn’t your first time with a Damian comic. It was the “Happy Birthday Damian” story for Truth and Justice. Even over there, there’s a lot of similarities in terms of the character design, and even to some degree, Damian’s own struggle with his family and all that. So did that story help inform or define where you wanted to go with the characters for this book?

Well, no actually because basically when they asked me to do that story, the way it happened was that I was originally approached for something else, and I said, “I don’t really want to do that, but I’ve been writing this Damian story just for myself. Would you like to take a look?” Truth and Justice was kind of a test like, “We already have this story written by Andrew Aydin, and the idea was, do you want to draw it? It’s kind of a test run.” So I just used the designs I had already made for my own book. The fact that the themes are very similar is kind of a coincidence and it was kind of funny actually. It was a good way to sort of try my hand at drawing these for the first time, get a sense of what works and what doesn’t. I would say my story is a lot more complex, and delves a lot more into the psychology of most of the characters.

This book is an anthology like you said, where it’s about Damian with all these characters. But in terms of the structure of the story, is there like a connection beyond that, like Monkey Meat is all about the corporation. So is there a connection like that in this story?

Yes. It’s a narrative cut into different, contained stories, basically. Because the idea is that Damian is on a quest to try and prove his worth by defeating an enemy, and it’s really more of a set up to allow for him to meet all the different characters that he does. But the goal is that every story progresses that main plot that he’s on and getting closer to the final showdown against the big enemy.

The whole point is this kid needs to grow up and understand the familial context that he was born into on both sides, like a lot of it is him learning how complicated his parents are, and the effect that they’ve had on the people around them and learning to move beyond the trauma and the more negative impact of being the son of a guy who dresses like a bat, or the descendant of a selfish egomaniac. The big plot of the thing is a young boy wants to prove his worth and every story is a step on that journey towards the final end.

For Damian, you said he’s your favourite Robin. You relate to him a lot, but was there anything beyond that that made you want to sit back and think, “Okay, this is the character that I want to give my own spin on?”

I love the concept of Robin. When I was a kid, that was probably the thing that I liked the most about the Batman world. The reason why Damian worked so well is that it was such a perfect way to also tackle the previous ones, so every one of them represents some aspect of what being a Robin is like, and you can use that as an allegory for being part of a group or family with a code and stuff. You can talk about being part of a group with specific ideas of how you should behave, what kind of things you should uphold as good.

Damian’s the runt of the family. He’s the kid who just showed up. He doesn’t really know these people. He has a lot of preconceived ideas and it was a good way for me to be able to also talk about the previous Robins through him. It’s not a meta commentary, it’s more like, “Why do you like these concepts? What speaks to you as a person when you watch those beacons of goodness do things?” Damian is kind of like the audience surrogate in discovering that aspect of things at the same time.

What’s Damian’s favourite sandwich?

Well, I’m going to try and focus on my version of Damian from The Boy Wonder specifically. That Damian, his favourite sandwich would probably be something made by the mystical creatures that serve his grandfather, who take care of the whole land that they live in. So it’ll probably be a sandwich made with vegetables and meat from supernatural sources, something that he would not be able to get in Gotham because no one even knows that this stuff exists.

I like the idea of how even his favourite food is inaccessible in the new place that he’s in, furthering the whole alienation that he’s experiencing.

If Damian had a favorite song, what would it be and why?

I’m now going to show my age and mention how my teen sister listens to these moody chill songs that sound like the softer version of the emo rock I listened to as a teen, so I’d say that style! (Don’t ask me to name them, I don’t know!)

A song from my angst phase? “Numb” by Linkin Park.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

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Am I the asshole for getting a restraining order against my anti-vax sister and her family?

I know that sounds bad but hear me out.

So I (27 M) and my wife (28 F) recently had our first child together six months ago and my parents and sister have started coming over to see our baby girl.

I didn't let them see the baby when she was born because unfortunately my wife and I were in a bad car accident. (Drunk driver ran us off the road and the car rolled down a small cliffside until it flipped over and crashed) we're both ok but my wife is now wheelchair bound and our daughter had to be delivered and put in an incubator for the rest of pregnancy because my wife was only 26 weeks pregnant at the time.

It was a miracle that our baby even survived.

But because my daughter was born so early she has a lot of health problems, including an incredibly weak immune system.

This is where the Am I The Asshole part comes in.

Obviously because of the horrible circumstances my family, particularly my sister, have been very patient on not being able to see the baby until everything settles down.

Well things have settled enough that we felt comfortable enough letting my parents come over to visit and meet their new granddaughter.

And that would've been fine if my sister (30 F) hadn't come too.

My sister is an anti-vaxxer. A hardcore anti-vaxxer.

Like full on believing in essential oils and healing crystals and literally ANYTHING other than traditional medicine. And considering the fact that she spent the entirety of my wife's pregnancy sending her guides for "vaccine detoxes", what essential oils to use and constantly pressuring her not to get our daughter vaccinated...yeah.

(Luckily my wife is way too smart to actually believe that bullshit and kept leaving my sister on read whenever she would start)

So my sister came over and brought her three children with her. None of her children are vaccinated.

She wanted to let her unvaccinated spawns near my heavily immunocompromised infant daughter.

Two of the three spawns were both sick with colds.

I cannot believe she would be that stupid.

So I yelled at her, telling her to take her children and leave because they sure as hell arent coming NEAR my daughter. She yelled at me saying that she wanted to see her niece and her essential oil covered gremlins would help give my daughter "natural immunity" and other anti vax crap. I argued back that if my daughter catches whatever PREVENTABLE diseases the kids are carrying she could very likely DIE.

And it turned into a whole big fight in the driveway. I ended up punching my brother in law (sister's equally anti-vax husband) in the face when he tried to push past me and let the children into my house. (He also punched me twice after that)

It was an entire mess.

Eventually my parents dragged my sister and her husband away and made them leave with their kids.

Once that whole ordeal ended I gave the entire driveway a deep clean and threw out the clothes I was wearing that day. (Call me paranoid but I do not want ANY risk of my baby girl getting sick and very possibly DYING because of my sister and her family)

My wife and I have my sister and her husband blocked on everything and I'm working on getting a restraining order against those people because there is no way in hell you could convince my sister to just vaccinate her children. So I do not want her, her husband or her children anywhere near my family ever again.

So Am I the asshole? My sister certainly thinks I am (my mother told me. she's been yapping away to her facebook group friends about how unfair and horrible I'm being when she did nothing wrong)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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captain-krow-drozdov · 1 year

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Two For The Price Of One

(Linked Universe/BOTW Wild/Link AU)

BOTW Link Has Two Braincells Souls

1. The Hero That Died 100 Years Ago (Link)

And

2. The Artificial Sheikah Soul From The Shrine Of Resurrection/The Player (Tech)

Upon Finding Out From The Old Man That Having Another Person In Your Head Isn't The Norm They Decided That Link Gets To Keep His Name And The Artificial Sheikah Soul Will Now Be Dubbed Tech (Once Joining The Chain Link Picks Up The Nickname Unity And Tech Picks Up The Nickname Wild).

Unity/Link Still Has Amnesia But Ends Up Gaining A Lot Of Their Memories Back Pretty Quickly After Finding All The Picture Locations And Wild/Tech Literally Just Got Here When They Woke Up In The Shrine So It Was A Learning Process For Both Of Em.

Unity/Link Is Good With Swords, Shields And Most Weapons Whereas Wild/Tech Is Good With Archery, The Sheikah Slate(Mental Connection Go Brr) And Stealth. Unity/Link Has The Heros Spirit And Wild/Tech Is Just Here For The Vibes And To Be A Chaos Enabler. (Unity/Link Was A Domesticated Chaos Gremlin By The Time He Died And Wild/Tech Is Going To Un-Domesticate Him If It's The Last Thing He Does)

They Are Unfortunately Both Idiots/Chaos Gremlins And Socially Awkward And Will 100% Play Mental Rock Paper Scissors The Loser Has To Deal With Socializing.

Wild Ultimately Looks The Same But Also Has Some "Something Supernatural Is Going On There" Vibes Like Sharper Teeth, The Fact That Their Eyes Glow/Eyeshine, Scary Good Night Vision, Always Cold, Movements/Vibe Just Off Enough To Trigger Some Primal Fear In Strangers, Their Blood Has A Faint Glow To It And When Wild/Tech Is In Control The Blue Glow In Their Eyes Is Brighter And More Noticeable.

Mentally However, Unity/Link Looks Like He Did Back When He Was A Knight Before The Calamity Hit And Wild/Tech Looks Like A Sheikah Recolor Of Unity/Link But They Have Ancient Technology Markings Near Their Eyes And Where Any Visible Veins World Be As Well As Blue Fire Eyes That Glow In The Dark Similar To Guardians/Ancient Tech.

At This Rate Unity/Link & Wild/Tech Are On "Do Not Separate" Levels Of Chaotic Head Roommates. They Can Actively Switch Out Who's Driving The Body At Will And With Enough Focus Can Copilot The Body.

They Are Actively Keeping Score Of Who Is Closest To Figuring Out That There Are Two People Behind The Mental Wheel Of The Champion Link (Four And Zelda/Flora Have The Highest Scores).

{I Offer Incorrect Quotes For The General Dynamic/Vibe Of These Two}

Wild/Tech: If you See Me Talking To Myself, Go Away! I’m Self-Employed And We’re Having A Staff Meeting!

Unity/Link & Wild/Tech: Am I a Boy? Am I A Girl? It Doesn't Matter. I'm Going To Burn Your House Down.

Unity/Link: Name A More Iconic Duo Than My Crippling Fear Of Not Being Worthy Of Being The Hero And My Anxiety. I'll Wait.

Wild/Tech: You And Me!!!

Unity/Link, Tearing Up: Okay.

Unity/Link, Trying To Put His Knight Training To Use: Ok We Need A Plan...

Wild/Tech, Currently In Control Of The Body Pulling Out A Bomb Arrow: We Have A Plan. The Plan Is Burn Everything Until We Are All That's Left Standing!

Unity/Link, Fighting And Losing To His Pyromania Demons: That'll Work =)

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech...

Wild/Tech, Bloody And Bruised From A Recent Tumble Down A Mountain Due To Ignoring Shield Durability While Shield Surfing: Oh No, 'Wild/Tech' In B-Flat.

Wild/Tech: You're Disappointed.

Wild/Tech: So That’s My Plan.

Unity/Link, A Trained High Ranking Knight: Are You Alright With Constructive Criticism? I Don’t Want To Sound Mean.

Wild/Tech: No, Go Ahead, I Want To Hear It.

Unity/Link: It Fucking Sucks We Are Going To Die.

Wild/Tech: That’s Not Very Constructive Of Your Criticism.

Unity/Link: I Prevented A Murder Today.

Wild/Tech, Who Watched The Whole Exercise Of Self Restraint Go Down: Really? How’d You Do That?

Unity/Link: Self Control.

Wild/Tech: I CAN'T DO IT UNITY/LINK!

Unity/Link, Laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Wild/Tech: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Unity/Link: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT WILD/TECH, YOU CAN GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE I CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND I KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT ME.

Wild/Tech: . . .

Wild/Tech: I Appreciate It,

Wild/Tech: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH MAN-

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech We Gotta-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND DUDE. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What Am I Willing To Put Up With Today?'

Wild/Tech, Motioning To Calamity Ganon: NOT FUCKING THIS!

#captain's posts #played botw today and my brain was like yo new Linked Universe idea just dropped #linked universe au #linked universe wild #link botw #tag me if anyone uses this for a fic i wanna read it <3 #captain does the writing thing

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donutwatches · 10 months

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MHA 2.9 - Bakugo vs. Uraraka - part 1

Oh wow, he really came up here saying “I don’t even know who you are”. He has a lot of nerve commenting on anyone’s face considering his own face looks like a permanently pissy gremlin that got woken up too early from a nap at his daycare in hell.

I’m with you Uraraka, it is a pretty low-tier insult. Bakugo is about as creative with character nicknames as I am, which is to say, not very creative at all.

It is sweet that everyone is worried and wants the best for Uraraka, but I wish that it was not packaged in sexism. It feels like no one has faith in Uraraka’s ability to win. Makes me sad.

Shonen is not exactly a hot-bed for feminist thought, so I always expect to be disappointed. It is annoying that shows targeted at boys still perpetuate attitudes that de-value girls.

Bakugo is clearly not going to hold back and I kind of love it. Taking it easy on someone in a competition is insulting regardless of gender. It seems like he is taking her seriously as an opponent. Good!

THAT’S RIGHT, URARAKA IS BADASS, DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE! Her quirk is powerful too, she only needs to touch him once to turn the fight in her favor. The only thing holding her back is shonen troupes (unfortunately those are much harder to overcome).

What is wrong with these people? Booing Bakugo is valid, but they are booing for the wrong reasons. This is a rare instance of Bakugo being right. I cannot believe these heckling a-holes are making me root for Bakugo. Inconceivable.

Ooooooooh, somebody is in tRoUbLe.

You know that embarrassing feeling when a teacher calls you out in front of the whole class? Imagine being a grown adult getting called out in front of a whole stadium and having it broadcast on TV. I would evaporate on the spot.

Aizawa is harsh with that cut-throat protectiveness of his students (good for him). It might have been merciful to just kill the guy. Teach is 100% correct. An adult booing a teenager at a high school sports event is not hero material. Especially, for the silly ass reason they were booing in the first place.

It was refreshing to hear Aizawa say what I have been thinking out loud. Bakugo is taking Uraraka seriously, and booing him for that is disgraceful.

