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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 7: The Hierophant

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby, @tayab12, @saratustra4, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @thepotatobleh

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⥼ Summary ⥽

In Prague, Nadya and the others seek the audience of the most famous name in histories both mortal and vampire. It's probably for the best that she doesn't get her hopes up.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

Prague is cramped roads and buildings of all sizes and heights all mostly the same four or five different earthy, rusty tones. Cobblestone streets and narrow alleys she can’t help but look at even in passing and think, with the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention, there goes another hiding place for something wicked and foul.

That isn’t to say Prague isn’t beautiful. Because it is. One of Nadya’s favorite things about living abroad in college (and only in the very smallest back of her mind in Paris and the other cities they’ve hopped to and from here while on the run for their lives and the very fate of the human race) was all the old architecture she got to walk past every day like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Prague is full of opportunities like that.

In her most Nadya-esque fashion, she chooses to focus on that instead of what may or may not lurk in the shadows. She chooses to look at the beauty and history around her because you don’t see stuff like this every day.

That, and because she knows it doesn’t matter what hiding place she might spot — doesn’t matter whether that alleyway or this abandoned road is empty or not. There are things out to get them — out to stop them — regardless of whether or not she’s lucky enough to catch a glimpse.

That’s just their new reality.

Prague is chillier; a fact not made any better by the fact none of the bodies she can cling to in the cold have an ounce of warmth for her to leech. Prague is also kinda rainy; and more often than not when she has the chance to push back the curtains of their modest hotel room the sky is the same shade of grey it was the day before. That’s totally fine — just add some snow and it’s almost like home.

Prague is also the long-time home of Vlad Tepes, the vampire more popularly known around the world as Dracula.

Don’t forget that bit.

Lily certainly hasn’t.

“C’mon,” she’s brought this up half a dozen times now and it always ends the same way but when has that ever stopped her before, “he can’t really be that bad.” Because she’s convinced herself that Kamilah, Serafine, and Adrian are all being a touch too dramatic when it comes to their biased opinions on the most (in)famous vampire in history.

And part of Nadya is inclined to agree… but it wouldn’t be fair not to take into account how literally none of the aforementioned vampires are prone to excessive hyperbole. So maybe he can really be, well, that bad.

Kamilah simply sighs and continues sipping her wine in idle silence. She stopped entering the discussion early on; probably of the mindset that Lily will see exactly what they all mean when the time comes. Whatever that means.

At this point the only one who will actively engage with her is Adrian. Which says a lot — that’s really out of character for him. “I thought much the same before I met him in person, but the truth is much stranger than the fiction when it comes to Vlad.” He’s said something to this effect every single time, too.

And don’t think Nadya hasn’t noticed how he usually ends up shifting where he sits and-slash-or stands. Or how Serafine is usually there to offer him an affectionate touch in some form or another. There’s a story there, she’s certain of it. But she trusts him to bring it up if or when it becomes relevant to their current dilemma — and if it isn’t then she looks forward to teasing him when the world is safe and Gaius is dust in the wind.

Because it’s important to note that truth and fiction are as different as oil and water when it comes to the man, the myth, the legend. Who apparently did his fair share of noteworthy conquests in his human years and even his first couple of decades as a vampire; but somewhere down the line wound up going from famed ‘impaler’ to something that — based on Serafine’s general description anyway — is shaping in Nadya’s mind’s eye to look something like a cross between Vegas-sensation Mario Bautista and KISS without the face paint.

“There’s something to be said for the measure of success Vlad has been able to attain while living in the heart of the Order’s battleground,” says Serafine almost absently, “but any praise for him should live and die there — even that I find myself questioning from time to time.

“He has been widely reviled from the moment he brought that ridiculous novel to light. Not only for placing us in the public eye but for doing so with such utter… disregard for our truths.”

Jax raises an eyebrow. “You’d think spreading a bunch of lies that humans end up believing wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” But everything on Serafine’s face disagrees.

“One might think, perhaps. But if anyone was less suited to such an ill-fitting ego…”

“So he’s got a big head,” Lily shrugs, “what’s the big deal?”

The Big Deal is, apparently, how Vlad Tepes has gone from boasting ass to full-on diva in the centuries that followed. Something Serafine seems to take more than a little personally. “And one could suffer his endless tales when they revolved around little more than himself. When he shifted his focus to the Church of the First things became… complicated.”

Needless to say the entire premise of ‘Vlad Tepes—the Dracula—considers himself to be a prophet for the First Vampire in all but official theophany, and serves as Europe’s go-to for all things related to the devotion of Rheya Herself’ is something Nadya has been struggling to wrap her head around for… this whole time.

Maybe seeing it all with her own eyes will do something about that, she thinks, if only so Lily will finally stop trying to poke and prod for answers their friends don’t seem eager to provide.

Unlikely, but, you know.

“How a person takes in faith is unique to them, and a deeply personal experience. Regardless of their…” Serafine purses her lips for the right words. Or at least ones that are a little more in English and a little less like curses. “… unchecked vanity.

“While I cannot speak with certainty as to whether or not Vlad was a true believer in the ideals of the Goddess, whatever he did feel was enough to earn him a place at Gaius’ side during the pivotal years he spent spreading Her belief.

“What he lacks in all else he makes up for in his ability to sensationalize anything that comes tumbling out of that vacant head of his.”

Which explains the whole ‘singing Gaius’ praises’ thing; the largest source of disagreement when it finally came down to whether or not they were willing to risk it all for what Vlad might know.

And while it was unanimous that they would have preferred to wait and see what more concrete information they could dig up, time isn’t on their side. “Still an awful lot to risk on a mere hunch,” comments Cadence — whose natural affinity for research has made spontaneously vanishing away to Prague more than a little stressful for him.

“I just can’t understand how anyone would even consider believing his claims to have seen the Eternal Tree for himself when there’s literal published proof he’s a pathological liar.”

But this is something they’ve been over, too. Not that Nadya doesn’t totally understand venting the same frustrations in the wake of inaction. But it’s not faith in Vlad Tepes that she has.

Her faith lies in Kamilah. That is more than enough.

“Time and time again I witnessed retribution served by Gaius unto those who claimed to have been touched by the First in some divine form or another. He would not suffer anyone speaking falsely of Her — for good or for ill. Vlad’s claim to have seen the Tree with his own eyes wasn’t exactly kept quiet, yet he remained untouched and, unfortunately, very much alive.”

Which pretty much confirms it’s the one impossible thing he’s actually telling the truth about. This is a good thing!

“And you’re sure you are up to the task, petit?”

Nadya knows Serafine only asks because this is something they can’t do without her. Serafine could try to suss out the truth from him on her own but it would only waste more time.

For once though, Nadya feels… not-as-uncertain as she usually does about these things. She wouldn’t be so bold as to call it confidence, but how hard can one ordinary (fame aside) vampire be after she literally pulled Gaius’ oldest memory out of thin air?

“I am.”

“And if your way doesn’t work, we can always go my route.”

And perhaps the most disconcerting thing of all is how those who would normally oppose Jax’s methods of sword-related threats and violence remain pointedly and purposefully silent. Not that anyone is particularly inclined to draw attention to it.

Just like they don’t draw attention to the way Kamilah tactfully uses the rim of her wine glass to conceal the barest twitch of her lips.

Though none of them are surprised at his offer however, Serafine seems to have outright expected it. She throws him a coy smile across the table; a devious glint in her eye.

“Actually Jax, I’m glad to hear you are up to the task. As what I have in mind will not be possible without your help.”

Sometimes the best plans are the ones that take the most direct route to get to where you’re going. And there’s really nothing more direct than what Serafine has in mind.

The estate is a little under an hour away from Prague itself; swathed in lush and vibrant countryside — or that’s what Nadya imagines. It’s kind of hard for her to see out of the tinted limousine windows as they venture on their lonely road after dark.

Not that the place itself is hard to see. Like a beacon in the night the Tepes manor and surrounding land is lit up in the night. Even with the moon hidden behind roiling clouds the moment their car pulls in and begins ambling up the long gravel pathway they are met with what’s practically a battalion of lamp-posts to show them the way.

All she can think about is how long it must take someone to travel the grounds and light up every single one.

The rest of Vlad Tepes’ lands are hard to see properly. On account of the towering and neatly-trimmed hedge walls that flank their path. “Vlad’s labyrinth is somewhat of a popular novelty,” Serafine explains quietly, “though our heightened senses take most of the intrigue and mystery from the search from start to finish.”

But some well-manicured bushes are nothing compared to the splendor of the actual castle itself. With its sprawling Gothic architecture in spires and buttresses it’s truly everything one would expect when they hear something like ‘the Castle of Vlad Tepes.’

Flickering flames in old stained-glass windows somehow both perfectly preserved and still allowed to age with grace. Not unlike vampires themselves, Nadya thinks fleetingly, and lets herself drink in the passive appreciation of it while she can.

Before something inevitably goes wrong and, much like in the way of Marcel’s castle back home, has her thinking back on it with a sour taste in her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you just called the guy up.”

Jax has barely paid any of it a second glance; not the journey or the destination. He’s stayed in pretty much the same position the entire drive; arms never uncrossing from his chest and, to literally no one’s surprise, with his sword never leaving his lap.

“How would you rather I have gone about arranging this little parley then, hm?”

The two vampires stare one another down in silence. Suddenly the cabin feels a lot more cramped and heated than it did just a moment ago. Nadya tugs at the collar of her shirt in discomfort.

“I’m not saying I had a plan, but if I’d had time to make one it wouldn’t be walking through his front door.”

But the younger’s irritation only seems to amuse Serafine, who purses her lips into a thin line to keep from smirking at him too obviously.

“Ah, oui. I suspect you would have gone looking for a secret entrance of some kind… perhaps a sewage tunnel by which to secret yourself in and out undetected?”

Jax just shrugs. “Can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“I can.”

Two words and just like that all the mirth is sapped from the air around them. Nothing fills the void left behind; it stays hollow and empty with foreboding.

“If such a passage did exist, which I can assure you it does not, would the Order not have used it long ago in much the same way?” She raises a single eyebrow at Jax, continuing before he has a chance to answer her.

“While your modern methods are indeed a fresh eye on an old war, Jax, they seem to blind you to the full scope of the kind of life we have lived here for all these centuries. Safety is but a fleeting dream to us. No shadow goes undisturbed for signs of the enemy. Every shelter — from a boarded-up chapel on the wayside to a sprawling manor house such as this — has been deemed safe only after proceeding with the utmost caution.

“Even someone as brazen as Vlad would not dare risk his own life by doing anything else.”

Nadya swears she can hear Jax’s teeth grind in his set jaw. That may be the gravel under the tires though.

The limo starts to slow down as they pass through a break in the hedges to reveal a wide arcing roundabout that stops just shy of the castle’s imposing front doors.

“So what you’re saying is if this goes to shit tonight there’s really no escape plan, huh?” Jax finally asks, and with a much softer voice than either Serafine or Nadya would have expected.

It makes the vampiress throw him a sympathetic look. One he pointedly ignores, but when has that ever stopped her before?

“Have you such little faith in my charming disposition?”

It’s a meager attempt to lighten the somber mood at best, but it’s enough to at least ease his suddenly white-knuckled grip on the sheath of his katana.

“More like a lack of faith in your judgment.”

“Inspired by?”

“Whatever the hell you see in Raines.”

It’s as though the driver has been taking his sweet time waiting for a break in their tension to finally get there. Which can’t possibly be the case; since the partition has been up from the moment they pulled away from the hotel and the ones they left behind… can it?

He cuts the engine abruptly. Something about the reigning silence makes Nadya’s heart start to inch its way up into her throat. Jax, sitting closest to her and no doubt hearing the spike in her pulse, reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.

“You okay there?”

She gives a noncommittal shrug, glad when he doesn’t drop his hand. “Situationally or existentially?” The joke, unfortunately, doesn’t quite land.

“At least this one is above ground.” He tries to reassure her. But apparently neither of them are allowed the luxury.

“The parts you can see…” Serafine says; her last words before the door opens to signal their arrival.

The night air is cold and makes Nadya’s eyes water as she steps out between her companions. She would have rather had Kamilah or Adrian at her side but that just wasn’t possible.

Serafine had made a point that couldn’t be denied. Between Kamilah’s assumed death and Gaius’ known ability to hold a grudge longer than most modern civilizations had been around, those two were pretty much screwed if anyone just so happened to recognize them.

With Antony and Isseya off the radar since Kamilah’s return and none of them having any hint or clue as to whether or not Gaius had started extending his reach overseas yet, they were better off housebound (metaphorically speaking) for the time being.

As it is they’re risking enough bringing Jax along, but apparently the fact he hadn’t made “much of an impression” on Gaius, to put it in Kamilah’s own words, was to their benefit. They were playing safe over sorry with Lily and her newly-acquired quirks too.

It was easy to write off the fact that Serafine hadn’t even allowed Cadence to volunteer before shooting him down as being, well, Serafine and Cadence being Serafine and Cadence. But there’s still a lot they don’t know about whatever had happened to their friends when the group split up — whatever it was though was enough to ease that tension in ways nobody would have expected.

“The intention is to meet with Vlad as quickly as possible, and ideally without arousing suspicion from him or any who might be in his entourage.” Serafine had explained. “Seeing as Cynbel of the Trinity has been famously dead for over a century now, seeing him suddenly reappear in the midst of Gaius’ ascension might as well be the definition of suspicious.”

The argument was fair and valid and lucky for them to have that kind of forethought, honestly. But when Nadya thinks back to the vague air of their talk back at Ahmanet in London and pairs it almost absentmindedly with the way Serafine and Kamilah exchanged a long and almost nervous glance at one another when Cadence’s back is turned…

Let’s just say at this point she’s just waiting around for the other shoe to drop. Or the other-other shoe. Like the kind of shoe an octopus might wear or something.

All of that and only Nadya is left; always the odd one out. But the Bloodkeeper can’t not do this, so what choice does she have?

They just have to hope Kamilah was right when she assumed Gaius would want to do everything in his power not to let Nadya’s name and face spread too far or wide. That he wouldn’t dare run the risk of someone else getting to her before he could.

Neither option appeals, for the record. But at least she’s not the only one risking her neck.

The driver gestures for them to wait at the base of the castle steps, letting them know they will be shown in shortly. He doesn’t linger, job completed, and soon Nadya is throwing a glance over her shoulder to catch the bright red tail lights before the car disappears back around the hedge line and out of sight.

Serafine’s hand comes down in between her shoulder blades somehow both heavy and comforting. A simple touch that eases the tension beginning to knot there that Nadya hadn’t even realized existed.

“Your heart is racing, Nadya,” she states the obvious with a gentle smile of her own, “we may be able to account his notoriety for your nerves but please… try to control your breathing.”

She nods, wide eyed, and swallows through her dry throat before inhaling deeply through her nostrils, holding, and letting it out as a warm breath on her lips. In, and hold, and out, and in, and hold, and out several times before she glances and sees the tiniest nod of approval from the vampiress.

“You’re pretty calm, given everything.”

“Why would I not be?” asks Serafine in obvious surprise. A little too sincere, in Nadya’s opinion.

“The way you’ve been talking about him sounds a lot like you guys aren’t old friends.”

Her rouge-tinted lips purse wryly. “No, I would not associate myself with him so plainly.”

“Then why did he agree to meet with you?”

A fair question, too. One that has Jax listening attentively even if he doesn’t look away from the doors still not yet opened to greet them.

Given the gravity of the situation, Nadya’s grateful that the woman doesn’t seem to need the time to carefully choose her words on this. Hopefully that means she isn’t sugarcoating it.

“The truth is that I did not reach out to him, but rather chose to finally accept a long-standing invitation.”

“Invitation to what?”

Serafine’s answer is drowned out by the sudden opening of the front doors; old heavy wood on ornate hinges designed more with the aesthetic in mind. Their harsh squeal cuts into the trio’s ears and makes Nadya flinch violently.

Soft yellowing light spills out into the night. A haze that stretches down the stone steps and all the way to where they stand gathered on the gravel. Nadya quickly throws the back of her hand over her eyes as she blinks away hazy colorless dots in front of her sight.

It’s just one big gaping hole of uninterrupted brightness… until a shadow starts to cut a long path through the din. It stretches longer and longer until it nearly reaches all the way back near the break in the hedges; a towering figure that, once her eyes adjust to the new lighting, doesn’t quite match the reality that stands before them.

“As I live and breathe — what be this vision before me? It could not be the captivating sight of one Serafine Dupont, surely!”

There’s so much to unpack there but Nadya’s brain is already frozen and buffering on account of the singular thought that consumes her entire being.

Those are some tight leather pants.

The fact that Vlad is wearing all black only adds to the formidable, if shapely, shadow he cuts across the front path. He gestures widely and exuberantly and with no small amount of purpose; the kind of motion that makes sure his large billowing sleeves move in precisely the right way and give him the perfect amount of flair.

Even without the combined warnings from Kamilah and Serafine prior to this exact moment, Nadya’s certain this first impression is all it would take for her to know exactly the kind of man Dracula is.

A one-hundred percent unrepentant drama queen.

Neither Jax or Nadya miss the sight of Serafine quickly steeling herself. How she tucks away any lingering distaste (though maybe it’s the whole psychic-connection thing but Nadya swears it’s not that hidden if she can still feel the remnants of it) and slips on what could very well pass as a genuinely sincere smile for how natural it looks.

Oh, she’s good.

“Vlad,” she coos, somehow both a greeting and an endearment both with one meager syllable. “I see the years have remained kind.”

With his hands on his cocked hips Vlad lets out his own rich bellowing laugh. The kind that has Nadya looking subtle as she can over her shoulders to see if there really is anyone able to hear him waiting in the shadows; witnessing them all like a permanent audience for his constant theatrics. Her senses may be perilously human but Jax doesn’t seem to notice anything off… hopefully he’s got a better grasp on their surroundings while their host holds Serafine captive with a gaze.

“Whereas you, my exquisite creature, look absolutely radiant. Perhaps even glowing as much as I am!”

The ‘Count’ is definitely younger than Serafine, which makes his comment more than a little suspect. About as suspect as the fact that he hasn’t moved from his place at the top of the steps… nor has she moved from her place here below.

They’re having a good old-fashioned stand off. Each one waiting for the other to yield their ground and move things along. But it’s different between the pair of them, that much is obvious.

Vlad shifts on the heels of his boots with an expectant lilt to his smile. He’s used to being greeted with respect and reverence — which Serafine isn’t not giving him — but it means he makes others come to him.

And everyone (Vlad included) knows quite well that Serafine only does what she wishes and nothing more. Hence the way she stands graceful, calm, and poised. Hands folded lightly over the bodice tight against her blouse.

She tilts her head to the side so gently her hair falls around her shoulder in a dark pillowing cloud.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asks bemusedly, “aren’t you going to come give us a kiss?”

With his hand forced and no time to find a reasonable way to turn the tables Vlad has no choice but to acquiesce. “Of course, of course!” Then he’s skipping down the worn stone steps two at a time, the rhythm of his heels following him all the way down. “I just needed a moment to take all of you in, darling. Alive and well and vibrant as ever.”

He embraces his fellow survivor with open arms and a kiss to each of her cheeks.

Another good reason Adrian didn’t come with, Nadya finds herself thinking — the only distraction she can muster to keep from cringing at how he gets a little too friendly on her face with his lips, we need Vlad alive after all.

And after that display… that might have been something up in the air.

Vlad coaxes Serafine back to hold her at arms’ length; only he doesn’t actually let her go. Some small attempt to reconcile his failed power play, maybe.

It doesn’t matter. Just as she did before Serafine breezes her way through anything he might do to her — a simple gesture and roll of her shoulders to adjust her hair has Vlad all but staggering back like she’s thrown him backwards with all of her strength.

“You say such things as though they may have been in doubt.”

His recovery is a meager and tight-lipped smile. “My ears on the ground have a lot to say about changes abound on your side of the continent. Absolute chaos, from what I’m told.”