This is turning out to be less sexist than I feared. Bakugo’s equal treatment of Uraraka as a competitor is great. Aizawa’s defense of both Bakugo’s regard for the fight AND of Uraraka’s strength has reassured me that the intended message is to NOT underestimate an opponent because they are a girl.

click here for part 2

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime #uraraka #uraraka ochako #bakugo #bakugou katsuki #aizawa #aizawa shouta #i hate people who heckle in crowds #boo

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citrusotakutea · 5 months

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Hey op just curious what makes you hate the new Hellsing fanbase. As a fellow Hellsing fan I was wondering if I’ve completely missed something strange going on lately.

The new Hellsing fandom honestly irks me because of the surface level probing of the source material*. Yes, to most it's a hard core, dark, violent, mad and bad-ass anime but, like I've said so often, for so long on this dumb blog, it has the BEST female characters I've ever seen, recently rivaled by Arcane. Incredible depiction of platonic relationships and morally grey characters. To me, it's primarily a found family story, among other things.

The side characters are incredible, Yumi and Heinkel are the most underrated of the show. I mean come on priest and nun lesbians (lesbian used liberally). Heinkel is confirmed by the author to be an INTERSEX HUMAN. Alucard shapeshifts into a female (which, looking at the Devilman fandom, everyone took for an obvious trans metaphor, why not here?). The source material is as homoerotic as it can get between a lot of the characters (the tension between Sir Integra and Seras during the blood scene). Let's not forget Rip van Winkle, Pip, Walter, and Alexander. Alucard's teasing, Seras' naivety and subsequent maturity, Pip's endurance and playful wittiness. These characters and relationships are stuck in my head forever, they're all incredibly unique, fleshed out and worth remembering, no matter how short a time they spent on screen. And the character designs? As a long-time vampyr and catholic guilt fan, can I just say. Rawr. This show shaped how I dress like irl and my own shitty characters, as well.

Sir Integra is my favorite character of the show and one of all time. Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Like, an actually good depiction of a no-nonsense, androgynous as hell, unabashedly commanding (dare I say) woman? And it's played completely straight? No "Whaaa that's a woman?" every 2 seconds or "heh, you will listen to me despite my womanhood" from her. Powerful in her own right despite being the few "magic"-less humans of the series. 0 sexualized Ultimate scenes (sorry Seras and the "hot down there" comment doesn't count, that was banter). She was fucking knighted by the Queen of England before she was even 25, hence Sir Integra. Canonically bi-racial and South-Asian. I'm not even going to go into her character's willpower and values but. Hellloooo???

Not to mention, something noteworthy about the series, but Hellsing works because Hirano made time for silly moments. I mean, hell, one of the scenes I remember most vivdly was the gag of Heinkel lighting Sir Integra's cigar and being mega-pissed about it during the final battle, it's funny yet in character, despite many fans saying the humor throws you out of the "reality" of the show.

Oh no, but what do the new fandom gremlins talk about? "Alufart rails Y/A" "OMG VLADCARD'S BARA HAIRY TIDDIES I WANNA RUB MY FACE AGAINST THEM" (you know who you are) “I drew the most fucked up version of Alucard I could think of in my twisted mind”

and my personal "favorite":

"omg 🥺 what if intewa and alucard kisswdd", it's almost as bad as Seras x Alucard.

Unfortunately, I am a part of the ship police, so I'm gonna say right now that these two are my most hated ships:

1) Sir Integra and Alucard's relationship goes beyond romance to me. Since none of the new fans know the lore, Sir Integra is and will die a virgin (canon), it's literally plot relevant because by having sex, if she gets bit she will become a zombie slave (obvious but apparently needed to be said) and, taking a note from the 2001 anime, gone is any chance to continue the Hellsing mission. If she was bitten, plot armor aside, she'd have to off herself instead of becoming a vampire. (and for you freaks out there/pos, dare I say… ace representation? you can argue about desire and subtext later)

2) Seras and Alucard's relationship was specifically noted by the author to be a father/daughter dynamic, which is kind of obvious in the show. Like I said, fundamentally a found family series. Yeah, you don't need to treat found family like family family but I gen can't stand this ship.

I know that people will ship characters who've never been in a room together before. I can't stop people from shipping them and these two ships have ALWAYS been popular in the fandom. I typically ignore this and, yes, "don't like, don't interact" is my main rule. However, new fans ONLY talk about this stuff. None of the rest of the show seems to matter, just Alucard's hairy mustached tig bitties and him fucking one of the two women in the main cast. Or someone's self insert.

((tangent but personally my favorite ships are Alexander x Alucard (obviously in an enemies to enemies way), Heinkel x Yumi, and a romance only Seras x s.Integra. Like, you want old women yuri??? There ya go! They were in a mansion for like 30 years (I forgot) together, probably going missions alone and sharing their grief over Alucard and their unique experience/history. Like I said, I can't help who people ship, I'm not trying to say the source material is in favor of my ships or "how dare people interpret these obviously gay characters as straight". like no, that's not why I'm upset and ik alucard and alexander weren't yaoi-ing it up but like. alucard and s.integra shippers dni /j))

Not to mention, I couldn't help but notice, despite this information being readily available to my middle school self, no one knows the fckn lore or background of this show?? I honest to god saw someone comment that Hellsing Ultimate™ was a bad “remake” because it diverged from the original anime.

Here's SOME fun facts:

-the 2001 version of the show has a different ending than the manga because it wasn't finished yet (duh). Hellsing Ultimate is "soooo short" because production took almost a decade and it was trying to be a faithful, well-animated (that takes time bruv) adaptation. Oh, and a bunch of directional changes that I won't get into.

-there are multiple OVAs following Walter's youth in WW2 (Hellsing: The Dawn). Young Walter's design honestly was one of my favorites from the series so. Walter enjoyers. Check it out.

-there is a bonus book explaining a lot about the characters and process of creating Hellsing written by Hirano himself. whenever I got a hold of it, though (8+ years ago) there was no English translation.

-Alucard didn't just transform into a girl that one time, he was in his girl form the entire time during WW2 (hence why when people mention his possible affair with the Queen it might've been a sapphic thing but I think that mostly stems from the abridged series. the queen thing not the girl thing)

-Hirano used to be a Hentai mangaka and actually designed many of Hellsing's characters in said hentai or in short stories (such as Crossfire, it's basically extra, non-canonical Hellsing content) beforehand. Which, this used to be the most popular "fun fact" but has been lost to the sands of time now, so prepare for a lot of people rediscovering this.

-personal lore is I almost named myself Rip van Winkle bc of this show (quirked up Portal, Grell Sutcliff, queer-coded, rifle-wielding shawty)

Anyway, to sum it up, I hate when people don't interpret characters in the same way I do. Yes, I am a bad “fandom elder”, idgaf I am fundamentally a hater.

*I keep seeing this happen with old shows that resurface. Unlike newer or more popular shows where every scene gets scoured, characters who showed up for one scene get analyzed, and endless cafe AUs are made- older shows mostly get fan art of the main charas and the ships of the two hottest characters and that's it. Discussion of lore and themes are completely off the table. So I'm not surprised, just disappointed.

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chickenkupo · 5 months

Text

Just My Luck

Summary: The lands are ruled by ruthless gods of various levels of power. Humanity is only a means to an end for their endless desires, if they happen to gain their attention. Many lay low, do what they can to appease the gods and try to live their lives out, as best they can, given the circumstances. Wriothesley is one such mortal. Having committed a great crime as a young boy, he’s constantly fleeing from his past. Little did he know; however, his constant misfortunes lead to his destiny, and it is most certainly not what he was expecting.

Recommendations: None, this is a purely AU work, so you’re good to go, reader.

Warnings: 18+ content, ya’ll. We’re going to get a little spicy here. Not my usual sort of Wriolette content. Neuv is going to be a little dark and demanding in this one, so if that sort of content (I’d guess you’d say it’s very close to yandere), then this isn’t for you. Religious hints/themes are also present in this. Consent really doesn’t exist here. I have been thinking of this sort of god x human trope for a while now, and I just needed to get it out of my brain. So, I guess this is a little self-indulgent work that I hope others out there will appreciate as well? Also, it’s putting me in a mental headspace to make a little follow-up chapter to Coming Home, since it’s looking like ya’ll are wanting that, hehe.

Also, one more warning. This is me trying to write a SHORT story and not have this as a full-blown novel. However, if this does receive a lot of love, I will 100% rewrite this to be a multi-chaptered work. This is me practicing self-restraint and tldr make a short story, you freaking gremlin sorta thing. OH, also, this isn’t beta-read, but will 100% be if this makes it to being AO3-post worthy.

AN: I AM TOO LAZY TO UPDATE MY WARNINGS BUT I MESSED UP AND THIS IS SO LONG BUT ENJOY IT AND IF YOU WANT AN EVEN LONGER VERSION WITH MORE LORE AND ACTION LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS PLZ AND I WILL POST ON AO3 I FAILED KEEPING THIS SHORT, I AM SOOOORRRY

Wriothesley grunted as he was pushed forward, his hands bound behind his back by a golden metallic rope that refused to give way, even in the slightest. The guards that stood beside him ensured that he continued walking down the extravagantly decorated hallway, figures lining each side wearing various elegant dresses and suits, some even in intricately designed armor that mortals were rarely blessed to see. They all watched as the bound man was ushered onward to a large set of doors, decorated with a carved design of a long, serpent-like dragon encompassing the entire outer border of both doors, as if it were protecting what was beyond them. Wriothesley tried to slow his pace, flexing his well-defined muscles, doing whatever he could to try to break the bonds that held him in place, but nothing worked. The guards beside him only stared at his pathetic attempts at breaking free, a few patrons from the sidelines murmuring to themselves, commenting on how he should give up and how silly mortals were, thinking that they could defy even the smallest demands of the gods.

He always found himself in the most unfortunate circumstances, but this was the worst fate that could have befallen a human. Most of his kind kept their heads bowed, living silent lives and avoiding the powerful gazes of the deities that ruled their lands. For mere mortals, the prime level of life that they could wish to live was providing high level sacrifices to appease their rulers, hoping that they would be blessed in return or even ignored, in hopes of being allowed to live their lives to the best of their abilities. If they failed to uphold to this standard and a god felt slighted, even in the smallest of ways, then they were bound to become cursed, and experience the worst luck imaginable, having them wishing for a swift death. No, the gods loved toying with their victims, extending their punishment for as long as possible, feeding upon their misfortune, until their victims took their very last breaths. It was a miserable existence, but as long as you dedicated yourself to providing sacrifices that satisfied their desires and obeying whatever they commanded, then you could potentially avoid their gazes and wraths.

However, Wriothesley didn’t feel as though that was an existence worth living. He was a man that was shaped by misfortune, and rarely feared it. Having been orphaned at a young age and shoved from one foster family to another, he knew exactly what misfortune was, without the direct punishment of the gods. Each family he was tossed to was worst than the last. From having one family relying on him to provide them with everything and having worked to the point of exhaustion to keep food on the table, only to endure harsh beatings regardless of the outcome every night, to being sent off to fighting rings to win boxing matches against young men his age and older, he had seen it all. He eventually had enough and turned on his last foster family, killing his adoptive parents in the middle of the night, fleeing the area and taking the other children that happened to have the same misfortune as him to wherever he was going to go. They did find refuge in small, abandoned buildings, and for once his luck did strike true as he was able to find families that would take his adoptive brothers and sisters in, and not expose them to the same fates that they had before. No, these people took true pity on them, bringing them in and giving them a proper home and a good foundation for raising them. The same families always offered Wriothesley the same conditions, but he would always deny them, saying that he was far too damaged and messed up to be worth anything, too far gone for any sort of redemption or happy ending. Before they could even try to convince him otherwise, he had already taken his leave and was moving onto his next venture.

The young boy grew into a young man, roaming from city and city, finding places to work manual labor that would provide him with just enough funds to survive off of. Whenever a place offered him a permanent position or abode, he would thank them, and then immediately leave, onto the next city, town or village. He didn’t know why, but there was a part of his soul that felt like he was always in constant danger, and needed to run from prying eyes, even if he had no enemies. Though he had murdered his foster parents in cold blood as a boy, there were no further investigations into this, almost as if the crime had never happened. He wished so desperately that this was the truth of the matter, but his suspicions never seemed to completely wane. Someone had to have known, whether it be a mortal or a god. He knew that he was going to have to face the consequences of his actions, however justified that they were. So, he vowed that he would continue moving onward, never stopping, always running.

So, that’s exactly what he did. He never stayed long enough for any human or deity to know him well, and he wanted to keep it that way. Discretion was key, and to be honest with himself, this type of living excited him and kept him feeling alive. For once, he thought that he had finally hit it lucky, this was the lifestyle meant for him and he was going to live it to the fullest. Though his suspicions and underlying fear ruled him deep down, there was an odd sense of freedom that he felt being out on his own like this, and he never wanted to lose this. For once in his life, he felt lucky to be in the position that he was in. He was afraid to feel happy, but he couldn’t help himself. His adoptive brothers and sisters were on their way to a better future, and maybe one day, so would he.

Well, as quick as luck had visited him, it was just as fast to leave. The young man was continuing his work assisting a local general store with helping them bring in heavy goods, a horribly weighted sack placed on his shoulder as he was able to transport it inside of the store before multiple guards, lesser deities by the look of them, all approached him at once. Wriothesley immediately dropped the sack and tried to take off, not even taking the time to question their motives, but he was easily detained. One deity grabbed him by the shoulder and twisting it, pushing him against the wall as another guard brought out a metallic, golden rope, that automatically tied his wrists together behind him. Wriothesley growled as he tried to resist, now finding the time to begin spouting questions as he realized the situation that he was currently in.