Tension ripples through Jax and has his hand drifting to the sword affixed to his belt. Nadya throws him a worried look; all wide eyes and silent pleas, but from the looks of it she didn’t need to bother.

They might as well be invisible for all the attention the famed vampire gives them. Not when he has whatever old grudge fuels the calculated exchange between himself and Serafine to put his energy into. But never in her life has Nadya been more glad to be considered chopped liver.

Serafine doesn’t immediately answer. The inaction makes Vlad’s eyes flicker in ruby shades of delight; makes his smile grow wider and a little more meaningful — he thinks he’s won somehow.

“Surely you know of what I speak,” hand over his heart and eyes downcast in cheap, tacky grief, “as I can’t begin to imagine why you wouldn’t have been in Paris during the Dark Solstice. A morbid affair, from what I’ve heard. Almost no survivors to speak of.

“Save yourself, of course.”

Tension crackles between the vampires like electricity. It amps up the long pause that lets his words settle in like a rot; one he’s content to let spread so long as he can’t see it, or as long as nothing of his is damaged by it. Though if he lets it fester everyone’s gonna succumb eventually… or some other metaphor like that.

“You’ve always given credence to such boisterous tales, Vlad.” The woman replies a mite too calmly.

“You deny the Order has reared its fearsome head on your side of the continent?”

“Did I say that?”

“You did not say otherwise.”

“No…” Her voice trails into something soft; hand coming up the brush the back of her knuckles over the high arch of Vlad’s almost alabaster cheekbone. He could bat her hand away, step out of her immediate reach; anything to abate the way he’s shaking very obviously now in his boots. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t move an inch.

He just takes it.

Topped with the cherry pink of Serafine’s angelic smile.

“No I did not.”

And just like that she’s restored some sort of hierarchy between them. One that existed long ago and that Vlad Tepes had apparently forgotten in the intermission that followed. There’s less fear in him when he finally relaxes, when she lowers her hand to clasp his with a gentle little squeeze. But there’s a difference between showing fear and being afraid.

Serafine continues with a newfound confidence. “But your concern warms my heart, old friend. Such as my heart warms to know that with our differences aside we can remember the one thing that binds us. That which is more important than anything else.

“By the Will of the Goddess.”

She takes their joined hands and twists them gently. The darkened copper of her skin in stark contrast to his as she coaxes his palm facing upwards.

Nadya watches intently. She wonders for a moment if Serafine intends to draw blood from the bright vein under her thumb… but it passes over like a kiss and nothing more.

“By the Will of the Goddess,” Vlad repeats — far more winded than he had been mere moments ago.

To Serafine’s left Jax shifts on his boots restlessly. Not that anybody asked but Nadya’s seriously impressed with him right now; given his track record with these kinds of things the fact that he can resist rolling his eyes and looking for all the world as though he’d rather take his way through this in favor of the bare minimum of neutrality is worthy of some serious accolades.

Not that he gets any. But Serafine can take a hint.

“Vlad, ma puce, let us move this inside, shall we? I’ve yet to introduce my delightfully stoic American friend here; and he’s been so patient with us hasn’t he?”

It isn’t hard for Jax to pretend to be utterly disinterested in Vlad as the man finally seems to acknowledge his presence — simply because he’s not even pretending. But Vlad had been; that much is obvious. As he looks the younger vampire over with a lazy enough eye.

One that makes it abundantly clear that he had noticed Serafine was not alone; but that he simply didn’t see why he ought to make the effort to care.

“American you say,” — oh of course he says it like that; snooty upper crusty and like he’s actively trying to get Jax to put him at the top of his hit list; maybe even higher up than Gaius at this point — “how… bold of you.”

But his attitude aside, it’s impossible to miss the shift in the way Vlad’s eyes rake over Jax to take him in fully and as a person, less like a piece of Serafine’s luggage left aside.

His eyelids lower a fraction, likes like smoldering embers as he drags his gaze up to finally take in Jax’s handsome features through thick lashes. If there was any doubt left as to what the man’s mind conjures up with the sight before him — there really isn’t though — that’s pretty much dashed the moment he swipes a hint of his tongue out to wet his lower lip.

“Yes, bold indeed…”

Before he can say anything else there’s a loud noise from just beyond the castle doors. A heavy thud that sounds an awful lot like heavy furniture or something else being dragged across a floor.

Jax’s shoulders sag in visible relief as the sound jostles Vlad out of his thoughts and back to the present. He turns back to Serafine.

“Yes yes, do come inside! The American too, I suppose… You can even bring your little snack.”

It takes Nadya entirely too long for her to realize she is the snack. That doesn’t sit well, to be honest.

But it’s the first time Vlad’s even acknowledged her existence and… it’s a little underwhelming if she’s being honest. Not that she wants to earn Vlad’s attention in any form — especially with how touchy-feely he’d been with Serafine — but maybe by this point she’s just gotten so used to strange reactions from vampires that being completely and utterly ignored is… a whole lot of strange for its own reasons? If that makes sense?

It does make sense, if Serafine’s face is anything to go by. How she darts a quick look between Vlad and Nadya and just barely manages to wipe the confusion from her face before it becomes something worth noting.

It could be worse… so she counts her blessings.

Without further pleasantries the man takes long strides back up the steps. He assumes they will follow right at his heels, and they do. Though if the looks shared between the three of them are any indication nobody is feeling as confident about this whole mess as they did before they exited the car.

And they can’t even mention it. What with the whole vampires having supersense-hearing and all.

Vlad doesn’t stop at the top of the stairs. He continues striding right on through the doorway and immediately he’s met by an attendant on either side. Each face is pretty in the way model runways are pretty; with a sharpness to their features that makes them look almost feline and, these two at least, with some kind of gold-colored highlighter that accentuates the sharpness of their umber skin in the distant candlelight.

One steps behind him to catch the suit jacket he shrugs off of his shoulders, while the other who places a fresh glass of a brown liquor in his waiting hand.

“I hope you can forgive the mess of the place,” Vlad pauses to sip his drink and thanks one of the pretty faces with a knuckle stroked along their long throat. They remain impassive to the act but the intimacy can’t be denied.

“You know how crazy things can get when planning the social event of the year and all that.”

Only it’s not a mess so much as it is just a bit… bustling. From the front walk Nadya’s human hearing hadn’t caught onto the noises coming from inside the place but seeing it all now she’s considering getting her hearing checked.

One would expect an estate that looks like that on the outside would be no less decorated within, but decorated is pretty much an understatement. Though if anyone were to make sure any place they lived was decorated to the nines regardless of the time of year it would be Vlad.

Despite knowing that, the hectic bustle of bodies between propped open grand doors and up and down a staircase that branches off on three of the castle’s main floors, though the staggering height of the place from afar tells her there are more levels than what she sees here.

Everything is decorated with the kind of taste that comes from old and inherited wealth and is topped off with a modern edge.

Banisters roped with thick twines of velvet in various shades of reds and golds and what look like real diamonds acting as little more than baubles dangling from the tassels at the hems; furniture scattered around the large foyer in plush cushions and couches that look at first like the genuine antique but on second glance are gold-inlaid replicas built with modern crafting techniques and with longevity in mind.

Another thud comes from a handful of attendants moving a large chaise from one side of the hall through another doorway.

On the ground floor there’s a giant ladder propped up against the far left wall and an attendant balancing atop it. They hold themselves perfectly still, almost delicate, while they secure dark nearly blood-red ribbons around the bottom rungs of a chandelier. They must be nearly done, judging by the same material already wrapped around the chain securing it to the ceiling, and the dark color of the fabric dulls the light and leaves the room hazy both from the continuous heat of the flames that don’t quite permeate the thick texturing.

By the time this place — or this space at the very least — is done being decorated it will certainly be beautiful. But it will be a dark kind of beauty — gothic in a way.

Exactly the kind of event decorations you would expect from Count Dracula; but there’s a respect to be had for the fact he leans into the aesthetic with gusto.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Tepes,” praises Serafine through a hitch in her throat. She’s looking around the foyer with a wistful kind of wanting; a small sparkle held in her eyes that has nothing to do with the lavish decor and everything to do with the invisible hand squeezing her heart up into her throat.

Given recent events especially, the vampiress is no stranger to grief and longing.

And Vlad beams like the way she speaks is more of a compliment than the words themselves.

“Only the best for the best of us, as I’m sure you remember.”

“All your earlier words about the Order, yet you insist on throwing your bal masqué.”

“It is specifically because of these troubling times that we must continue with our most important traditions, Serafine!” He feigns shock with a hand on his chest. The ice in his tumbler tinks together delicately in his grasp. “I thought you, of anyone, would agree.”

He’s goading her and getting more obvious in how he does it by the second. She’s taken it with grace up until now but there’s a tight edge to her tone starting to chip through her armor.

“Tradition, in times of war, can be put aside if that’s what ensures it has chance to be continued.”

“When are we not at war? The Order is no less vicious now than it was before…” He stops and sips his drink again. Casting a passive appraisal around the continued decorating.

“Unless,” with a click of his tongue, “there is a different war you speak of.”

Nadya doesn’t know what’s scaring her more right now; the fact that Serafine had let something that dangerous slip to begin with or the fact that Vlad had caught on so easily. She risks a look at him out of the corner of her eye… much to her relief his sights are still set on Serafine.

An easy grin curls his mouth. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment; let me make sure the parlor’s been made to greet us.” And when he takes his leave of them off to the right and around a set of double doors there’s a saunter to his gait that wasn’t there before. His smugness lingers in the air like a bad perfume.

The moment he’s out of earshot Jax rounds on Serafine with barely-restrained frustration.

“What the hell are we playing his games for? We don’t need to do any of this to find out what he knows.”

With pursed lips Serafine continues to watch the preparations taking place around them. Jax’s frown deepens.

“Serafine.”

“I heard you Jax, don’t worry.”

But that’s still not an answer. Before he ends up raising his voice even more, Nadya reaches out and lays her hand over Serafine’s where she wrings her fingers together at her waist.