“The hell did I even do?! I just got here and haven’t broken any laws, let me go!”

“That’s not up for discussion. You’re to come with us, no questions asked. Any hesitation, and we’ll hunt down your adoptive family and have them suffer for the rest of their days.” one of the growls out, tightening the rope around his wrists ever so slightly, for emphasis. Immediately, Wriothesley shut his mouth and said no word and offered no resistance. So, his suspicions were correct, someone had been keeping tabs on his whereabouts and knew about his past, but what god or mortal alike would hold any sort of interest in him? Sure, he was handsome and had both women and men swooning for him, but that never held any sort of value to him. He also didn’t have any sort of money in savings to his name, using whatever little he earned from odd jobs to be able to afford housing and small, pitiful meals and other necessities.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, as he immediately reminded himself about his biggest fear. Was this finally the retribution that he would be facing for his previous sins? Did the families of his abusive foster parents that he murdered finally send out their agents to find him, and a god had felt it was their time to shine to torture a mortal? There was no escaping it, even if it was the case. Wriothesley then opted to keep his mouth shut, hoping he was overthinking the situation. But, what else could this possibly be over, then? He needed answers, but he wasn’t about to try to fight against them for it.

Reluctantly, Wriothesley complied with their demands, and was ushered into a rather delicately designed carriage, one that clearly belonged to a higher-powered god, but which, he had no idea. The guards also remained silent on the manner, merely ushering him in and taking an odd interest in keeping him safe and comfortable, but still under their ever-watchful gazes. They continued onward with their journey, and eventually reached to where they were now, standing in front of those formidable doors, gods of various levels of power and renown surrounding them all, but their focus all centered on him and him alone. Wriothesley’s heart was racing in anticipation, knowing that he had no choice but to face whatever was beyond those doors, even if it ended up killing him, or worse.

A low, guttural growl was heard, seemingly originating from past the closed entryway in front of them, which had Wriothesley’s eyes widening in shock. Never in his life had he heard such a noise, no other god he had known or met personally held the sort of power that was radiating from such a sound. The others that were previously surrounding him were now shuffling away in fear, some were even shaking, staring straight ahead. A thought suddenly ran through Wriothesley’s head, he noticed that all of the deities were distracted, and he could easily flee from the scene. He tried to will his body to run, but instead it only stayed firmly planted in place, his body no longer under his control. His heart began to race in a sudden panic, and it wasn’t eased as the closed doors in front of him began to part, opening up to reveal a continuation of the current hallway that he was in, but a darkness was at the very end, hiding whatever it was that was awaiting him.

What happened next horrified the young man beyond measure, and by then he knew that he was doomed.

“Wriothesley, step forward, come to me, come to your destiny.” a regal voice called out, though the growl from before was also heard in the same voice, as if they were perfectly mixed together. Whoever was calling to him, this had to be one of the ancient gods of lore, mighty beasts that garnered so much power from its followers and victories of war, that it gained godhood. But, what would such a highly positioned god want with someone low and poor, as himself? Wriothesley wasn’t about to argue, however. Wriothesley tested his muscles, now being able to freely move them. He had regained control of his body, and along with that realization, the golden metallic rope that was previously wrapped around his wrists shattered, releasing their hold on him. Whoever this was wanted him to come willingly and freely, but also prevented him from having any other option. After taking a moment to mentally accept the situation for what it was and what it could possibly be, the man slowly but surely took step after step, inching his way forward, obeying the command that had been called out to him.

Once he was past the dual doors, they both slammed shut behind him, as if signaling there was no way to truly turn back now, the only way was forward. The young man jumped in response to the loud noise behind him, but didn’t bother looking back. Instead, the man glared as he looked forward, a figure now clearly standing where darkness once was, the hallway now oddly illuminated, as if showcasing the person directly in his path.

The god before him stood mighty and tall, long white hair with just as long blue streaks, decorated with golden ornaments, robes that matched the varying colors of the ocean’s brightest waters, swirling around his slim body in an ancient style of robes. His eyes were a sharp lilac color, and gave an odd feeling of being so similar to the eyes of a feline, slit pupils that were slightly dilated as his gaze was transfixed to Wriothesley.

“I see that time has done you well, Wriothesley. You certainly grew into a rather handsome man. I will forever consider myself fortunate to lay claim on you so many years ago, before the others could.” At this, Wriothesley gasped, anxiety beginning to rise within his chest. A god laying claim on him? Ages ago? He would have remembered such a thing, seeing as though the deities usually made a huge spectacle when they took a human as theirs. It wasn’t an uncommon act, but according to what Wriothesley remembered hearing, a god had to be completely enamored with a mortal to do such an act. A claim meant ownership of the mortal by the god, sure, but it also bound them together in a deep, intimate way. The god would always know the whereabouts of the mortal, their control over them being absolute. For the mortal, it meant having a power being provide and protect them, but gods tended to be jealous beings, and this often resulted in a rather lonely existence for the mortal. There were humans that found this to be an absolute obsession for themselves, dolling up their looks and doing what they believed would get the attention of some sort of god that would claim them, but many found that staying away from this sort of deep-rooted obsession was better for them.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. No one’s laid claim on me and- “

“Then how would you explain your horrible luck then, Wriothesley?”

The young man shuddered, every time the god in front of him said his name, an odd wave of feelings started to phase through him that he couldn’t quite explain. It was like it felt right, and a small part of him wanted to hear the figure continue to say his name, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. The hell was wrong with him? He has never had such thoughts about others like this, why now?

“I-I’m not following…”

“I saw you kill your foster parents. I knew what you did was justified, my dear. They were horrible and their sins innumerable. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself and the little ones. It’s not often that I find myself observing humans as closely as you, and I knew from that moment forward, you were someone I wanted. Someone with such a profound sense of justice, and the spirit to carry out punishment. So, I cursed you.” The man continued to explain, as if it were common knowledge.

“Why the fuck would you curse someone that you’re interested in? Are you fucking insane?!” Wriothesley shouted out, stomping forward to stand right in front of the mighty being. The ancient one’s brows furrowed, glaring at the young man in front of him.

“Wriothesley…” the god said, his tone demanding respect and issuing a single and final warning.

Wriothesley bared his teeth at the ancient one, issuing his own, small, pathetic growl, in comparison. However, he understood and heeded the silent warning, not taking any further action, allowing the omnipotent being before him to continue on with his explanation.

“Of course. I didn’t want to take you away, especially with you being so young. However, I wanted no other god to look upon you in favor and want you for themselves. So, I placed a curse on you, and took care of anyone being aware of you committing murder. You would always feel as though someone or something was chasing you. A home would never be one for long, your soul aching to keep searching for something. If a suitor tried to approach you, you would take no notice or interest. They, also, would disappear from your life. Luck would abandon you, forcing you to follow your true destiny with hardships that would test you, mold you for your potential to come alive. You were to keep living your life, until I was prepared to receive you, and you were of a proper age. Now, is the time, Wriothesley…”

The powerful being before him then snapped his fingers, the area around them turning pitch black for just a moment, before the it was illuminated once more, showing a marble decorated room with various different nautical decorations adorning every aspect of it. Blues, golds and silvers lined and adorned every aspect of it, treasures beyond measure lay everywhere, as if the room itself were a museum of the heavenly bodies. In the middle of the room, and directly behind the god, was a giant, circular bed with blankets of the finest silk with the same level of intricate designs on them as well. Wriothesley’s breath stuttered, as he took a small step back, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Now is the time to consummate our binding, wouldn’t you agree? It’s been many years, and my hunger for you is insufferable…” the being in front of him stared intensely into his own eyes, unable to avoid him. A million thoughts were running through Wriothesley’s mind, but only one question was able to come out.

“W-w-who are you…?”

“Ah, yes. Sincerest apologies, my love. You may know me by many names, and by many forms, though this is my true self, that I will never hesitate to show and share with you. The title you humans appear to have given me in my temples is Neuvillette, god of all that is hydro, the waters of all are mine, of the lakes, the sea…” Neuvillette purred as he began to approach Wriothesley.

“Of every human body, but especially yours…”

The young man hastily started taking steps backwards, never keeping his eyes off of the powerful being before him, but it was to no avail for his situation. Suddenly, behind him, he felt a sort of cushion that he was then pushed down onto, sheets wrapping up around him as he became entangled in them. It took a moment for him to realize that the god before him must have teleported the both of them straight to the circular bed he had observed before, and now both of them completely nude and exposed to each other. Wriothesley shrieked as realized the position that the two were in now, him being laid out on the bed like a meal on a decorated platter, while the god above was draped over him in pure possession and domination, but that wasn’t the only reason why he screamed out. The young man also observed the full body of the god in front of him, perfectly chiseled muscles but with a slim, elegant figure. White, creamy skin that was free from any blemish or imperfection, and perfectly smooth with little to no body hair, except for his lower body, where white pubic hair trailed from below his navel down towards his lower pelvic region, where instead of one perfectly thick and long member, he seemed to have…two…

Oh, fuck, he was truly not going to make it out of this alive, whether Neuvillette realized it or not.

“G-Get the fuck off of me, just kill me!” Wriothesley screamed out, trying his best to push the god off of him, but once more, to no avail. Though his muscles were much larger than the deity that was draped above him, it mattered little. Whatever claim the god had on him seemed to hold true, he could never overpower him.

“Never, Wriothesley, never, you’re staying with me for the rest of eternity. I will show you how a god truly appreciates his claimed…” Neuvillette growled out, as he lowered his head and nuzzled Wriothesley’s neck, licking it repeatedly in a sensual manner, as if he were handling an absolute treasure. Wriothesley shut his eyes as he moaned in pleasure, not able to prevent himself from doing so, as his hips started rutting upwards, his member starting to harden from just the simplest of touches from this being. He blushed in embarrassment, but no one had ever touched him in this way before, no one had ever said such words to him. Everything he ever wanted to hear and feel from someone, Neuvillette was serving it on a silver platter for him, and he was a starved mortal, ready to accept it all.

“Ah, ah, what are you doing to me, Neuvillette…” Wriothesley breathed out, in a husky voice, fully immersed in all of the emotions and sensations he was feeling. Neuvillette only smiled against the skin of his neck, as his hands began to roam the young man’s body. Soft, but powerful hands continued to caress him, touching Wriothesley in places he never dared imagine anyone else doing so. From his muscled pectorals, down the sides of his stone hard abdomen, and then finally down to his rear as Neuvillette grabbed his cheeks, giving them a nice, firm squeeze, sharp nails digging into the meat of them, but never breaking the skin.

“I’m showing you how much you mean to me, you’re my desire, my passion, my reason to hold firm to my rule, so that no other may touch you like this. Only me, only ever me…” Neuvillette mumbled, burying his head back into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck as he continued.

Wriothesley let out a dirty moan as Neuvillette’s fangs elongated, rooting themselves deep into his neck, and tasting of his blood. The god made sure that when he released and his fangs retracted, that the wound would heal, but leave behind a deep scar that none other would question. He made sure in the back of his mind, to order one of his underlings to immediately begin commissioning a necklace for Wriothesley, that would accentuate his looks but also have the marks forever on full display for the world to see.

At this point, Wriothesley was hard as a rock, his member leaking precum as it begged for attention, for a release, for pleasure, and Neuvillette was more than happy to oblige. Removing himself from the young man’s neck, Neuvillette moved over to Wriothesley’s lips, licking them lightly, biting at him just a smidge, before he invaded them completely, inserting his long tongue and exploring the depths within. Wriothesley greedily allowed him to do so, wrapping his arms around the neck of the god, pressing him further down so that the kiss could be deepened even further, if that was possible. Neuvillette could only smile as he continued his assault, a hand now trailing down Wriothesley’s body, feeling the differences between the two. Where Neuvillette’s body was smooth and perfect, Wriothesley’s had dark hair that covered his arms, some of his chest, and definitely trailed down to his lower regions, oozing manly features. His body, though littered with scars from the trials and tribulations of his life, only seemed to further decorate how in his own way, he was powerful and worthy to be the claimed of Neuvillette.

As the hand of the god reached Wriothesley’s member, the man groaned, still stuck in the deep and passionate kiss, continued to raise his hips up, a while leaving his lips as his member demanded any sort of friction against it. Neuvillette grabbed him, stroking up and down, thumb teasing the leaking head. The kiss finally broke as Neuvillette desired to see Wriothesley’s pleasure, as he continued to pump the member of his claimed, doing every action so perfectly and true to the wants and needs of the young man. It wasn’t long before Wriothesley was breathing hard, his body shaking as he released all over the god, thick ropes of cum shooting out and even coating Neuvillette’s chest, as if adding to the creamy skin of his claimer.

Neuvillette could only continue to smile as Wriothesley repeatedly began to apologize, ashamed of what he had done but enjoying feeling every effect his god was bestowing upon him.

“Shhh, my soul, hush now with that. I do not want your apologies for indulging in what I give freely to you. Now, roll over…” Neuvillette growled out, the animalistic side of him starting to show. Wriothesley trembled beneath Neuvillette for a moment, but the god only offered him an odd sense of assurance as he gently led Wriothesley to roll over onto his stomach, directing him to keep his chest lowered onto the bedsheets but his rear raised high, on full display to his god. The young man, still embarrassed, tried his best to hide his face within the lavish sheets of the bed, but didn’t fight back. A part of him wanted this, needed this, wanting this session they were sharing to never end.

Wriothesley felt a warmness spread throughout his core, as he assumed Neuvillette had summoned some sort of water to assist with what was about to happen. The liquid was spread along the crease of his bottom and hole, delicate and soft fingers of the god above him caressing him, touching every inch of him, as if he were savoring his very existence. It wasn’t much longer after this that he could feel an odd flesh shape being pressed against his hole, one of his dicks, Wriothesley surmised. His heart started to pick up it’s pace once more, worried that such a formidable size wouldn’t be able to fit and he would feel nothing but pain as he was tortured into the act. However, that was far from the truth.

The water continued to warm and relax the skin that it touched, his muscles feeling lose and somewhat stretched even before he knew he was being entered. Neuvillette lowered himself once more, kissing Wriothesley’s back and nibbling here and there with his fangs, building up Wriothesley’s desire for him, which he did. Once he heard the young boy beginning to pant, spreading his legs even further and raising his rear even higher, he knew he was ready. Slowly, the god started pressing the head of one of his cocks into the greedy hole of his claimed, and it accepted him with ease. Wriothesley continued to plant his head directly into the sheets of the bed, moaning so loudly and continued to pant like a dog, but he desperately wanted this, needed this. It was only a matter of time before the god was deeply planted inside of him, taking a moment to relish the feel of the warmth that his length was now experiencing. The god then started to pump into his claimed, clawed hands holding onto his waist for support.

The thrusts started out small, and careful, but the pace was quick to change. The more that Neuvillette was planted in Wriothesley, the more that he desired, so his thrusts began to continue with their assault, becoming deeper and rougher.

“Yes, yes! More, more-gah, FUCK!” Wriothesley yelled out as his thoughts started to lose all sense but being completely consumed by pleasure. Within seconds he lost the ability to form any coherent words, only feeling and appreciating the ecstasy that his god was providing for him. Time seemed to go on forever as the thrusts continued, and Wriothesley had begun grabbing onto the nearby sheets, twisting them until they were a complete mess from the perfect state that they were in before.

Another deep, animalistic growl was heard above him, which made him moan even harder, as he felt Neuvillette’s balls slap against his ass from how deep he was thrusting in, the second cock now also fully erect was also slapping against his ass, warm and thick. It seemed that the god did have some form of pity for him, as he had only inserted one of his members this time. But that didn’t stop the conquering of his mortal body. A few more grunts were heard as Wriothesley felt something spill inside of him, so very warm and copious amounts kept flooding in. The young man sighed in absolute bliss, eyes fluttering shut as his body fell down back to the bed, Neuvillette easing him back down, but keeping his member deeply planted as more cum continued to be released inside of his claimed one.

Little did Wriothesley know this was the final act to solidify their bond. The god of hydro had marked him with his essence, and it will never fade. Every god and mortal will instantly know who he belonged to, and Neuvillette will always know what he was feeling, where he was, his thoughts and feelings now completely forfeit to him.

Oh, how lucky this god truly was.

#wriothesley #neuvillette #wriolette #genshin impact #neuvillette x wriothesley #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #genshin smut #wriothesley x neuvillette

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seenoversundown · 4 months

Text

Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 4

Sam Kiszka x Willa (Female OC) Warnings: Teasing (in the making fun of each other way), dark humor, subtle pining, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, and a lot of clumsy girl behavior.

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: Just wanted to take a second to leave some resources in regards to learning about and assisting those affected by the genocide in Palestine. There aren’t words strong enough to convey how devastating the loss is. I will leave a few resources I have found linked and always remember that we’re not free until Palestine is free. #Ceasefire #FreePalestine 🇵🇸

• Six Ways To Help

• Carrd Full of helpful Links and Resources

• Daily Click!

Gives You Hell - All American Rejects “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, gives you hell.”

I feel like I could fight God when my alarm clock goes off in the morning and my first thought is that I'll have to see Sam all day. Oh, great ruler of the Cosmos, please grant me the strength to get through this day. So mote it be.

I slither out of bed like the morning gremlin I am, pull on my robe, and head out to the kitchen, where I know Quinn is already waiting.

Quinn and I developed this cute morning routine back in college, where we met. We attended SCAD together and were lucky enough that we got along so well, both being art majors. Them in Art History and me in Photography. We used to cross the campus early enough to beat the lines, almost regretfully. We’re not exactly the greatest of morning people. I’d get the drinks, though, and they get the food. Only back then, it was just them assembling the breakfast sandwiches in the cafeteria while I tried to make the instant coffee drinkable. These days, it’s homemade lattes and skillfully grilled sandwiches. A vast improvement from our younger days.

“Good morning, Willard,” They beam at me through heavily hooded eyes, already pulling out a pan.

“Morning,” comes out of my mouth in a choppy groan.

“Breakfast sammies?” They wiggle the pan a little.

“Don’t!” I hold up my finger, “That is a banned word in this house.” I sit down on one of the stools at our island and place my head in my hands.

“Breakfast?” they inquire.

“No, Sammy.”

“Okayyyy.. Do you want a breakfast ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named?” they let out a chuckle.

“HA HA, very funny,” I roll my eyes, “- but yes, please.”

I make my way to the espresso machine, grabbing the portafilter and grinding up some fresh beans. I tamp down the grinds and place them back in their rightful spot before pressing the button to queue up the process. Repeating for Quinn’s second shot. Quinn is the complete opposite of basic in every aspect except their coffee order. A Vanilla Oat Milk latte, every time. I make it with extra love because that’s how it should be made. I quickly move on to my latte, only slightly adjacent to basic with toasted marshmallow flavoring instead.

Finishing at roughly the same time we trade specialties and they say “Okay, all wrapped and ready to go when you are.”

“No, I have the time to sit and eat with you Quinny the Pooh, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I smile and make my way to the island in our kitchen. I prop up on my same stool and unwrap my sandwich. God, this looks good. If they weren’t an art teacher, they could hack it as a chef.

Taking the first bite and rolling my eyes in the back of my head, “Good GOD, Quinn, you have outdone yourself again.”

“Thank you, Thank you. So tell me, how prepared are you to see Childish Sambino today?”

The glare I send them over my sandwich is deadly. “Do you have to talk about him?”

“We could talk about his mouth instead,” sending me a sideways glance.

“Oh, would you look at that,” I glance down at my bare wrist as if it contained the most interesting watch. “I’m actually running late. I need to get ready for work.” I set my sandwich back down on the paper and rewrap it to take it to go.

“Have a good day. Make good choices because we just paid rent and I don’t have bail money,” They laugh maniacally. I send them a snarky glare back before shutting my bedroom door behind me.

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When I make it to the Portland Press Herald office, I open the door, and I’m greeted with the sweet face of an older woman working the desk. Thank god it’s not another Daisy. I’d rather jump off the building than have to watch Sam flirt with another girl all day.

She leads me through the hallways until we reach a set of cubicles in the back corner.

“Alright, this one is yours,” She points to the closest cubicle. “And this one,” she points to the cubicle diagonally across from it. “Is Samuel’s. I’ll send him over when he gets here and you can point it out to him if he gets lost.” Well, at least I won’t have to look directly at him.

I start unloading my belongings onto my new desk and trying to arrange them perfectly. When Sam makes his appearance, he rounds the corner looking so good it's painful. The slim, dark blue slacks on his legs just hit the tops of his black Chelsea boots. A mixed red and blue sweater makes home on his chest, don’t think about his chest, with a navy linen winter jacket over top. God, he looks good. Annoying. No man my age looks like that let alone knows how to actually dress themselves.

When I come to my senses, he’s standing expectantly next to my desk. Looking at me like he’s waiting for my reply to a question I haven’t heard him ask. Not willing to give in and appear like I’ve just been thinking about how hot this man I hate is, I dodge.

I point to the clock reading 7:58 am, “Cutting it a little close, huh, Sammy boy.”

“It might not have been so close if you were sitting here staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.” He chides. Internally, I cringe. Yep, I was definitely not subtle. “I had car troubles,” He mumbles in a low tone, “Can you just show me which desk I’m supposed to sit at.” I wave my arm over toward his desk, and he walks away to get settled in his own space. Far away from me.. Well, okay, it's not that far, but it's far enough for me.

He’s in a monumentally bad mood this morning, and after a while the sighs of frustration he's letting out start to tick me off. Who breathes that loudly on a normal day? We’re stuck inside the building researching things until we have an event or idea to even photograph, which is bad enough without the sound of his mouth. I just hope we can get it together sooner rather than later. The faster we find a subject matter, the more time we have to capture it. I hear another loud sigh.

“Could you be any louder, Sam? All I can hear is your huffing?” I stand to get him in my eyeline over the divider. Big mistake. He’s wearing glasses now? I didn’t know he wore glasses. It should be illegal, to be honest, for him to look that good.

“I’m just existing, Willa. Sorry that my existence annoys you.” He pauses, “Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I take great pleasure in the fact that my mere presence sends you into a fit of rage.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a cocky smile.

Oh dear god, I definitely didn't prepare for this, this morning.

“This is not a fit of rage.” I sit back down calmly. Nope, not entertaining this today.

After a few minutes, it’s Sam’s turn to stand. If I lift my head, then I have to talk to him, so I stare at my computer screen where I’m currently researching different parks in the area. He clears his throat, and I don’t move. I will not be beckoned by his antics. He clears his throat louder this time.

“Yes, Samuel.” I finally stop and clasp my hands together, annoyed.

“When did that cafe open up? The new down the road?”

“A couple months ago. Why? Are you going to buy me a coffee to make up for annoying me this morning?” A pleasantly sarcastic smile makes its way to my lips.

“HAH, you wish. No, I thought it could be something to check out for the project.”

“I would hardly call that cafe something that is notable about Maine. It just opened.”

Clearly offended, he states, “Alright, let’s hear your big idea then?”

Sighing heavily, “I know I opened the dialogue here with you Sam, but I’ve suddenly realized that I am far too under-caffeinated to continue to be annoyed by you.”

“Well,” he laughs a little, adding fuel to the fire that is my irritation, “Aren’t you just a breath of vile air this morning.” he snarks.

“I might be more pleasant if your voice wasn’t so grating.” I shoot back. If tension were a physical entity in this moment, someone would be slicing it like a block of cheese being prepped for a charcuterie board. My stomach grumbles slightly. Oh, I am not going to let this man ruin charcuterie boards for me just because I am hangry.

“Shhhh,” someone a few isles extends their distaste for our conversation.

“See, look at what you’ve done.”

“Oh, what I’ve done. I didn’t realize I was talking to myself here.” He defends.

I sit back down in a huff. I cannot believe I have to spend the next few days with this man. A fact that makes it very hard not to get increasingly frustrated by the task at hand. It's March, there’s not a whole lot going on in the city and instead of a partner who is easy to collaborate with, I'm stuck with him.

Just as I get ready to do more digging, I get an email.

Samuel F. Kiszka shared a document with you.

I wonder what the F stands for. I click the link. Compelled by my own nonsense, I sing in my head ‘Wheezy F baby and the F is for front door.’

The document is titled ‘Ideas’ and a singular sentence is typed.

Since you can’t stand the sound of my voice and we can’t talk without getting heavily shushed by Susan B. NoseyPants, does this work?

Why is this simultaneously endearing and aggravating? Because yes, yes, it does work.

We take the time over what feels like a few hours bouncing ideas back and forth, and nothing seems to land with either of us.

Sam: Museums, theaters, ect, ect we even have Funtown for the kids?

Me: You want to lead with Funtown? Palace Playland is better AND by the beach even? If you don’t believe in it, neither will the people at the newspaper.

Sam: I’m not even going to entertain that argument because Palace Playland is definitely NOT better. Have you ever been on the Excalibur?

We both stare at the document, watching the line blink on the screen when the banter is no longer fun. He stands suddenly. “I’m hungry.” He states plainly. “It's almost lunchtime.”

“Astute observation, Samuel. Should we promote you to Captain Obvious?”

“You’re actually the funniest person I’ve ever met, you know. No. I know a place, you and I are going to go get lunch.” He puts on his coat and grabs his bag walking over to my side of the desks.

“We are? When did I agree to that?” skepticism heavy in my tone.

“Just now.” The manner in which he speaks matter-of-factly almost has me giving in instantly. Almost. “We need to get out of these little satanic cubes of torture and do some brainstorming. But we need brain food. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We’re going, but you have to drive.”

“How do you know I’m hungry?”

“I’ve heard your stomach growling for over an hour.”

“Fine.” I concede. “But you’re paying.” I grab my heavy cardigan, slipping it on, and then grabbing my purse.

“That’s the spirit.” He says jovially, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I try not to think too hard about the grip he has on me as we make our way downstairs.

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The atmosphere of the restaurant he picked, “La Fromage”, is almost a bit uppity. How stuck up can you really be if you name your restaurant literally just ‘the cheese’. The lighting is low, even for the daytime, despite the two main windows in the front. The antique sconces create a nice, warm ambiance. It's a small room with bar seating and a few booths, which is where we take up residence right next to one of the windows. We’re tucked away in the corner but not too close to the front door. I slide into the booth against the wall while Sam takes the chair nearest to the walkway.

“This place looks nice. I’ve never heard of it before. How’d you find it?” I’d be a fool to think he hasn't taken a girl here on a date before. He's young and attractive. A fact I would never admit out loud because it would just inflate his already massive ego. I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem dating, something I clearly can’t relate to. He did seem to hit it off with Daisy. I imagine this place in the evening; with the street lights coming in through the windows mixing with the amber lighting, it definitely sets a romantic tone. Much different than the tone of an afternoon in the middle of a work week. It would be lovely to come here on a date instead of a bar.

“They have a location in Boston, not far from where I went to school. I heard they opened a location up here not too long ago, but I haven’t come by yet. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.” He picks up the menu, giving it a once over before settling on the alcoholic portion. So he hasn’t been here on a date.. Yet. Ugh. Stop it. “You should get a glass of wine or something.” Not bothering to glance up at me.