“Serafine…” If only she didn’t sound as worried as she is; as the woman’s continued silence makes grow inside her. Serafine doesn’t push her away, but she doesn’t seem welcome to the touch either.

She finally lets her head hang with a weary sigh. “I had thought that given all that transpires around us, Vlad might have chosen to postpone this for the sake of his own safety.

“If not because of Gaius, then because of the Order.”

“Because they’ve been attacking more often, you mean.”

She nods. “But that’s assuming far too much of him. Cunning though Vlad may be, he isn’t very bright.”

“He’s certainly…” Jax’s growl drips with venom, “something.” Nothing good.

“So are we keeping with the plan?”

Squeezing the woman’s hand is enough to finally wrench Serafine’s attention back to Nadya. “No, we are not.”

Jax tenses. “Why the hell not?”

“Because this —” Nadya’s hand falls to let her offer a sweeping gesture to the foyer’s decorations, “— his bal masqué? It changes things. It changes everything.”

She says it in a way that has Nadya feeling like she’s missing a few key facts. She and Jax exchange equally confused glances, and make Serafine sigh heavily for it.

“There’s too much to be explained here. We must leave while we still are able.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he knows who you are, Nadya.”

It’s like a large gust of wind blows out every candle in the room. Not literally — but the warmth of them is sucked from her bones easily enough. It leaves Nadya feeling hollow as much as she is cold; makes her wrap her arms around herself like that will somehow protect her. She shakes her head slowly… but the disbelief isn’t as intense as she would have hoped it to be.

“But he —”

“— is a performer before he is anything else,” interrupts Serafine; and she’s not wrong. “While he may not have guessed you would be at my side tonight, he has likely known your face and who you are for as long as Isseya and Antony have.”

“So Gaius has been in contact with him then.”

Serafine doesn’t even have to give Jax a verbal response.

“Then we need to go. We need to leave the city; regroup somewhere else.”

“We’ll take our leave of him tonight, yes… but—” —there shouldn’t be any ‘buts’— “—we will be back. We’ll be here for the bal masqué, with the others; and, Goddess-willing, better prepared.”

Uhm… what?

“Why the hell would we do that?” And Jax just barely manages to check his volume, though he’s no less angry. “It’s a party for fucks’ sakes. What’s the big deal?”

“Not here.”

The swordsman throws a look over his shoulder towards the doors Vlad should be coming back through any minute now. “He’s not just gonna let us leave. Especially if —”

Especially if he knows.

But Serafine seems to think otherwise.

“He will. He knows we’ll return; I would even hazard to say he is counting on it.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Unsurprising.”

Before he can try and push the issue Serafine wraps a strong arm around Nadya’s shoulders and all but shoves her towards Jax. “Take her and go. I will deal with Vlad and give you what time I can.”

He just barely manages to catch Nadya before she falls into him. Reaching out to steady her and make sure she has her feet before rounding on their companion. “What the he—”

But he’s too late. Serafine is already five long strides away — far enough that he’d need to raise his voice to catch her. And they both know he won’t take the risk in alerting Vlad’s house staff. They’ve all been dutifully working this entire time, but if the woman dusting picture frames or the couple laying down ornate Persian rugs are anywhere as deceptive as their boss they may be ready to strike at any time.

That thought does not sit well with Nadya’s meager dinner.

“We should try and leave.” While we still can.

His jaw visibly tenses, but already he’s starting to slowly nudge the pair of them back through the open doors. “Fine. But she and I aren’t done with this.”

They catch the distant sound of Serafine’s laugh just as they walk through the doorway. The cold bites Nadya’s hands and face harder than before but sheer panic is more than enough to keep her putting one foot in front of the other. When they’re out of the building and back in the darkness, Nadya and Jax don’t hesitate to pick up the pace. Any faster when they hit the gravel and they’ll be full-on running into the night.

Well… they are running into the night. That’s the point.

“What’s with all the vampires on this freaking continent and the fact they can’t give a straight answer to save their lives?”

“Well they can’t all be like you.”

At the glower he gives her Nadya just barely manages a smile through chattering teeth. It definitely helps her feel less panicky.

“And that means what exactly?”

“They can’t all be bold Americans, obviously.”

Jax groans, fully under-appreciating her brand of awkward humor, and takes Nadya’s hand to bring her along as he speeds away.

#bloodbound #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #kamilah x mc #jax matsuo #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #serafine dupont #vlad tepes #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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servinglemonade · 4 years

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Holiday Movies🎄🎬 : Festive AF or Bah Humbug?

Hi! First up, I hope you are doing okay and are staying safe. It has been a weird Christmas season, and since The Netherlands is now in their second lockdown period for 2020, it is even weirder. However, that is not messing up my festive spirit. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, and not even 2020 will mess that up for me. Something I have been doing since lockdown is watching movies (even more than usual). Including a bunch of new Christmas movies. I watch the classics as always and made a blog post for that a couple of years ago. Which you can read here. So, I decided to make a post with all the ‘new’ Christmas movies I have watched this year! So keep reading to find out if these movies will make you say Ho-Ho-Ho or No-No-No...

No worries, all the reviews are spoiler-free!

The Holiday Calendar (2018): Festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I watched this movie back in 2018 because I love Quincy! So, I was curious about this movie. I adored it. Now it has become an annual Christmas watch. Kat Graham and Quincy have great chemistry and the plot is quite original, which I can always appreciate. It is a fun movie and very cozy!

Anastasia (1997): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I have been watching this movie since I was little, and I feel it so underrated! This is not a Christmas movie. However, with the winter scenery, I think it is great for the Holiday season! It’s the story of Anastasia, who may or may not be a long-lost Russian princess... The animation is fantastic, the locations are so pretty to look at, the characters and cast are amazing, and the soundtrack and musical numbers are just incredible. Yeah, there is a lot to love about this movie! Highly recommend.

The Lego Star Wars Holiday Special (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+ (if you do not have Disney+, it is on YouTube in two parts, but you did not hear that from me ;))

I have never watched the Lego Star Wars stuff but when I saw that this was coming out, I thought: yes, sign me up! I had so much fun watching this. I highly recommend it for any Star Wars fan! Does not matter if you like the prequels, original trilogy, or the sequels, this has something for everyone! It has some great humor and some GREAT character moments. I LOVE one moment so much that I downloaded it on my phone to watch whenever I want. This will get you in the Christmas (or as they say in the SW universe Life Day) spirit for sure!

Holidate (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I watched this one with my friends through a virtual watch party and enjoyed it. It was way better than I expected after seeing the trailer. Emma Roberts is great as always and it was quite funny. However, with Christmas just 5 days away (yeah!!!!!), I recommend putting this one on your list for November/early December. Since the movie is not all Christmas.

The Princess Switch 2: bah humbug

Where to watch: Netflix

I hate to say it because I liked the first one and love Vanessa Hudgens, but this was not good. The plot got so ridiculous at some point and besides Vanessa and some others, most of the cast were quite mediocre. The outfits were fantastic though!

Operation Christmas Drop (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

I enjoyed this movie. However, I do not feel the need to watch it again. Kat Graham and Alexander Ludwig’s performances are wonderful and it has a great message. The movie takes place on the island of Guam and it was so beautiful! Even though the plot can be quite predictable, it is still quite an original story for a Christmas movie!

My Christmas Inn (2018): bah humbug

Where to watch: Netflix

Predictable and cheesy. It has all the basic beats of your regular Christmas movie. A woman with a very busy and successful job goes to a small town, usually does not like Christmas or is too busy to celebrate it. Then they usually meet the town’s most eligible bachelor, and well... You can fill in the rest. Tia Mowry does a fine job for what she has been given and the town and inn are charming.

Noelle (2019): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I was not sure about this one after the trailer, but I LOVED this! Anna Kendrick and Billie Eichner are so great here and the movie has so many Christmas puns... Oh my garland, right up my alley. I loved the look of the North Pole, soooo magical. Plus, Snowcone is absolutely adorable! SO SO SO festive!

Dash & Lily (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

Okay, this is not a movie, but a series. However, it is just 8 episodes that are around 20-27 minutes each and it is very binge-able! This show is based on a book. I don’t want to give anything away, but the basic plot is that this boy who hates Christmas comes into contact with a girl who loves Christmas through a notebook, which might sound really vague, but it will become clear when you watch it! It takes place in New York during the Christmas season (obviously), which drew me to the show in the first place. Call me basic, but NYC looks so festive and magical. This is what this show is too! I loved it and hope there will be a second season next year!

Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

This movie is... INCREDIBLE. Everything about it is just magical. The cast, set design, characters, costume design, musical numbers and choreography, the story. Everything is just wonderful! You can tell this movie had a big budget which it deserves. I even forget for a minute that I was watching a Netflix movie?! You have to watch this one, you will not regret it. My favorite songs were This Day and Make It Work Again. The Usher and Kiana Ledé version of This Day is fantastic too and has been on repeat! Someone on Twitter said that this movie would make an amazing Broadway musical which I agree wholeheartedly with and someone should get on that and make it happen!

Godmothered (2020): festive AF

Where to watch: Disney+

I liked Godmothered. The plot was nice, the characters were fun and overall enjoyable. I do not know why, but I just always enjoy stories where someone who is not from our world, comes here and discovers everything in funny ways. It just cracks me up, and Godmothered has those aspects as well. I was also impressed by the special effects and CGI in this movie.

Christmas in Evergreen (2017): bah humbug

Where to watch: I watched this one on TV and it is not on Netflix here in The Netherlands, but maybe you will be in luck... or not (since the movie is not very good)

The town of Evergreen has become a running gag now in my house. There is not 1, not 2, but 3 movies that take place in this town. I-... I do not know what to say haha. I mean, just like My Christmas Inn, a very basic plot. Evergreen does have a charming, festive feel to it, so the movie has that going for it. Other than that, not a lot. One thing I found ridiculous was when the main character had a flight to catch. You would think that she has to get to the airport, yet she goes on all these side quests and I was just so annoyed by it.

Christmas Wonderland (2018): festive AF

Where to watch: Netflix

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it predictable? Yes. Did I enjoy it? Heck yeah. I do not know why, but Christmas Wonderland is not as cringe as some of these Hallmark Christmas movies can be. It stars Emily Osment (you might know her from Hannah Montana) and she is an artist here. Overall, not a waste of time and it was fun to watch.