“I’m driving, Sam,” I state plainly.

“If one glass of wine gets you drunk enough to not be able to drive you have other things to worry about,” he looks almost concerned for a moment before his face completely shifts. “Is that why you spilled your drink all over your date the other night?”

God, must I relive this? Why is he bringing it up? As if he has no idea it was his fault. “Sam, you snuck up behind me and scared me half to death. I jumped, it tipped. That’s it.”

“If that’s your story.” The Cheshire cat smile painted on his lips looks almost good enough to smack. With my hand. Definitely my hand.

I’m about to make a case for myself when the waiter approaches.

“Afternoon, I’m Hunter. I'll be taking care of you today.” He looks over at me and winks. .. okay??? “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Sam answers before my mouth even opens. “We’ll have two glasses of the 19 crimes red, please.” Why is he ordering for me? Hunter glances over at me like he’s trying to get a read on me. I realize then that my mouth is hung open slightly in disbelief.

“Is that okay with you?” Hunter asks me. Sam scoffs.

“Uh yes, yes, that’s fine.” I gain my composure and continue. “I’ll just also have a glass of water with no lemon, please. Thank you.” And with that, he turns and walks away. I don’t say anything. I just stare at Sam. He’s still gazing at his menu, brow furrowed a bit like he's mulling through his choices and can’t figure out what sounds good.

“19 crimes.” I chime. “Sounds devious. Did you commit all 19 by yourself? Or are you trying to drag me with you now?”

He laughs. “You know you have to look at the menu in order to find something to eat, Willa.” The sound of my name on his tongue is jarring. Again, he’s not looking at me. I take his advice hastily grabbing my menu, peering at him over the top. There’s a smirk on his face. What is his deal?

Hunter appears with our wine and my water with a lemon. Not wanting to create a fuss over a lemon I can very easily remove, I just say thank you when he sets it down on the oakwood table.

“She asked for water without a lemon,” Sam’s face is serious; I sit there, horrified at the inconvenience to the waiter.

“Oh, it's fine, really. Don’t-” he cuts my protest short, and I fidget, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“You asked for water with no lemon, Willa. This isn’t what you asked for.” Hunter takes the glass from his hand. When he turns and heads toward the kitchen, I whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sam. It’s not a big deal. Plus, that was kind of rude.”

“It’s not rude to expect to get what you asked for. You wanted water with no lemon, so you’ll get water with no lemon.” He says with finality. Why is that… attractive? I think he mistakes my stare as distaste for his commentary and quickly follows it up with, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to tip him well.” He shrugs a little.

I exhale heavily through my nose and change the subject, “What are you gonna get to eat?”

“The Gnocchi alla Sorrentini. What about you?”

“I was thinking of the Saffron Risotto aux Champignons. Have you tried it?” My mind drifts back to how many times he’s probably been to the other location and with whom. Wondering how many of these dishes he’s tried or if the menu is different there. How many glasses of wine he’s had or shared.

“I have. It’s my favorite dish here. It’s very good,” When he flashes me a small, slightly lopsided smile, my heart squeezes in my chest. “I think you’ll like it.”

We place our orders when Hunter comes back with my corrected water. He doesn’t make eye contact with Sam, but Sam looks directly at him when he tells him what he wants. There’s an obvious confidence about him that I like and something under the surface that feels almost like a challenge. Daring Hunter to look at him to know he has the upper hand on.. what, I can't figure out. Is this just some weird macho alpha male thing? I feel like one of them might start peeing on the floor to mark their territory in a minute.

I tell Hunter my order and then switch my gaze to the window. Something I’ve always loved about Maine is the water. Across the street, back behind the sidewalk, is a relatively short dock. You can walk down it and see some of the boats lined up. There aren’t many since the area is narrow, but you can see out toward the river. Sometimes, you can see people in smaller fast boats; other times, it's the larger fishing boats. I once took a walk down that dock with an out-of-town friend of mine, and there was a lone man on his fishing boat throwing some lobsters back into the river. He offered to let us hold one for a photo which absolutely tickled my friend pink.

Hunter brings our food out and disappears without any other commentary. I’m not sure I could handle another moment of ‘big men puff out chest be intimidating’ behavior. I take a bite of the risotto, which tastes as good as it looks. God, I’m going to have to take Quinn here. They'd absolutely love it.

My thoughts are interrupted when a bird perched on the ledge just at the edge of the window catches my eye. And suddenly..

“Sam.” My eyes were fixated on the bird. He hums. “Do you .. hike?” Unsure if he’s an outdoorsy kind of guy, given how well he dresses himself.

“Yeah, all the time, why?”

“Maine is the pine tree state.” He sends me another mhm, not fully following my thought, “You know what one of my favorite things to shoot on hikes is?” I point toward the bird in the window, not giving him a chance to respond.

“Nature. Literally, Maine is full of it. Like Acadia National Park? ‘Bah habah’” I say, mocking the more northern pronunciation of Bar Harbor.

Finally, he reaches me at the mental finish line, “Nature! Birds, Trees, Parks, Woods.. No, you’re right? That’s what makes Maine, Maine.”

“Okay, but also beyond this little bird in the window, there’s the dock. Maine is incredibly coastal, lobsters and allathat. We could do both. Like the duality of the State. Woods and Water.”

“Woods and water.” He repeats, taking a bite of his gnocchi. “Actually, you know what else could be a good idea? Old and New.”

“Old and new? What do you mean?”

“Digital and Print. I have a bunch of old film cameras. I kind of collect them,” a slight rosy tint covers his cheeks. “We could take an assortment of both digital and film photos and present both to the editors.”

“Sam, that's brilliant!” It takes us approximately three seconds to realize in my excitement, I’ve grabbed his hand that was laid on the table. We both pull away at the same time.

He clears his throat, “If you wanted, when we’re done, we could drive to my apartment, and we can take a look at the cameras I have and then figure out a plan.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” my meal suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to look at.

After a small bit of silence, Hunter comes back with our checks. Yep, checks. Plural. Sam noticeably shifts in his seat. He is apparently incredibly put off by this, and he bites out, “Just one check will do, Heath.”

“It’s Hunter.” He corrects, unamused, as he grabs the checks.

“Sure.” is all Sam says.

I laugh. I giggle, actually. Profusely. The situation at hand is far too entertaining to hold it in any longer.

“What?” Sam grills me.

“Heath! You know his name is Hunter.” I try to cover my giggle with my hand.

“I do, but I had to knock him down a peg. Assuming that I’d make you pay for your food?” he scoffs.

“I am not breaking up a fight, so reel it in, buddy.” I shake my head.

Hunter arrives with a corrected, singular check, sending us off with a ‘have a very pleasant day.’ Probably trying to play up a last-ditch effort of hospitality to ensure a decent tip still. Sam’s brow furrows as he looks over the check, he sets it down and runs his hand through his hair. No man should have hair that beautiful. My hair isn't even that beautiful. He starts to furiously pat himself down.

“I.. think I left my wallet in the office.” Oh great. Wonderful. Annoys me all morning, cons me into driving, and now I have to pay.

He winks at me, “Just kidding.” Tucking a few bills into the check holder and standing. What’s with everyone winking at me?

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, grab my jacket, and slide out of the booth. As I stand, my foot catches on the leg of the table, and I slip. Sam rushes over to steady me upright back on my feet.

“Wow, you really are a cheap date, huh?” he jests. I try not to think about that too hard. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. My foot got caught, okay? I am not drunk. It was one glass.”

“Sounds like something a drunk person would say.” His laugh is infectious, and I hate it. It's very hard to stay annoyed at someone who laughs like they’re high on edibles all the time. But not in a Beavis and Butthead kind of way, in a carefree kind of way.

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The drive to Sam’s apartment is short; he lives closer than he made it seem which makes it easy. What is not easy, however, is the fact that there's off-street parking. I end up parking my Silver Honda CRV down the road a little by a very creepy looking ally, and we make the short walk back to his apartment. He lives on the second floor, so we at least avoid being locked in an elevator again and just take the stairs.

“Soo, I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t expect it to be too clean. And I should also warn you…”

“Warn me about what,” I say nervously. He opens the door in lieu of a response, and one of the largest dogs I’ve ever seen comes skidding across the floor. The dog jumps on Sam as he gently coos, “Woah down girl, down.” He scratches her behind the ears and continues his adoration. “How’s my girl today, huh? Did you miss me? Daddy missed you so much while he was gone.” Oh.

I step into the apartment and close the door behind me, coming into her view. She switches gears and suddenly jumps at me with full force. Given her size, and me being the least graceful person on the planet. I almost fall on my ass.

“Op,” I blow a puff of air toward my nose, trying to get some of her hair out of the way. When I steady myself on two solid feet, thank you very much, I ask, “And what’s your name, pretty girl? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. It’s Penelope, by the way.” Sam replies. “Or Duchess, or Penny, Penny girl. Whichever you prefer.”

“Penelope is a pretty name. You hear that? Pretty name for a pretty girl huh?” I coo in a slight baby voice. She is a gorgeous dog even if she is large. Her coat is incredibly soft. It's covered in black and brown with white all down her belly and just a bit on her nose.

“You know you can come in, right? You don’t have to stand by the door?” He waves me in.

“Uhm, actually. I have to use the bathroom, do you mind?” I hate this part. The awkward, I don't know you that well, and now we're talking about bodily functions, part of getting to know someone.

“Yeah, but it's actually through my bedroom.” He points to the doorway behind me. “First door is my closet, the second door is the bathroom.”

I walk through the doorway and take in my surroundings. Sam’s room is different than I expected and somehow exactly like I expected it to be. Not that I’ve pictured it, because I definitely have not. He has a king-sized bed with boring gray sheets. Typical. His deep wood nightstand sits just below one of 2 windows in his room, both without curtains. It’s pretty bare just an alarm clock, a lamp, and a charging pad for his phone. He has a few small plants in the window, which I should have expected given there’s a handful of plants in his kitchen. The walls are bare, apart from the few prints above his bed that’s sat on a frame with no headboard. I wonder if they’re his photos? He has a dresser that matches his nightstand and a TV on top with a gaming console. A very standard boy room apart from the few totes of his film strips that hang around. I suddenly realize I’ve been lingering too long in a space that isn’t mine, and I make my way to the bathroom, but not before I accidentally open his closet. Wow, he has a lot of clothes? I start to finger my way through the various fabrics. A man with a sense of style, so uncommon for this area. I close the closet door and choose the right door this time.

I rinse my hands under the warm faucet, letting my eyes close, and the water start to warm me. This is going to be fine. I look at myself in the mirror. It's going to be fine. The project will be fine. You and Sam will get along… eventually. You’ll get the job and you’ll never have to talk to him again. It’ll be fine. If I say the words enough, maybe I’ll start to believe them. I dry my hands off and exit the bathroom with a silent wish that I took less time than it feels like I did.

I pop my head back into the kitchen area where I first walked in, but I don’t see him.. Or Penelope. I take small, cautious steps toward what I assume is the living room. Just as I’m about to enter, I run full-bodied into Sam, causing my forehead to bounce right off his collarbone. A mixture of frustrated sounds escapes the two of us before he plants both his large hands on my shoulders and steps an arm’s length away from me. I rub at the pain between my eyes. Ouch.

“I thought you got lost for a minute.”

“No I just.. Didn’t know where you were. I wasn’t trying to invade your space.”

“Little late for that, isn’t it,” he gestures a hand between us, referring to our closeness. “Plus, there are only so many rooms, Willa. You would have found me eventually.” I hate it when he says my name. He turns and walks farther into the room calling after me, “You comin?”

I enter the room and it’s actually fairly large for it being in the city. Good, decent-sized apartments are hard to find here. There’s a half-brick wall behind the orange couch. The large windows set above it let in a ton of light but somehow don’t reflect off the TV screen sitting opposite it. He has records stored in a few different places and an old-style record player. A Fender Bass guitar and a small amp sit in the corner. I didn't know he could play an instrument. A small standing desk in the corner where his laptop sits among various other papers and notebooks. And to the left, there's a beautiful wall of shelves set up with a handful of film cameras. All old, each serving a unique purpose. It’s heaven for a person like me. I don't know why I've never thought to collect film cameras before.

“Wow.” It comes out of my mouth barely above a whisper.

“I know. It's my favorite part of my house.” He’s proud. And he should be. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, studying my reaction.

“Where did you get them all?” I question, reaching to touch one before I pull my hand back. It would be rude to just touch something so delicate and important, but the desire in me is burning.

“Flea markets and vintage shops. Ebay. I even bought one off Etsy, oddly enough.”

The anticipation is killing me, and I start to shift anxiously on my feet. I feel like a child at a candy store waiting for permission to let loose and stock my bag full. I’m sure from the outside I look like a child at a candy store, but I don’t care. If Sam didn’t annoy me so much, I might try to con my way into being friends with him just so I can test each one out. Every old camera has its own quirks it has developed over the years. Like it curated its own personality, stealing bits from each person that has held it. It’s a fun experience to learn a camera.

“Go ahead.” he stifles his chuckle.

I run my fingers over the few cameras on the bottom shelf. He has a few different cameras from a few different decades, definitely older than both of us combined. I settle on a ‘1981 vintage Kiev camera Jupiter’; it doesn't shoot in 35mm like most standard film cameras. It shoots in 8m, creating a wider shot, not quite like today's panorama views.

“I love that one. She creates these really beautiful wide shots. You gotta make sure you press quick and hard, though, or you won’t actually capture the photo.” He steps behind me and places his hand on mine, tilting the camera upwards before pointing at the button he’s referencing. His hands are so warm. When I inhale to disrupt my own thoughts, my back touches his chest. His chest is warm, too. Oh God. It's too warm in here. I step forward and turn around, facing him again.

“She’s beautiful. I think I’ll go with this one. Thank you, Sam.” I dare to look at his coffee-colored eyes. “I know lending out something this special is a big deal. So thank you.”

“Just be careful. Josephine was a hard find." He grabs the camera from my hand and walks over to the couch where his camera bag is, slipping it inside.

“Josephine?” I question, “Do you.. name all your cameras?”

“Don’t judge me, okay. You’re telling me you don’t name yours? What about your car huh?” Oh, he’s got me there.

“I.. have named every car I’ve ever had.” I raise my hands in defeat and bow my head in amusement.

“Alright then. Take your judgy pants off and leave 'em at home.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to grab one?” avoiding the previous comment entirely.

“Nah, I always have my Olympus on me. I shoot on film any chance I can get.” He picks up his bag and slides it back on his shoulder.

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Back in my car and buckling our seat belts, he says, “So I was thinking about the woods and water idea, and maybe we can shoot in town to save time and then, uhm, tomorrow.. uhh, if you’re free, we could do the woods stuff.” He seems nervous, and I can’t quite place my finger on why. I agree, placing my car in reverse and backing onto the main road.

“I know of a nice place we can go… For tomorrow, I mean.”

“Should I be concerned you’re going to murder me in the woods?”

“I would never do that.”

“Sounds like something a murderer would say to a potential victim.” I side-eye him before returning my gaze to the road. “Don’t try anything, I most definitely will be bringing pepper spray tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on sabbatical. Even serial killers need a break.” He flashes me a cocky smile and winks at me once again. The next person who winks at me is going to end up with their eyeball on a skewer. I SWEAR.

“Okay, now we're taking separate cars. That is, if you can even make it.”

“How dare you talk about Edith like that.” Raising his eyebrows in offense. “She is a gem and has been through a lot. She just needs TLC is all.”

“Edith? Josephine? What is this, the 1940s?”

“Hey! Edith and Josephine are great names. They’re vintage– my truck is older than I am, so it makes sense.” He shrugs. “What’s your car's name, huh?”

“Jon Bon Silver Fox.” I try not to smile at the ridiculousness of it, but it’s sentimental, sort of. And it makes me laugh.

“Jon Bon… Silver Fox..” repeating my words slowly. “Like Jon Bon Jovi?”

“Like Jon Bon Jovi. My mom loved him when I was growing up so she always had his music playing, I grew up loving him too. Nowadays he's a silver fox, my car is silver, therefore: Jon Bon Silver Fox.”

“You would like mom-rock,” we both laugh, and I send him a small eye-roll to follow.

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After finding another off-street parking spot, god, I hate Portland. We have a small huddle before deciding to split up and see what we can find. Our version of splitting up is just heading the same way down the road and shooting on opposite sides of the sidewalk, but it works.

As annoying as the parking situation is in this city, it's absolutely beautiful here. Every building is made up of tattered red bricks because everything in this city is old. Old, but beautiful. There’s a history here, every spot has a story. Every small restaurant is owned by someone's grandfather or great-grandfather and passed down through generations. Sidewalks with initials carved into them, we even have our own version of the ‘love locks’.

The evening breathes a different light, though. It’s painted with character right down to the cobblestone streets the drunk girls wobble down during the summer nights. The “cobble wobble” will never not be funny to me, especially since I’ve been that girl a time or two.

I spot a Song Sparrow; at least I think that’s the correct bird. It's a small little thing with a tan body and dark brown spots, and it's absolutely beautiful. I crouch down, trying to make myself small so he doesn’t get scared and fly away. Aiming for a shot on the vintage camera I’ve borrowed from Sam, I realize the view is far too wide for what I need.

“Sam!” I whisper-shout, looking around for him. When I don’t see him I call his name again a little louder. He pops his head up from behind a bush and I frantically wave him over pressing a finger to my lips to quiet him. He kneels down behind me.

“I need this,” I say, grabbing his camera, still attached to his neck by his camera strap. He leans into me further as I pull the viewfinder close to my eye. I adjust the settings as quickly as I can so I don’t miss it.

He's far too close to my ear when he whispers to me, “I can take it off, you know?” A shiver runs down my back from the heat of his breath. Focus, Willa.

“There’s no time. I don’t want him to fly away,” I click a couple times, and he shifts on his feet, crinkling whatever wrapper is trapped between his shoe and the pavement.

“Shhhh,” I reach my hand across my body and grab his face blindly, my eye still glued to the camera. “Don't. Move.” I release him. One more click, and I’m certain I’ve got a good shot.

“Did you get it?” He whispers in my ear again. I turn to face him, and he is so close to me. I follow his eyes as they meet mine and drop down to my lips. Oh, no.

I clear my throat, “Yeah, I think I did. Uhm,” I squeeze my lids shut and pause, trying to center myself. We both rush to stand at the same time. In the flurry of limbs, I seem to trip over my own foot, losing my balance completely. Sam lunges toward me but isn’t quick enough. I have no idea how I am the least graceful person alive. I grab the antique camera around my neck and on my way to the ground and try my best to hold it in the air. My ass takes all the damage in the fall but the camera remains perfectly intact. I breathe a sigh of relief, if Josephine was hard to find once, she'd be hard to find twice.

“Jesus christ, Willa,” he hurries to my side. His next words don’t match the concern on his face. “You have to be more careful. You could have broken something!” He scolds me. His camera? That’s what he's worried about? I look down at the palm on my left hand, it's scuffed and bleeding slightly. Small rocks embedded in my skin. My ass is definitely going to have a bruise.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. Your camera is fine,” I roll my eyes and brush myself off before standing. I hiss as my hand starts to throb. “Ah fuck” I mutter under my breath, waving my hand, trying to shake off the pain.

“No..” a prolonged deep sigh escapes his lips. “Never mind, just be more careful,” reiterating his initial point.

“Yeah, Got it.” I snap. Annoyance settles through me to my core once again. A constant state of being when I’m around him. Does he really think I’d be the type of person to let his shit break? “No, you know what. You always have some slick comments to say. Like you might just spontaneously combust if the world doesn’t hear your shitty commentary. Why are you always a jerk?”

“Telling you to be careful, is me being a jerk?” He defends.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to your camera, Sam. So, please, can you not think I’m an idiot for five seconds?” I huff out.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot? I think you’re a klutz and definitely way too cranky for your own good, but I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.” Sounding slightly confused. For the love of god, why is he confused?

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can we go? I got what I needed, and I definitely don’t want to look at you anymore.” I start to head back toward my car.

“I hope it gives you hell when you do, Birdie.” he follows in my footsteps. Birdie? What the hell is that?

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I somehow have found myself back at the Caravel Tavern. I say somehow but what I really mean is Quinn forced me, and I really can never say no to them. They know that and pull the ‘I’m your best friend’ card constantly. They’re lucky I love them so much.

“I cannot believe you made me come back here.” I shrink in my seat, trying to appear as small as possible. We’re sitting toward the back but not entirely in the corner. I face the door so I can see most of the bar to try and prevent someone from sneaking up on me. A thing that I learned does not actually work when it comes to this place.

“Please, you act like I'm not at all nosy and don’t want to see the face of the man who keeps you lying awake at night.” Quinn teases.

“I do not lie awake at night. He just annoys me every waking moment of every waking day that I have to interact with him. Did I tell you he wore glasses today? It’s bad enough that he knows how to dress himself, but then to wear glasses? It made his face extra punchable.”

“Babes, that’s called cuteness aggression.”

“No, Absolutely not. He’s annoying, not cute. He also started calling me Birdie today. No idea why. Birdie??” In the middle of my defense, I notice Quinn’s eyes go wide and then the bartender I haven’t met yet appears from behind me, effectively scaring me. What is it with this place?

“Welcome, Welcome!” he says, as cheerful as if sunshine itself had manifested in our presence.

“Is it written in the manual as a requirement that you sneak up behind your guests and scare them?” I inquire.

“Ahh yes, actually. It's in the section of the manual right next to ‘How to deal with cheeky customers’,” He throws me an equally cheeky side eye and a smile.

“Ya know, I like you. At least one of you can grow a mustache around here.”

“I’m not Employee of the Month for nothing. Be on the lookout for a framed photo of yours truly on the wall over there.” He makes a small gesture toward the bathrooms.

“So what, can I get you started with today?” At least one person who works here is funny. He’s charming in a way that Sam wishes he was. Effortlessly so. He’s not cocky or arrogant, he’s just funny and warm. Warm in a way that if all the people of the world were like that, it would be a better place. He takes our orders, making us laugh through the whole interaction, which is a nice change of pace from the last few days. He pauses a moment before he leaves and his gaze lingers on Quinn a bit. Interesting.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, Q,” I whisper to them like a gossiping old bitty.

“He’s related to the owner.” They tell me, whispering back.

“Jesus Christ, there’s three of them?”

“Three of them?”

“Yeah, the one who can’t grow a mustache owns the bar, and Sam is his brother. If this one is related to the owner too, then they’re all brothers.” I pause.

“Wait, how do you know he’s related to the owner?” I look over toward the bar and accidentally make eye contact with Sam. “Oh god.” I whisper, “That’s him. Quinn, don’t look, he's coming over here.”

“What happened to not wanting to look at me? Change your mind and come to gaze at my devilish handsomeness?” Sam exudes cockiness from every orifice. What a tool.

“Devilish, yes. Handsome, debatable. I came for a drink. Had to unwind after dealing with the world's worst coworker today.” I flutter my eyelashes and throw him a sarcastic smile.

“Yeah, that Susan is an uptight bitch, huh?” He takes notice of Quinn, looking them up and down in their striped, earth-toned sweater and mocha-colored overalls. Their hair in their signature pixie cut curls.

“And who is this?” He asks while maintaining his gaze on Quinn.

“Uh, Sam, this is my roommate, Quinn. Quinn, this is my project partner, Sam.” He reaches out to shake their hand, which they return apprehensively.

“Birdie, you didn’t tell me your roommate was hot.” I would pay money to have had someone record this interaction because Quinn’s face is priceless. Maybe now they understand the hell I go through.

The third brother appears from out behind Sam, then in the sneaky way they all seem to have perfected.

“OKAY.” He says loudly, clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you have some shit to take care of? Like your job.” Sam starts to try, and pull his shoulder away. By the grimace he’s making, he has a tight grip on his brother. Sam breaks free and rubs at his shoulder.

“Ow, Josh,” He says, not low enough to escape my ears. What a baby. I wonder if he’ll complain about that, too. Probably.

“So, sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much. He acts a bit rabid when he sees real people.” Josh pads off to return to his other duties.

“Do you see what I mean? He’s intolerable.”

“Absolutely, completely intolerable.”

“Thank you.”

“No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” They say a bit too loud for my taste. “Shhhhh. I never said that!” I look around frantically to see if any of the brothers are within earshot and regretfully notice a smirk on Sam’s lips. Curse Quinn and their antics.

<- Chapter Three Chapter Five

Masterpost | Taglist

Taglist 💜 :

(I don't know what happened last week with the tags I double checked this week 😅)

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me@literal-dead-leaf, @lizzys-sunflower @threadofstars @mackalah @klarxtr @ourlovesdesire, @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @ladywhimsymoon @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf, @violet-hayes @anythingforjtk

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some-triangles · 5 months

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2023 IN REVIEW

So, the most important thing that happened this year is I got married. My wife likes to dress me up in extravagant outfits and draw me little cartoons. I am more content as a human being than I ever have been.

This doesn't mean my brain problems have gone away. If anything, the good stuff I have now has thrown the bad stuff into sharper relief, internally and externally. It's harder to ignore depression and anxiety when you're not by yourself. When the people around you aren't actively contributing to your agita and there are no more ambitions you got which remain unfulfilled (apart from the silly ones like being so rich you never have to work again) it kind of highlights how, y'know, the call is coming from inside the house, where the house is my body, and the gremlin living in the attic is my brain.

I am feeling less and less apt to tolerate bullshit. Maybe less willing, maybe less capable. This has unfortunately coincided with a significant uptick in bullshit in the outside world, as we continue our transition to an overtly scam-based economy and our sensible centrist president continues to fund genocide overseas. There don't seem to be any good guys left. I find myself unable to shrug and say that it is what it is with quite the same nonchalance as before. Maybe it's a product of getting old.

Oldness may also contribute to the fact that I no longer seem to be interested in listening to new music. My track of the year is 4Lung's "Sarab&e", which is a cancelled furry rapping anemically over a Satie sample - you gotta really kick me in the shins to get my attention these days. On the other side I find myself listening to a lot of jazz on the radio. Did you know Orville Johnson (that's right, of https://orvillejohnson.com/ ) put out a dobro-led cover of Gravy Waltz? And it's pay what you want on Bandcamp? Maybe there are some good guys.

In sum I don't care what band that sounds like one band but also another band came out with their music album anymore. Boards of Canada already solved music and that's fine.

Comics are still good. Gray Folie's "Idletry" continues to be completely fascinating. There seems to be an endless supply of good artists on Tumblr just making stuff and putting it out there for me to look at. Thank you to all of them. Also I hear a new zine from my favorite might be dropping soon - stay tuned for more on that.

All I read is contemporary SF for the podcast and that's also fine. Most of it. Apparently the new thing is books about raising autistic children or being raised by autistic parents or both, and that certainly works for me. My favorite book of the year is not about that, though, and instead asks what if the founder of the Ming dynasty was actually an ace AFAB transmasc with ADHD. It manages to achieve grand tragedy with this concept, particularly if you ignore the ending. (Also you have to read the first book first or it won't make any sense.)