So that was it for this post! I hope you enjoyed it and maybe gave you a few new Christmas movies to watch! What are some of your favorite Christmas movies?

I will be back with more posts after Christmas! Maybe some of my favorite things from 2020, to end this year on a positive note!

There are just 3 days left until Christmas. 2020 has been the longest, yet the fastest year ever. I know this Christmas will be different and there will be lots of people spending it without their loved ones. If you are one of them, I am so sorry. I hope you can enjoy the day regardless. Watch a few movies, eat all your favorite Christmas treats, call up your loved ones, treat yourself with a nice face mask, or do absolutely nothing. It’s up to you.

I truly hope you have a wonderful Christmas and I am sending lots of virtual hugs your way! I wish you a very merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! XO

Yenai

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homenum-revelio-hq · 4 years

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Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Christie!

You have been accepted for the role of MARY MACDONALD! We loved how readily you embraced the harsher sides of Mary -- and how you wrote her embracing those aspects of herself, as well -- and we're so excited to see the fire and fuel she brings to the Order of the Phoenix! Things are going to get hot for enemy and ally alike with your Mary on the dash, and we can't wait to see it!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: christie, she/her

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE: bst

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Uni’s started once again and I did go through a period of ‘oh snap how is that going to work‘ but that being said, I believe I’ve finally found my balance once again and feel confident enough in taking on a third character. I try to join at least one sprint a week, but then even when I can’t do that, I usually try to have mini sprints by myself.

ANYTHING ELSE: nope, nothing

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Mary Lizbeth MacDonald

AGE: 20 soon-to-be 21 (3 April 1961)

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis female, she/her, ‘don’t know, don’t care’. She’s not particularly interested in romance and whenever she feels any sexual frustration, boys seem to do the trick just fine. She doesn’t care to explore her sexuality beyond that.

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

ANY CHANGES: Nope! All good!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Many seem to think that Mary’s angry – and they’re right, don’t get her wrong. She’s fucking pissed at all the thumb twiddling, at the idiotic fanatics obsessed with slaughtering her kind, at the moralists looking down on her methods from their high horses. But she’s also not an idiot; she knows that anger kills and that if she’s not smart about this, it’ll kill her too. So she lets it drive her, lets it fuel her, but never lets it control her. She’s smart like that.

She also knows most would prefer to think of her killing Mulciber as a heat-of-the-battle, spur-moment decision, but that’s not what it was. When she looked him in the eye, his wand on the ground somewhere in the distance, Mary felt a moment of perfect clarity wash over her. She was perfectly capable of taking him in, she was sure of it, and for a brief moment, she considered it too. But then the corner of her lips twitched, pulling at the tissue of her scar, and her decision was made. If that makes her ruthless then so be it; God knows they’ve got enough soft-hearted plonkers in their ranks already. And if they need someone to hold their hand and pat them on the back for a job well done, they can fuck right off. The Order isn’t an after school special nor is it an extracurricular to join for the ‘experience’ and Mary certainly isn’t here to coddle anyone. She says it as it is, straightforward and blunt, and it’s sure as hell not her problem if people can’t handle the truth. She didn’t join the Order to make friends who’d braid her hair. She has a war to fight and everything else comes second.

That isn’t to say she’s a stone-cold bitch, though, as many times as she’s heard that. She has people she cares about, of course she does, but isn’t that the point? How can she claim to love her family, her siblings, and just sit around and wait for them to get killed off? How can she claim to care about the fate of Muggleborns and not join the fight against those who try to murder them? It’s not her passion and heart that people should question, it’s their own. Because if they cared, they wouldn’t be wasting their time judging her, they’d be fighting tooth and nail, like she is. Call her bold, call her desperate, she doesn’t give a flying fuck. If she has to, Mary will take the mud from her veins and throw it in the eyes of the Death Eaters; anything to buy another second, anything to win.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

There’s no question of whether or not Mary loves her family – of course she does! She loves her mum, who once tried to braid her hair but only managed to tangle it up so badly that they had to cut some of it off. She loves her dad and his terrible, stupid jokes that she doesn’t get half the time but snorts at regardless. She loves Adam too, how can she not? They had their dual act perfected; ‘I wash, you dry’, ‘I help Mum, you help Dad’, ‘I take Sarah, you take John’. And Sarah and John, the babies of the family. Except they’re not babies anymore, are they? Mary loves them too, with her entire heart and more, but she missed John’s first day in middle school. She missed Sarah’s first boyfriend. She still sees them as those tiny bundles who cried a lot, pooped a lot, and refused to ever let go of her hair, but that’s not who they are.

It’s better this way, though. The less contact any of them have with the Wix World the better. Maybe one day, when the war’s over, Mary will be able to go home and apologise. She’s not sorry, but it’s not like any of them know her anymore. They’ll believe her. And they deserve an apology, anyway. It’s the least she can do. After that… she’s not sure. But it doesn’t matter. She’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it.

OCCUPATION:

Barista at a teashop in Diagon Alley. Yes, she’s very much aware of how ridiculous the mental image of Mary MacDonald serving tea is, but it’s a pretty sweet gig. The pay’s good, the shifts are flexible enough that she can structure her daily routine around the Order as opposed to her job, and if all that takes is serving a punch of grannies tea and biscuits then Mary will do just that. Who knows, maybe one day the old hags will even take a hint and stop telling her what a pretty girl she is, but shame for that ugly scar. Her boss sometimes gives her crap for not smiling and playing along, but considering Mary hasn’t spat in their tea just yet, she thinks she’s handling it perfectly well.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Being in the Order was never about sitting around and moralising, not to Mary. It was an outlet, it was a purpose, it was an opportunity, but never passivity. And the fact that all they seem to do nowadays is talk doesn’t sit right with her. James Potter is dead and that’s shit, she gets it. She misses him too. But unless the Order wants everyone else to join him in the afterlife, it’s time they got their shit together. And none of that vagueness, Mary’s talking plans and action. Immediate, if possible. Before the Death Eaters get even stronger.

That’s one thing she brings to the Order, at least. The push, the harsh truths, the pressure. The Muggleborn perspective, if you would. Because of course all those noble Purebloods can afford to babble at length – it’s not them being slaughtered. They might care, sure, they might want to help, but that doesn’t change the fact they don’t understand. The clock ticks differently for them, more slowly, quietly, while Mary can barely hear her own heartbeat over its deafening noise. Hell, they might be out of time already. Not that that changes anything; there’s only one path to take and Mary feels as though she’s running ahead while her fellow members leisurely trudge behind.

But being part of the Inner Circle’s given her a voice. They have to listen to her now, she gets to have a say in the decision-making, and that’s not nothing. She advocates for action, for fighting, but she also understands that if they do that, they’re going to have to fight smart, not just blindly charge into battle. It’s not as strange as it was once was, to coordinate with multiple people, and while Mary would still only ever leave her survival in her own hands, she’s accepted that she’s a part of something bigger now.

On paper, it should work. They’ve got some crazy smart people in their ranks (and some downright crazy people, but that’s neither here nor there), they’ve got some great duellists, and that should make up for lacking in numbers. So in theory, they’ve still got a shot. And if you ask Mary, it’s about time they got off their asses and started returning the favour.

An eye for an eye isn’t quite right. She’s always been a fan of walking the extra mile, after all. When Mulciber marked her face, she ended up taking his life. And now they’d killed James. What does that say about the Order, if they let that go unpunished? Might as well line up and paint targets on their foreheads, if you ask her.

SURVIVAL:

Mary’s tough, is all it really comes down to. She’s dead set on surviving (ha, exactly the kind of stupid joke her dad might make) and has no qualms about fighting dirty or making tough calls. Can’t afford to, really.

But thing is, she’s good at the whole surviving thing. She’s good at covering her tracks, at making sure no one sees her entering or leaving her flat, at taking care of those who take an unhealthy interest. She’d say she’s made for it, almost, but how fucked up would that be, to be made for war? Then again, what does she know about fucked up. She’s a murderer, plain and simple, and maybe it should bother her how much it doesn’t bother her. Sure, she’d had the whole breakdown-in-the-bathroom after that mission, but in the end, she’d looked at her reflection in the mirror and there’d been nothing but satisfaction there. The bastard had deserved it; if war means Mary has to play jury and executioner then so be it.

RELATIONSHIPS:

She’s heard all that crap some members spew about the Order being a family and whatnot and she’s just not buying all that. Her family is miles away in Bristol; these people here are closer to being her coworkers. And yet. It’s them she talks to daily. Not her mum, her dad, her siblings, but the Order. She’s grown fond of some of them, she can’t deny it, but that doesn’t mean shit. It’s still Mary MacDonald against the world, just as it’s always been.

Lily Evans: When Mary said Lily needed a wake-up call, her boyfriend being killed isn’t exactly what she’d meant. She’s sorry for Lily’s loss, of course she is, but there’ll be time to grieve later. Now, Mary’s curious if maybe Lily will finally see what she’s been talking about this whole time. And if that still doesn’t open her eyes… well. Nothing wrong with a lost cause, only it takes up space.

Caradoc Dearborn: His fighting club is a good idea, Mary can admit as much. She’d even offered to join and teach those airy-fairy softies how to duel. Her only question is, will all that training finally lead to some actual fighting? She certainly hopes so.

Regulus Black: Mary had never liked Regulus back in school, and she doesn’t like him still, but that doesn’t matter. He’s got important information and valuable insights, and Mary wants to know. Spending time in his miserable company is just an unfortunate bonus.

Remus Lupin: Apparently, Lupin’s a werewolf, but unless that’s going to somehow help him in a fight, Mary couldn’t give two shits. He hasn’t gone and tried to kill them all just yet which is more than she can say about Voldemort so in her book, Lupin’s still alright.