My goal for the new year is that I manage to get the energy together to find a therapist or change my meds up or whatever. Things are good but they could be better, might as well try. I would also kind of like to move back to the east coast but we'll see. Maybe get a cat.

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asteralien · 2 months

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things about adventures in odyssey album 10 episode 12 "the homecoming" that got to me this 100000th listen:

when whit brings up richard to tom the first time, tom says "i know you had your big adventure in chicago and now you're pals" in the tone of voice that you use for stories that you've already heard 20 times and i am so enchanted by the idea that whit got dropped into a sewer, bonked on the head, then held at gunpoint, and came home, on all levels but physical, wearing a "richard maxwell fanclub founder" shirt. and would not shut up about it. enchanted

pretty gay to say "unfortunately he's a very hard person to forget". someone's been up until 3 am staring at the ceiling going >:( because he can't get richard maxwell out of his head. lmao

the sound design in the lucy & richard apology scene is sooooo good ugh...... like near the end, when lucy starts to cry, that loud concrete scrape sound paints a WHOLE picture (richard reached out to touch her, she physically stepped back, it makes you imagine other details: her hugging herself or swiping his hand away, maybe he jerks back when her voice raises) it's just a good scene and it makes me so so sad

i love that whit actually gets angry with tom in the tom apology scene. whit doesn't really get angry that much and it says a lot to me that this is one of the places where he's so audibly frustrated. i wish i wish i WISH whit could have been in dbd, overall it's probably better that he wasn't but i miss his dynamic with richard SO bad

on that note, they're both so snarky at each other in their first scene. "i guess you got my note" "well i'm not here for the view" okay old man!! i heard you laughing yourself silly over exploding priceless government property with your new pet sewer gremlin!!!

lucy says her parents thought it was a good idea for her to see richard....... now. i love richard. i've made him a significant portion of my personality and creative life. however. if i had a [???]-year-old daughter who had gotten involved with a college-age career computer criminal, not only been used by him but also essentially blown up to the point of hospitalization, i am. well. not so sure that i would want her to speak to him. especially not without at least me or my spouse present.

#aio #richard maxwell #adventures in odyssey #sometimes i think about how this was literally my first odyssey episode i ever listened to.#me at age 12 listening to an unknown teen arsonist's utterly contextless humiliation tour: this better not awaken anything in me #aster chat

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sarah-yyy · 2 years

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What is clj and why are we watching it? (I ask even though I still haven't finished lltg😅)

ALRIGHT it's been awhile since the last proper rec post (and yes yes yes buddies i know i am late to the show i'm SORRY) so bear with me while i try to contain my yelling about cang lan jue (or, love between fairy and devil, which......as my sister put it, is about as low an english title as it can get 😂)

what: period cdrama // 36 eps, roughly 45 mins each where: netflix // iqiyi why: do you enjoy the soft sunshine gremlin/broody fight fight fight demon dynamic? this is the show for you 🥰

a brief overview!!!

this is my son dong fang qing cang, or, daqiang (affectionate), Moon Supreme™, mightiest in the three realms, who was unfortunately defeated in battle 30000 years ago and imprisoned for ~reasons

this sweet child xiao lanhua (lit. little orchid) is a low level immortal orchid spirit (fairy is ehhh, she's not exactly a 仙 but ehhh translations hmm) who accidentally (!!!) Frees The Monster™ from his prison while attempting to save this other boy she has been having a crush on

(the whole thing involves kissing - this is literally the first episode)

(this is not the only kissing we will get, dw)

the process triggers a spell and they??? switch bodies when they kiss??? which is hilarious because we get fun scenes with xiao lanhua in dfqc's body like

and

ANYWAY this is not the only side effect of their first encounter!! dfqc soon realises that he has been Cursed™ to a) feel any pain inflicted upon xiao lanhua physically, and b) share xiao lanhua's emotions!

him!!! an almighty being who has not felt one (1) single feeling since he had them literally ripped from his being (not by choice 😭) since he was a child!!! suddenly he's crying?? and feeling fear??? and getting hurt??? this is Not Okay!! he is the mightiest in all the realms!!! this is a weakness that he must rid himself off!!!

before he can figure out how to do this, the most prudent thing to do appears to be to have to protect xiao lanhua from all harm, and uh, doing whatever he can to ensure her emotional wellbeing and happiness??? dfcq goes from broody unfeeling demon lord to number one xiao lanhua stan (begrudgingly) the longer he stays around her

he literally went batshit to protect her and it was Amazing to watch!! god of war whomst??? can't hear you over me beating your ass to protect my girl

but it's not just that!! he's also going around reading through ancient scrolls to figure out how to best make an orchid plant grow/blossom well, and just. collecting dew water for her! making her (terrible) food!! taking to see the sunrise because it's good for her! daqiang contains multitudes!!!!

the entire time, because dfqc never really bothered with any explanation beyond "you belong to me", xiao lanhua is thinking: fuck, i accidentally freed a guy from prison and now he's in love with me?????

it's hilarious

ANYWAY that's the setup of the show!! obviously, there are some plotty things going on, and ofc it wouldn't be a good xianxia if they did not have go to the mortal realm to 渡劫 (i'm on this arc now and it's so funny too, i love it)! i'm only two thirds of the way through the show because tragically work is a thing that i have to do, but i have heard that there is Sads™ towards the end (although i'm told it ends well) and i'm looking forward to it!!

i personally am really enjoying this! things move along quickly in this show, and because they're pretty basic plotlines it doesn't take a lot of focus to watch! the sets/costumes are gorgeous, and dylan and esther are surprisingly good in this!! i've always been pretty meh about dylan outside of cvariety until now, but there have been scenes in this where he just blew me over. the pacing of the relationship is good as well, like i'm 2/3 of the way through and they haven't gotten together yet, but they're obviously fond of each other and slowly tipping across the line and it's just SO CUTE TO WATCH

please watch this so we can all suffer together, 11/10 would rec

#cang lan jue #clj #tv rec #cdrama #long post for ts #usual disclaimer: i don't watch cdramas with eng subs so idk the quality of the subs VENTURE IN AT YOUR OWN RISK

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mysteriouslover1516 · 1 year

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IMAGINE:

I need your help

The young mechanic's breath quickened as his lock screen showed a text from MC, help with what? Was she starting to suspect him?

Uhm, you do remember that we have a paying customer in here?

Technically he wasn't lying, but maybe if he delayed the conversation she would forget? Highly unlikely.

Yes, I know

Richy sighed, might as well get this over. She wasn't gonna let up.

He is actually in the restroom right now, so if you hurry up...

Thanks Richy

A small smile tugged on his lips, as always sweet and polite. Ugh.

Can you think of anything to tell me about a "Jennifer" from Duskwood?

The phone nearly slipped from his hands as he read the text, how did MC know about Jennifer? And why was she asking HIM? Did she know his connection to the case? Oh god, this could be potentially bad and very catastrophic.

Quite a few things

I think I know three people with the name Jennifer in Duskwood.

He was bluffing, of course he was bluffing. He could feel the sweat on his hands starting to accumulate, how did she know about Jennifer???

It has something to do with the Duskwood Forest

Richy tugged on his hair, he knew EXACTLY what MC was talking about. And he was horrified, terrified, completely PETRIFIED.

You couldn't be talking about the girl that was found dead in the forest back then

Taking a deep breath, he reread the text he sent, honestly it sounded pretty calm, he hoped MC wouldn't be able to see through it.

To be honest I don't know yet

Okay, so MC didn't know everything about the circumstances involving Jennifer. This wasn't so bad after all, maybe....

I totally forgot about that. The whole town of Duskwood was up in arms at that time, as I am sure you can imagine.

He shook his head as if it would rid the awful memories from his consciousness, the guilt, the pain, it was inescapable.

What else can you think of?

As far as I know the killer was never found. They soon came to the conclusion that he wasn't from here and it didn't take long until Duskwood returned back to a state of normalcy.

Killer. He wasn't a killer, and neither was Hannah or......Amy. He hesitated as his inner demons waged war inside him, was he a killer though? Did he ultimately kill Amy by bringing her to the brink of suicide? He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought to release him from its torment.

Was there anything that indicated where the killer was from?

No, there was nothing. The three teenagers had buried the only form of evidence, the body. Richy had stolen the paper on the AMC Gremlin all those years ago, made it disappear. There was Nothing.

Well, I guess I don't know that much about the old case after all

What a piece of bull crap. He knew everything about Jennifer's death, as much as he wished he didn't. He wasn't innocent, the invisible blood on his hands still tormented him. Jennifer was dead.

But you know how people are. There are nicer things to think about than the thought of living next door to a murderer. And Jennifer wasn't from Duskwood either. So this makes the theory even more plausible.

Richy paused, the beginning question once again entering his mind. Why was she asking about the incident? About Jennifer?

But you don't think that Hannah has something to do with what happened back then, do you?

Unfortunately I do

He swallowed hard, if MC made the connection between Hannah and Jennifer, she would ultimately discover Amy's involvement, which would place him closer and closer to the burning flames.

Well I hope not.

"I wish not, I wish she didn't. I wish none of us did." He whispered underneath his breath, fist suddenly colliding with his desk. He didn't ask for this, why was this happening to him?

That happened at least ten years ago. Mmh, I think that's it. I don't know anything else.

I don't know anything else, that was one of the most bogus statements he had ever made in his whole life. He knew a lot about the incident, he knew too much. He wished it could have been different.

That was actually more information than I expected.

Chewing on his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Wait a minute.

Talk to you later.

Hold on real quick, why did you ask me that?

Was MC asking him this because she already suspected him? Or was she asking him this because of her subtle but at the same time obvious growing feelings for the mechanic?

Because I have a hunch that it might be getting me closer to Hannah

A small chuckle managed to escape his lips, was she messing with him? Or did she really not understand what he was getting at?

No, no, that's not what I meant. Why ME?

I like you

Richy's heart skipped a beat, she had finally said it. His mind raced, it was both a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time, what an oxymoron. MC had fallen for the culprit, for the man behind the mask. And he had messed up, by falling for her as well. Damn it.

I like you too, MC. A lot. Adios

He quickly logged off, needing time to think and reorganize his thoughts. The plan had to work, it was GOING to work, and then he would shoot his shot with MC, it would all work out.

#richy x mc #duskwood richy #richy duskwood #duskwood richy x mc #richy rogers #duskwood #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fandom #duskwood community #duskwood game #everbyte game #duskwood imagine #duskwood drabble #duskwood oneshot #mysteriouslover1615replayprogress

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celestiall0tus · 3 months

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Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 7 - Lady WiFi

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Alix headed out of the school towards home. She stepped onto the first step when she heard her name called out. She turned as Marinette came barreling towards her. She jumped out of the way as Marinette fell down the steps. She scoffed and looked down at Marinette.

“What ails you?” Alix demanded.

“Sorry! I just had some really exciting news to share with you.”

“Me? Why?”

Marinette jumped up and took Alix’s hands. “I won the derby hat contest! Adrien is going to wear my design!”

“Congrats, but you still haven’t shared why I should care.”

“Well, because you’re my friend.”

Alix laughed. “You’re joking, right? What have I done that would even remotely make you consider me as a friend?”

“C’mon, Alix, you helped me against Chloe and even helped me with Adrien. How could I not see you as my friend?”

“Two acts are not enough to make up for the years I’ve been awful to, well, not just you but everyone. The very last thing you should call me is your friend.”

“Well, you are, starting today. You’re friends with all of us. Isn’t that right?”

Alix opened her mouth when she felt a pair of hands grab each of her arms. She looked to see Rose and Juleka on each side of her. Mylene hopped into view with Alya.

“Woah, no. No, no, no. I’m not friends with any of you. None of you want to be friends with me.”

“I do!” Rose cheered.

“You want to be friends with everyone,” Alix retorted.

“I consider us friends,” Mylene commented.

“Why? We just sit at the same desk,” Alix pointed out.

“Well, you’re friends with Ivan, and I hear a lot of good things from him. So, even if we don’t talk, I feel like I’m just as good friends with you as Ivan is,” Mylene explained.

“Oh, for the love of… you’re just as crazy as Marinette. And what about you two?” Alix asked Juleka and Alya.

“I’m on the fence,” Alya admitted.

“You’re scary, and that’s cool,” Juleka whispered.

“You’re an absolute freak,” Alix said to Juleka.

Juleka smiled. “Thank you.”

Alix growled. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“Unfortunately, it would seem not. Are we done with this? I have a big scoop to share,” Alya remarked.

“What is it?” Marinette asked.

“Not here. Follow me.”

Alya lead the charge of girls to the Seine. Alix attempted to escape, but Juleka and Rose dragged her along. Alix’s eye twitched as she was seated on a bench with the others.

“Alright, girls, here’s the scoop. I know who Bloody Bug is,” Alya announced.

Alix scoffed. “Yeah right. Who is she?”

“Prepare yourselves, for the truth is mind blowing! Bloody Bug is none other than Chloe Bourgeois.”

Alix guffawed. “Are you fucking serious? Chloe? Bloody Bug? What makes you think the entitled brat is Bloody Bug?”

“I do have to agree with Alix. How could it be Chloe?” Mylene asked.

“Yeah. Chloe is a little, uh,” Rose started.

“Nightmare inducing monster,” Juleka finished.

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, I saw her hide a ladybug themed yo-yo in her bag. It’s proof!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Alix remarked.

“Oh yeah? And what reasons could you possibly think of that it isn’t Chloe?” Alya challenged.

Alix smirked and stood. “I think we’ve all seen your clips of Bloody Bug. One thing I can’t help but notice is Bloody Bug is a short, toned gremlin. Chloe is a tall ass twig. Oh, and not to mention, didn’t you see Chloe and Bloody Bug in the same place at Adrien’s party?”

Alya gulped as she looked around in thought. “And… just how would you know about Adrien’s party? You weren’t even there.”

“First off, Bubbler was collecting everyone for Adrien’s class. Second, Adrien is Chloe’s bestie and her mark, so why wouldn’t she be there in general?”

“But… the yo-yo!”

“You know, it could just be me, but hasn’t anyone else noticed the beginning of stupid little trinkets being rolled out based off the heroes? And I’m sure little moneybags would be able to get that crap with a snap of her fingers.”

Alya gritted her teeth and seethed. “Whatever! I’ll prove that I’m right and uncover Bloody Bug’s identity.”

“Yeah, sure. Good luck in that endeavor. Be sure to let me know how that fails.”

“Oh, I won’t fail, and you’ll be the first person to know. You can bet on that.”

“Right. Well, I’ve had my fun indulging your idiotic theories, Alya. I’m leaving.”

Alix left the girls and headed home, grateful that no one stopped her. She headed inside and up to her room. She placed her bag down as she grabbed a handful of tiny cookies for Tikki. She put them on the desk as Tikki joined her.

“You don’t think that Alya girl will figure out who Bloody Bug is, do you?”

“I personally doubt it. Alya’s all action and less of a thinker. She jumps at straws even if they really are just that. Not to mention stubborn as all hell. Made all the more evident with her latching onto the idea that Chloe is Bloody Bug. Though I do have to wonder why the hell Chloe would have a ladybug themed yo-yo.”

“Oh! What if she’s a fan?”

Alix laughed. “Please. Chloe, a fan of Bloody Bug? I’d bet you a box of the Dupain-Cheng pastries that she isn’t.”

“Wait, you would?”

Alix smirked. “Tikki, are you a betting kwami?”

“Well, no, but for sweets I am.”

“Then, how about it? If you win, I’ll splurge a little and get you some of the best pastries in all of Paris. If I win, you don’t lecture me about my behaviors for a month.”

Tikki hummed. “Well, alright. I’ll take that bet.”

“Wonderful. You ready to suit up then?”

“Uh, why?”

“It’s Alya. Not to mention I called her out in front of her precious little friends who likely see her as the smartest among their collectively shared braincell. She’s likely to be akumatized.”

“Well, do we have time for a snack?”

Alix huffed. “Fine. I’ll work on my homework in the meantime. Just don’t take too long.”

“What’s the magic word?”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Please don’t take too long.”

“There you go. And I won’t, but please don’t rush me.”

Alix sighed and sat at her desk. She pulled out her tablet and started on her assignments.

Adrien sat at the piano in his room. He diligently played it while Gabriel listened. He had long since zoned out and played on autopilot for what felt like an eternity by now. He absentmindedly looked out the window at the red, orange, and purple sky. In the mix of colors, he saw Bloody Bug running along the rooftops.

Adrien slipped up on a key. He flinched and looked at Gabriel, who held up a hand. He gave a silent prayer for the end.

“I’ve heard enough. I’ll be sure to increase your piano lessons. It’s clear your school is interfering with your piano now too,” Gabriel declared.

“Yes, Father.”

Adrien bowed his head. He waited until Gabriel was gone before he ran up to his window. He looked around to ensure the coast was clear before he transformed and ran out after Bloody Bug. He found her on a roof near Le Grand Paris, the hotel the mayor owned and where Chloe lived at.

“Evening, Mini Bug. What are we up to this lovely evening? Are we stalking our next victim?”

Bloody Bug grabbed Chat Noir’s bell and pulled him down, so they were eye-to-eye. “Don’t call me ‘Mini Bug.’ I hate it.”

“Ok, but why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Bloody Bug seethed. She opened her mouth to yell but shut it. She released Chat Noir and knelt near the roof’s edge.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“There’s likely to be an Akuma tonight, and Chloe will be the target of the Akuma’s victim.”

“How do you know?”

“I might have instigated it.”

“What? How could you do that?”

“Look, when you hear a lot of stupid crap all day, there’s only so much of it you can tolerate before you just break. Let’s just say that hearing someone think Chloe Bourgeois is Bloody Bug of all things sent me over the edge.”

“They thought you were Chloe? Uh, how? Why?”

“Oh, you want to know? It’s rather simple. All because Chloe had a ladybug yo-yo in her possession.”

“That’s it? But, how does that make Chloe you? Especially considering you two are so different in your appearance. You’re short with muscle to you while Chloe is model perfect.”

“Another one of my points. All of the city, or whoever watches that Ladyblog thing, would know by now how short I am.”

“Oh my. You watch the Ladyblog? Admiring your work, Bug?”

“The point of that blogger is to uncover my identity. I admire that level of determination, but if anyone will expose me, it’ll be myself.”

“But you won’t do that, will you? We’re supposed to keep those a secret.”

Bloody Bug considered and smiled. “Maybe so. However, if I listened to the rules, I wouldn’t do half the crap that I do anyway.”

“How… how do you do it? Break the rules and go against those that are your superiors?”

Bloody Bug sighed. She sat and took out her yo-yo. She fiddled with it for a moment before she answered. “Because in doing so, I honor my late mom’s memory and the person that she was in life. And… and being the person I know she wanted me to be.”

Chat Noir’s breath caught. He took a steadying breath as tears burned his eyes. “Your late mom? She’s gone?”

“Yeah. Quite a few years now. Or maybe it’s been longer. Some days it’s difficult to tell. Anyway, I’ve never been one to waste time on sweet nothings, it’s just not who I am. I prefer to honor through actions. So, this is my way of honoring her and showing the world my love for her.”

Chat Noir fell to his knees and hugged Bloody Bug.

“What the-? What are you-?” Bloody Bug started.

“She’d be so proud of you. I just know it,” Chat Noir whispered as his voice cracked.

“Cat? Are you ok?”

Chat Noir lifted his head to show the tears that poured from his eyes. Bloody Bug stared into his eyes as she saw an all too familiar pain. She pulled him into a hug without a second thought. He clung to her as he sobbed quietly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be like this. I’m so sorry,” Chat Noir whimpered.

“No, you should. Cat, you need to let yourself feel. You can’t bottle and shove things down. It’s the only way you’ll heal.”

“But I can’t show it. He won’t let me. Gets angry when I do.”

Anger and repulsion bloomed in Bloody Bug. “He’s wrong, whoever he is. You have to show. You have to feel. It hurts too much not to.”

“I-,” Chat Noir started.

“Well, well. So my hunch was correctomundo,” Alya’s voice boomed.

Bloody Bug and Chat Noir turned to see giant screens projected all across Paris. Alya was plastered on all of them in a black and white supervillain getup. She leaned against Chloe dressed in a Bloody Bug costume.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Bloody Bug yelled.

“What happened?”

“I just lost a bet. Now, let’s go deal with the blogger.”

Bloody Bug and Chat Noir jumped onto the balcony of Chloe’s room. They busted in as Alya removed Chloe’s mask. Alya froze as Bloody Bug approached.

“What? Impossible! I thought Chloe was Bloody Bug!” Ayla yelled.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, blogger girl. Maybe you should check the clear ass facts before you. Maybe then you wouldn’t need to jump to such wild conclusions,” Bloody Bug remarked.

“It’s Lady WiFi. Let’s find out who you really are, Bloody Bug!”

Lady WiFi canceled her live feed and the hold she had on Chloe. Chloe stumbled forward and collided with her bed. Chat Noir ran to check on her while Bloody Bug danced around Lady WiFi’s attacks.

“Would you hold still?” Lady WiFi howled.

Bloody Bug ignored Lady WiFi. She moved in closer to Lady WiFi, who flew out a flurry of attacks without aim or direction. She kicked out Lady WiFi’s legs and body slammed her. Lady WiFi screamed and aimed her phone at Bloody Bug, who tore it from Lady WiFi’s hands.

“Not today, bitch,” Bloody Bug hissed.

“No! Give that back!” Lady WiFi cried.

Bloody Bug raised a brow, then grinned. She slammed the phone into the ground, cracking the screen. Lady WiFi cried out as the Akuma flew from the phone. She sighed and caught the Akuma. She purified and released it as Lady WiFi reverted to Alya.

“What happened? Where am I?” Alya asked.

Chloe sneered and charged in but stopped when Bloody Bug held up a hand. Bloody Bug looked between the pair before she helped Alya up.

“You were turned into a villain. Any reason that may be?” Bloody Bug asked.

Alya looked away as she hugged herself. “I was called out by this punk of a girl when I claimed Chloe was Bloody Bug. I wanted to prove her wrong so badly and show her and my friends that I was right all along. But all I did was prove her right.”

Chloe scoffed. “You thought I was Bloody Bug? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

“But was it really worth becoming a villain?” Chat Noir asked.

Alya shook her head. “I’m ashamed of myself.”

“Look, I get wanting to prove you’re right all the time. It absolutely sucks to be wrong, especially in front of friends who you’re always right in front of. So, having a random chick come along and make an ass of you, it stings. Yeah, you’ll want some payback, but you need to ask yourself if it’s worth it. Sometimes you just need… to… pick your battles. Ah, fuck.”

“Bug?” Chat Noir asked.

Bloody Bug sighed and smiled at Alya. “Well, would you look at that? You and I aren’t so different, are we? Tell ya what, we’ll work on that together, yeah?”

Alya smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Alright, let’s head-,” Bloody Bug started.

“Wait!” Chloe called.

Bloody Bug raised a brow as Chloe approached with her phone.

“Can I get a picture with you, please?”

Bloody Bug blinked, then smiled. “Very well.”

Chloe’s face lit up. She bent over and snapped a selfie with Bloody Bug. She bounced happily as she showed it off. Bloody Bug smiled and patted her on the back.

Bloody Bug turned to Alya when her eye caught some paper. She considered and grabbed it. She looked around for a pen but didn’t see one immediately. She opened her mouth to ask for one when Chloe slid one into her hand. She gave Chloe a smile before she scribbled her number onto the paper and stuffed it into Chat Noir’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“For when you need to feel.”

Chat Noir raised a brow. He looked down at the scrap at Bloody Bug’s number. He clutched the paper, holding it close to his heart. A big, goofy smile spread as he cried. He scooped up Bloody Bug and hugged her.

“Cat! Let me go!”

“Thank you so much. You’re my bestest friend. The bestest ever!”

Bloody Bug struggled out of Chat Noir’s grip. She scurried over to Alya. “Alright, enough of that. I’m getting this young lady home. Cat, I’ll see you at the next attack. Chloe, I hope we meet again, but under better circumstances.”

Chloe nodded and waved Bloody Bug off as she left with Alya.

Adrien headed into school up to Nino. Nino waved as Adrien approached.

“What’s up, dude?”

“Not much.”

“Same here, my dude. Hey, questions, did you see that crazy broadcast by Al-… I mean, Lady WiFi?”

“Are you talking about her trying to expose Chloe as Bloody Bug?”

“Yeah, that one! Crazy, right? I mean, how could Chloe ever be Bloody Bug?”

“I wondered the same. Bloody Bug and Chloe don’t seem anything alike.”

“I know, right? Way too far a leap on her part.”

“Speaking of, where is Alya?”

Nino pointed to a nearby bench. Alya sat on it with Marinette while Juleka, Rose, and Mylene stood around them. Alix was nearby as she leaned on a support. Adrien walked over to Alya.

“Hey, are you ok?” Adrien asked.

“Yeah, just a little butt hurt,” Alya reassured.

“I’m sure the ‘I told you so’ didn’t help your already wounded pride,” Alix retorted.

Alya growled, then sighed. “No, it didn’t. But, really, I should thank you, Alix.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Because of you making me mad, I got to meet the Bloody Bug. Actually talk with her unlike at Adrien’s party. And I can promise you that I’m one step closer to figuring out who she is.”

Alix rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure you are.”

Alya stood and approached Alix. “I am. And I can promise you, I know my hunch is right this time.”

Alya and Alix went back and forth. Adrien looked at them as a slight pang of familiarity hit him. He tilted his head at the pair. The sight of them together reminded him of last night with Bloody Bug and Alya. More in appearance than their back and forth.

The first bell rang and broke Adrien from his thoughts. Students headed towards their classes to begin the day.

“C’mon. We should get going,” Adrien said.

“I agree. I don’t think I can stomach any more conspiracy theories for the day,” Alix remarked.

Alix walked up to their classroom while they all lingered behind. Alya ran up and stared down Alix.

“It’s no conspiracy. I am right and I will prove it. Just you wait!”

Alix waved her hand dismissingly and vanished.

“You sure you have an idea?” Nino asked.

“I sure do, but I won’t share it this time. This one requires patience, planning, and stealth,” Alya declared.

“Who do you think it is though?” Rose asked.

Alya shook her head. She zipped up her lips and threw away the key. She smiled as she headed up to the classroom. The other girls shrugged and followed Alya. Adrien and Nino lingered behind.

Nino sighed with a smile. “She really is something, isn’t she?”

“Who? Alya?”

“Huh? Oh! I mean, yeah, she’s cool. Stubborn as an ox but determined as can be.”

Adrien noticed a spark in Nino’s eyes when he talked about Alya. “Nino, do you like Alya?”

“Huh? What are you talking about? She’s like a sister to me. There’s no way we’d ever be anything more.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “Sure. Let’s go before we’re late.”

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