Frank Longbottom: Mary’s got no actual proof of this, but she just knows he’s holding Alice back. Why else would she be so distracted as of late? Love sounds nice and all, but things like that are precisely why Mary doesn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

Love is so far down on Mary’s priority list that she can barely even see it. So of course I’d love for her to have to deal with a situation where she finds herself interested in somebody beyond just sex. But those things just happen naturally, I think, so I’ll just say that if the chemistry is right, I wouldn’t mind exploring just about any ship with Mary.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

A Muggleborn and a woman! Hide your darling little sons with their perfect little bowties, it’s the nightmare of every Pureblood mother. Really, they’re not even worth Mary’s mockery, but she gives it freely, she simply can’t help herself. Even outside of being bigoted and prejudiced, their entire little society is so damn funny to her. Twats, all of them.

Other than her clear bias against Purebloods, and perhaps contradictory of it, Mary isn’t all that fond of meek Muggleborns either. What good are they if they’re just going to be proving Voldemort right? They can use a wand and they can fight; that’s more than enough in Mary’s book. But some prefer to run away, like cowards, and she has no respect for people like that.

On the other hand, from a more Muggle perspective, Mary isn’t as liberal with sexuality as one might believe. She has no problems talking about sex, but when sexual orientation comes into play, it’s a bit of a different matter.

There’s a reason she hasn’t explored her potential attraction to women, after all. The way she sees it, sexuality is as much of a statement as anything else, except right now, there’s no need to add that on top of an entire war. She finds it needlessly attention-seeking, the people who are so open with their preferences that they almost seem to flaunt it.

Moving onto privileges, Mary just doesn’t get why Muggleborns would feel the need to flee because she’s healthy, athletic, and good at duelling; she doesn’t have the perspective of somebody who’s been driven to a corner, helpless. Furthermore, she has a job and an apartment, she’s secure in her position in the Order, and she already has a body count which gives her an additional confidence boost. She’s got it well when compared to other Muggleborns, but she would be pissed if somebody mentioned that.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I just really love it here. That’s it, plain and simple. And as soon as I figured I could balance another character, my fingers were already itching to fill out the app.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): Nothing comes to mind right now, I’m afraid.

ANYTHING ELSE? Nope :)

#homenumaccepted

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years

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Book Review

Paladin’s Grace. By T. Kingfisher. Dallas: Argyll, 2020.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: romantic fantasy

Part of a Series? No

Summary: Stephen's god died on the longest day of the year… Three years later, Stephen is a broken paladin, living only for the chance to be useful before he dies. But all that changes when he encounters a fugitive named Grace in an alley and witnesses an assassination attempt gone wrong. Now the pair must navigate a web of treachery, beset on all sides by spies and poisoners, while a cryptic killer stalks one step behind…

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger/Content Warnings: sexual content, violence

Overview: I think I came across this book while browsing Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, but I don’t remember for sure. Regardless, I decided to pick it up because the story of a paladin whose god has died intrigued me. I’m a sucker for stories about crises of faith, and I was in the mood for a fun adventure with a little angst thrown in. While the premise was very much my jam, the prose style ultimately prevented me from connecting with this book. In my opinion, it felt like the book was aimed at readers with arrested emotional development: everything felt sanitized for a younger audience (as in, there was a lot of awkward, quirky humor while nothing felt particularly threatening) yet there were also graphic sexual scenes, reminding me of a lot of New Adult stereotypes. It prevented the story from delving deep into things like what a crisis of faith might look like and how someone might navigate it, and undercut the thrill of the political intrigue. As a result, I personally couldn’t give this book a higher rating.

Writing: Kingfisher’s prose is fairly simple - simple sentences, simple images, etc. It’s pretty easy to get through, and readers can skim, if that’s what they’re into. It’s also full of “quirky humor” so that the mood is fairly light throughout. While sometimes the humor would get a chuckle from me, most of the time, it completely destroyed the mood. The best way I can think to describe it is that it resembles a lot of stereotypes I associate with New Adult fantasy books: the book feels like it’s written for younger readers, but the sexual humor/graphic sex scenes prove otherwise. Characters will make childish jokes, despite most of them being in their 30s (for example, “I wonder if you can stab someone with an ice sculpture”), or stumble over their words in what seems like an attempt to make them seem awkward (”I... um...” or “I... er... what?”). Things like “Gnnnrggzzz” and “Ohmyfuckingshitfuckshitgaaaaaaah” are written out, further making me feel like I was reading something meant to make younger readers smile. Characters rarely act their age and situations were rarely treated with the level of seriousness one would expect in reality. I personally wasn’t a fan; it made the book (and characters) feel somewhat juvenile. To be clear, I’m not against a little humor - I think humor could have been used effectively in this book, perhaps to show how Grace is a bright spot in Stephen’s otherwise gloomy life. I’m also not against light, “fluffy” romances, but I do think there’s a difference between fluff and a lack of emotional maturity.

Kingfisher also had a tendency to repeat certain things, which became irritating. Every other page, it seemed like Grace said something about how Stephen smelled like gingerbread, and it got old really fast. I also noticed that constructions like “He’s a paladin, so he...” and the like were used frequently, which did less to show me what Stephen was like and more to tell me what stereotypes are associated with paladins.

Plot: This book mainly follows Stephen and Grace as they become entangled in two main problems: 1. there is a serial killer on the loose, and his modus operandi is leaving behind severed heads, sans bodies; 2. there is a mysterious assassination plot aimed at the Crown Prince of a neighboring kingdom. To be honest, I found the serial killer plot underwhelming. It only seemed to be present to give Stephen an excuse to escort Grace places, and even when we found out who the killer was, I didn’t feel the rush of excitement or a sense of closure. I think perhaps this was because the serial killer plot wasn’t one that readers could try to piece together with the characters - at most, there was a single clue, and then it was solved (but readers can’t even predict the twist, so I didn’t feel any sense of suspense).

As for the assassination plot, I also found it underwhelming. Although it builds better than the serial killer plot, characters started acting in nonsensical - and even idiodic - ways once Grace was personally caught up the drama. I got the sense that characters were acting out of emotion and not reason, which is ok sometimes, but not ALL THE TIME. In general, I didn’t find that this assassination plot was clever, and there wasn’t much that differentiated it from other political intrigues that I’ve read in some YA fantasy.

Characters: Stephen, our hero, is paladin who previously served a warrior god, the Saint of Steel. At the beginning of the book, Stephen’s god dies (we don’t know how), and three years later, he is still struggling to find his purpose. At first, I thought I would like Stephen. He seemed like a gentleman, and he had some non-stereotypical hobbies, like knitting. I also liked that much of his personal turmoil involved some anxiety over how people would perceive him and his Order. The fear that he would succumb to a berserker rage, in particular, was an interesting bit of lore, and I thought this berserker rage could have been used to prompt further exploration of things like violence and hypermasculinity. However, as the book continued, Stephen became more and more bland. For the first half or two-thirds of the book, he resembles a 14 year old’s idea of a safe love interest in that he was perfectly chivalrous and without serious flaws. As time went on and he became more infatuated with Grace, he started getting somewhat possessive. Any man who so much as looked at grace would be subject to murderous fantasies, and while this was probably meant to show that Stephen was jealous and therefore devoted to Grace, I found it ridiculous and childish.

Grace, our heroine, is also rather bland. She’s a perfumer, which itself could have been fun, but her personality is mainly defined by her awkwardness. She also resembles a lot of YA/New Adult heroines in that she insists that she’s not attractive and that no man could be interested in her, despite at least two male characters flirting with her. It was frustrating being in her head, at times, because she would constantly say things like “normal people don’t do this,” making her seem even more awkward and “not like other people.” Her insistence on her mousiness and rather bland characterization made me wonder why anyone was in love with her at all. She moreover didn’t seem to be at qualified to handle the serial killer or assassination mysteries - in fact, I don’t think she ever uses her unique skillset (identifying scents) to help solve either mystery at all.

Marguerite, Grace’s best friend, is a bit more interesting in that she’s a spy with mysterious motivations. Marguerite is better equipped to deal with the assassination plot, as she has various contacts that feed her information and let her into places people wouldn’t normally be able to access. I liked that Marguerite was a good friend to Grace, but she, too, was a bit emotionally stunted.

Other supporting characters were interesting on paper, but because of the writing style, didn’t seem to be as compelling as they could have been. I liked Zale, the gender-neutral (or nonbinary? agender?) lawyer-priest who seemed committed to their calling to defend the helpless in court. Stephen’s fellow paladins also seemed like a supportive group of friends, and the Bishop of the White Rat was an admirable woman of force and personality. I would have liked to see more of them.

Other:

Worldbuilding: This book doesn’t have a lot of heavy worldbuilding, and it honestly didn’t need it. I appreciated the fact that I wasn’t overwhelmed with lore or facts about the kingdom - Kingfisher mostly stuck to what details were important to the plot, and for that, I was grateful.

Romance: Stephen and Grace’s romance was a little lackluster for my tastes. The main barrier to them being together stemmed from Stephen thinking he was too broken and that he might accidentally hurt her by going into a berserker rage (which... how does that still happen if his god is dead?), and Grace thinking that she is so bad at being a lover that it turns men off. Honestly, I don’t find the “I’m so broken and dangerous” angle to be very compelling. I prefer there to be other barriers to characters being together than just emotions - barriers that force some kind of character development and plot progression. In this case, Stephen and Grace don’t seem to grow much. They just get over their reservations, in part because they thought they were going to die at one point.

There were also minor scenes that made me uncomfortable. I love romance stories and don’t mind sex scenes (when they’re warranted, not when they’re gratuitous), but I hate scenes where one person has to avoid detection (by some king of city guard or something), so the other person covers them with their body and they pretend to be a person and prostitute (or something), miming sex to make it seem like they saw nothing. I just find it awkward, not funny or the basis for mutual attraction. The fact that Stephen and Grace meet this way made it all the more awkward for me to read. I guess that was the point, since Grace is a little awkward herself, but I still hate these types of scenes.

I also personally dislike when male characters are described as noticing or thinking about a female character’s bosom. Like, I get it - straight men like breasts. But I don’t want the basis of a relationship to be physical attraction. Do something else. Though I didn’t get the impression that Stephen was a creep, I didn’t like how often the author would mention that Stephen noticed Grace’s body. Grace’s breasts were mentioned a number of times, and it made me uncomfortable every time.

Overall, I felt let down by this book. While I was drawn in by the premise of a crisis of faith and a thrilling web of lies and secrecy, I was met with a formulaic romance that relied on awkwardness to make emotionally arrested characters seem relatable.

#book reviews

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

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🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 043 [Karma’s A Bitch]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,939

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Expired chances, but we gotta make it through again. ‘Cause there’s nowhere else to run. There’s still so much here, a life worth living.” AmaLee, “Again (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood Cover)”〉

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

The door creaked out and both Kurogiri and Tomura stepped inside. I glared at them, a bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. Since the day I had arrived at this hideout, I had only seen Tomura once and that was when I landed in front of the fucker. So why is he here now? This ain’t gonna end well, is it.

“Release her,” Tomura’s scratchy voice rung out. Wait, what? His red eyes narrowed between the fingers of the hand covering his face. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Winchester. You remember what my quirk is and what it can do, don’t you?” He held his right hand up, flexing his fingers.

Images of Aizawa’s skin decaying and cracking flashed through my mind. I remember the excruciating pain I felt when my own skin was decayed. I remember seeing the muscle, my heart skipping as panic flooded my senses. My lips pursed as Kurogiri unlocked the chains, letting them fall to the ground with a loud thump, kicking up dust into the air. I stood up on shaking legs – it feels like millions of tiny needles piercing my skin. I stomped my foot, making Tomura’s head tilt.

“Are you throwing a tantrum?”

“No, you fuck. I’m trying to wake up my legs.” I scowled. “You try sitting for a fucking week with your legs chained to a damn chair. Shit ain’t pleasant!”

He humphed, fingers curling around my wrist, his thumb held out and away from my skin. “We’re taking a trip. Be on your best behavior, Winchester, or else.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whateva.”

A warp gate appeared in the doorway and he started toward it, tugging me sharply forward. Kurogiri came up behind me, his arm wrapped around my right. The warp opened up to a water tower on top of a roof, the sky shining a rich, neon red as the sun sunk across the horizon. A man was sitting on the edge of the roof with his back to us.

“Huh, Hosu city looks nicer than I expected,” Tomura commented. “So, what are you gonna do?”

Wait, this is Hosu? My brow furrowed. Why the fuck did he bring me here? I know this is where Iida is interning… could I get his attention and get help from the hero he’s interning with? That could get messy and there’s no way for me to find them. One thing’s for sure though, Tomura just gave me a huge chance to escape by bringing me here.

“I will reform it,” the man answered in a deep voice. “In order to do so, blood must be spilled.”

“You have a clear goal,” Kurogiri commented. “Your dedication is admirable.”

“Ah, finally someone who understands.” The man stood up, his back slightly hunched over.

Tomura raised his free hand to rest over his right shoulder. “I get the feeling you enjoy picking on me.”

I noticed bandages peeking out from the sleeve of his sweater. Is that leftover from the USJ? “What’s wrong, Handiboi? Did the big bad villain hurt your feelings~?” I mocked, making his hand tighten around my wrist, angry eyes boring into my own. That’s gonna leave a bruise.

The man turned his head, red eyes settling on me. “Who is she?”

I scoffed. “You’re supposed to introduce yourself before asking who someone else is you Voldemort’s reject cousin lookin’ ass.” Not to mention he looks like he drowned his sorrows in a Ninja Turtles marathon. And why the fuck is his tongue hanging out his mouth like that? Bitch, are you a dog?

“Winchester,” Kurogiri scolded, his grip on my arm increasing.

“What? It’s the fucking truth.”

“I am Stain.”

My body tensed. Stain… this bitch is Stain? The mother fucking hero killer?? I swallowed hard, glancing at Tomura. They’re trying to recruit him? Wait, does that mean that neither of these dipshits knows that Stain killed my mom? I’ve personally never been in love with anyone that ain’t an anime character, but I’m pretty goddamn sure if the person I loved was killed by someone, my ass wouldn’t turn around and try to fucking recruit that someone. They must not know… should I say something?

Stain smirked, holding his arms out to the side. “Hero is a title for those that have accomplished great deeds. This city is full of false champions. All they care about is money and fame! Until this world realizes its mistakes,” he reached around, his fingers curling around the hilt of the sword strapped to his back. “I will continue my work!” And then he jumped from the roof.

“Fuck,” I muttered. “He almost makes Handiboi look sane.”

“I can hear you,” Tomura scoffed, his fingers squeezing my skin. “He talks all high and mighty and stuff, but he’s wasting his time focusing on a small stage. He’s so noble, I could cry.” He dropped my wrist to scratch at his neck.

“You shouldn’t spurn his methods,” Kurogiri scolded. “The reality is – in all the cities where Stain has appeared, crime rates have fallen. Perhaps because heroes are more conscientious or perhaps out of fear. Regardless, he does bring change.”

Tomura started to monologue about Stain’s actions, stepping away from me. Kurogiri still has his arm around mine, but his grip is looser than it was a few minutes ago. This might be my only chance.

“Kurogiri, bring out the Nomus.”

My eyes widened. ‘Nomus’? As in, plural?? It took everything Toshi had in him to beat that bird brain fuck, now there’s more of them? Fuck.

Several warp gates opened up on the roof below us, three different Nomus stepping through them. One hovered above the ground with discolored bat-like wings. One was huge like the Nomu from the USJ. One was thin and spindly.

Fuck, this is really bad, bro. They’re not attacking heroes in training, they’re attacking fucking civilians! Some of which may not even have a damn quirk. Fuck fuck fuck, what do I do? I have to do something. I took a deep breath, my body shaking as my blood started to boil within me.

Limit release!!

My school shirt shattered as power shot through my body. Before Kurogiri could react, I ripped my arm from him and rushed at Tomura, cocking a flaming fist backward but before I could make contact, I saw a stream of black from the corner of my eye. Something large slammed into my body, throwing me across the alley and to the next roof, my feet sliding across the ground to stop my momentum.

“Don’t kill her!” Tomura snapped. “Kurogiri, why did you bring her here?!”

“I didn’t. She must have come with one of the other Nomus.”

This Nomu is different. My eyes narrowed as it landed on the roof across from me, feet cracking the rooftop. While it had the same black, muscled body as the Nomu from the USJ, it was a bit smaller and its face was covered by what appears to be a paper bag with holes for its eyes. Brown hair fell to its shoulders from behind the mask.

“I order you to return,” Tomura growled angrily, but the Nomu just smirked, teleporting in front of me. I couldn’t react fast enough, its large fist connecting with my cheek and sending me flying back off the roof. It teleported behind me, its knee slamming into my back as it laughed. I cried out in pain, snapping my eyes to the ground below me. I teleported, but it was unstable, my body stumbling as I tried to catch my breath.

The Nomu landed in front of me, the force cracking the cement beneath its feet. “What’s wrong, Tegu? Where is that fire of yours?!”

My eyes narrowed. “How do you know that name?” As far as I can remember, I only used that name once when I first got here, and that was with Gran and Toshi. Had I told someone else?

It smirked. “You don’t remember me? How hurtful!” The Nomu reached up, untying the mask from its face. It slid down, fluttering on the breeze.

My eyes widened and it felt like my heart stopped. “S-Skye? How…” What the fuck is happening right now? Am I dreaming? Is this some sick joke?

She licked her cracked lips, running a hand over the scarred flesh of her face. “I was in the hospital for months because of what you did. When I finally recovered and returned to school, my friends abandoned me. They said my face was too gruesome to look at! Said it made them sick to their stomach! Even Heather betrayed me, fucking my boyfriend!”

I stood up straight, flames engulfing my hands. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to feel sorry for your ass? Don’t fucking count on it, bitch. Everything that fucking happened to you was good ol’ Karma. You got what you deserved.”

She tilted her head and giggled like a maniac. “Karma, you say? Yes, yes, it was karma that stabbed Heather and my ex-boyfriend. They betrayed me and Karma got them~”

“You fucking stabbed them for cheating? What, are you fucking Jane the Ripper?”

“Weren’t you fucking listening?!” She snapped angrily. “It was karma.”

“I always knew you were a fucking psychopath but damn…”

Her anger dropped and she giggled again. “When that shadow man walked in on me while karma was at work, I tried to stab him, but he’s immune to that. He offered me power, offered to make me stronger. How could I possibly deny such a wonderful offer? He brought me to this world, to this man that gave me power. Now, I’m unstoppable!”

My brow furrowed. Gave her power? As in, a quirk? I thought only One for All could be passed down like that. I guess… if there’s one that can do it, there’s gotta be another.

“You look confused, Tegu~ You never were very smart, were you? I’ll just have to show you instead!”

Within the blink of an eye, she appeared behind me, both of her fists coming down hard onto my shoulders. I bit back a yelp of pain as my body hit the concrete, my left shoulder going numb. She’s always been ridiculously strong, but this is just fucking ridiculous.

“Don’t tell me you’re done yet!” She brought her foot down and I rolled out of the way, jumping to my feet.

She’s super fast and strong, plus she can teleport. What is her quirk? I need to keep my distance, I can’t win in a hand-to-hand battle with her.

A scream ripped through the air behind me and I turned my head to see the large Nomu chasing after a woman – and she was carrying a small boy in her arms. I narrowed my eyes, focusing as I teleported between them, holding up my arms as the Nomu slammed into my body. I was able to slow it down, but it didn’t stop, my boots digging into the ground as it pushed me backward.

The woman had stopped in surprise and I groaned. “What are you fucking doing?! Run!”

She snapped out of her shock and began to run again, but Skye appeared in front of her with a maniacal grin. “Look at you, Tegu! Trying to act like a hero, huh? How disgusting.” She held out her hand, lightning crackling across her palm. “Too bad it’s in vain!”

My eyes widened as the lightning shot toward the woman. Damn it! I propelled myself forward with flames under my boots, my shoulder slamming into the woman’s back and shoving her to the side. The lightning hit me square in the chest and a scream ripped from my throat, my heart beating so quick I wondered if it would burst within my breast. My hair stood on end, goosebumps covering my skin. The lightning faded and I fell to the ground, my body screaming at me, begging me to stop fighting back.

I lifted my head, my fingers digging into the concrete. I coughed a few times before managing to bring myself to my knees, glancing at the side. There was a small opening between the two buildings, just barely big enough for a person to slip through. The woman and the child were gone. Good.

There’s a Nomu behind me and I don’t know what its quirks are. Skye is in front of me – super strength and speed, teleportation, and lightning. I can’t beat them, but… if they focus their attention on me, they won’t attack civilians.

“Are you really in any position to be smiling, Tegu?” Skye growled before rushing forward.

“How can I not smile when I’m looking at that gruesome face?!” Fire shot out from my body, wrapping around my torso and jerking my body upward as the flames took on the shape of a phoenix. It dropped me onto the roof before circling above me.

The building shook as Skye landed in front of me. “You won’t escape me, I’m going to rip your body apart and feast on your heart!!” She threw her head back, voice taking on a more demonic tone as she laughed.

Sweat rolled down my cheek as I stood up on shaky legs, forcing a grin. “I don’t think your boss will be happy if you kill me.”

“My boss?” She responded incredulously with a bark of laughter. “That’s hilarious, Tegu! That hand fool thinks he can control me? With these powers? Not a chance!” She lifted her hand and the ground started to shake violently, pieces of concrete broke apart and lifted up into the air, shooting toward me. I swept my arm in front of me, raising a wall of fire to destroy the debris before they could hit me.

How many fucking quirks does this bitch have??

“Skye Atol, calm yourself.” Kurogiri’s deep voice reached my ears and I could see the pulsing purple on the other side of the fire. “We need her alive. By using more than three of your quirks, you risk -”

“Shut up!!” She screamed, the rooftop lighting up as she used her lightning attack. A huge gust of wind put out my flames, pushing me backward. My heels hit the small lip surrounding the roof and I fell backward, my body falling through the air toward the earth below.

What am I supposed to do here? I’m not strong enough to beat her, but if I run away, she’ll attack other people instead! I tilted my head to look at the sidewalk at the end of the alley, focusing on that spot. I teleported, falling to my knees and breathing heavily as a sharp pain shot through my head. Shit, I’m at my limit for porting.

“Winchester?”

My fingers dug into the cement beneath me and I forced my head up. Endeavor? What the fuck is he doin’ in Hosu – A sharp pain rang through my body as something slammed into me from behind, sending me flying across the road. I shielded my face as my body slammed through the glass of the building across the street.

“Winchester!”

I coughed, rolling over onto my side. My stomach throbbed painfully and I glanced down, seeing a piece of glass lodged into my right side, blood dripping down the glass. I groaned. This is so not how I wanted to spend my fucking week.

The crackling of flames made me glance over my shoulder, remembering Endeavor. I clutched the piece of glass, the sharp edges cutting into my palm as I tugged it from the wound with a grunt. Blood splattered to the ground and I placed my hand over the wound. Fuck, this is gonna hurt so bad…

I closed my eyes, focusing my power into my hand as it started to heat up. I pinched the skin together, my teeth burrowing in my bottom lip at the searing pain that shot through my body. It hurts so goddamn bad, but it’s better than bleeding out. Breathing heavily, I forced myself to my feet, limping toward the broken window.

Endeavor is going toe-to-toe with Skye and he seems to be holding up a shit-ton better than I was. As I watched her, my brow furrowed. Her muscles are starting to rip apart, cuts appearing across her body. Is that part of a quirk? She’s not talking, either, instead just making deep, guttural noises like… the bird brain Nomu…

Skye roared loudly, her muscles twitching as they expanded. Sweat rolled down my cheek as I held the building for support. Her power shot through the roof, her aura fluctuating like crazy. Oh, shit sticks.

“Get away from her, Endeavor!!”

His narrowed turquoise eyes glanced over at me and he huffed, holding his ground. Goddamn prideful ass fuckers.

Skye’s muscles continued to expand, her voice deepening as she roared, the sound shaking the world around us. There was a good half a second of dead silence before her body exploded from the inside out with a huge gust of wind, knocking me back against the brick wall of the building. I yeeted myself through the broken window just as a chunk of metal hit the wall where I had been standing.

I waited a few seconds until the howling wind died down before peaking around the broken window. Endeavor had blood sliding down his face from Skye’s exploded form, his eye twitching in anger. I still hate the flame fuck honestly, but at this moment, I couldn’t be fucking happier to see him.

“I told you to get away from her, flame fuck.” I released a shaky breath, sinking to my knees.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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bittykimmy13 · 5 years

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Change of Heart (GT)

Of course Ben and Lee couldn't be left out of the fun of the Print/Shot AU :') The majority of prints live in regulated communities. Ones that step out of line are put into the Mercy Program, where they are purchased by wealthy humans and treated as pets. Once an owner deems their print is "rehabilitated", the print may return to their community. After the third owner, however, the print is automatically transferred into a trinket body. Which, as we've seen, is so much WORSE. ANYWAY, this is a much lighter story compared to the past few. ENJOY :D Characters belong to me and the lovely @little-miss-maggie <3

(( More from the Print / Trinket Universe ))

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The fluorescent lights hanging above Lee did not allow him to finish the sleep he so desperately needed. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and turned his head, but the lights continued to glare through his eyelids. When he tried to roll onto his side, a deep ache shot through his body and startled him into alertness. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so sore. Memories from the night before rushed back. Raining. Three men darting out of the alley, dragging him into the shadows, beating the shit out of him. There had been no chance for him to fight back, not even a second of time to raise his hands and defend himself. He had sank down against the brick wall, and a tiny shout had come from his pocket. Ben had jumped out. And as the ache in Lee’s body spread deeper, that was the last thing he could remember. Possibilities raced through his mind. If the muggers had spotted Ben, no doubt they took him. If Ben had gotten away, it would be simple enough to track his cuff. It was the worst case scenario that made Lee shiver: in all the commotion, darkness, and rain, Ben could have been carelessly killed.

Drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, he squinted his eyes open. For a second, he thought he was in a hotel room, but the IV drip by his bed told him otherwise. The bag of fluid was labeled with a logo for Kingston Luxury Hospital. The door was wide open, and he could hear the drone of several conversations coming from a nurses’ station. When he tried to sit up, he had to suppress a groan of pain. His gaze roved the room, taking in the amenities: a large TV mounted to the wall, elegantly-carved furniture, a nightstand that held a vase of flowers, a tissue box, a glass of water, and what looked like a service pager. Now if they could just get rid of the bright fucking lights, it would be heaven. He leaned over to reach for the pager, but a twitch of movement from across the room caught his eye. Ben. Ben was on a table next to the curtained window, sitting in a clear glass cage. Relief rushed through Lee at first, but it was quick to waver. Ben was in the corner of the container, legs drawn to his chest. He lifted his head and found Lee looking at him. The expression on that tiny face was unreadable from a distance, but there was something glum about the way Ben put his chin back down on his knees. Lee croaked out a chuckle. “Must be pretty disappointing for you that I lived, huh?” Ben didn’t respond. Shocking. Lee grabbed the pager by the bed and pushed the button that would alert the nurse’s station. In no time at all, a young woman with a black ponytail came prancing into the room. She beamed at him and came to a stop by his bed, folding her hands in front of her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Rhodes,” she said. “I’m Sally. You’re up sooner than we expected, but your vitals have been looking perfectly normal, all things considered. The doctor will be along later when she’s making her rounds in this wing. I’m sure the investigator will want to speak with you as well.” Lee leaned his head back on the pillows. “What the hell happened? I can’t remember anything after I was attacked. Did they get the guys who did it?” “Still on the run. I’m sorry. And it’s not surprising that you don’t remember much. You were in bad shape by the time the ambulance reached you.” Nodding, Lee turned his gaze over to Ben, who hurriedly looked away. “Any reason in particular he’s in there?” “It’s protocol,” Sally said, her pleasant tone untouched. “When a patient is in your sort of condition and there’s nowhere else to take a print, it needs to be contained.” She gave Lee a private smile. “We don’t run a babysitting service. And well, you should know… he was showing escapee tendencies when you were found.” “No shit,” Lee said, rolling his eyes. “Trying to hide?” “Worse. His tracking cuff had been removed, and your phone was on the ground behind a dumpster. Security footage shows that it fell out of your pocket during the attack and your print dragged it behind a garbage can during the commotion. He must have gone into the settings of your phone and deactivated his cuff.” “How’s that possible? My phone unlocks with my fingerprint.” She chewed her lip and shrugged. “It gets more disturbing. The footage shows that he dragged the phone back out when those thugs were gone. While you were unconscious, he used your finger to unlock it.” “Well, isn’t that fucking nice.” Lee turned a glare toward Ben. “It’s up to you how you want to proceed about all that,” Sally went on. “But for now, focus on your recovery.” Lee breathed out a weary sigh. “How did they find him, then? His cuff was off.” There was something tentative, almost uncomfortable, about Sally’s pause. She cleared her throat. “Well, he… he didn’t run off right away. The footage shows him lingering for a while near you before he ran off. It seems he went and got someone’s attention and led them to you.” He waited for her to laugh and say she was kidding. “Yeah, okay,” Lee scoffed. “What really happened?” “No, really,” she said. “Your print flagged down a couple who were walking down the block. They were concerned to see a cuffless print without an owner in sight, so they followed him to you. They’re the ones who called the ambulance and made sure your print didn’t go anywhere.” Her words sank in slowly. Even if his head wasn’t pounding, it would have taken a while to process. “You can’t be serious.” Lee pointed at Ben. “That print? That one right there?” She giggled. “I know. It’s odd, isn’t it? But that’s what I was told. Your print hasn’t said a word since you were brought in.” Lee turned his eyes to the glass container. “So you’re saying he saved me,” he said slowly. “And you… put him in a box.” “Well, I didn’t,” Sally said, confusion tainting the corners of her smile. “Like I said, Mr. Rhodes, it’s protocol—” “Take him out of there.” Sally pursed her lips, brow pinching as though waiting for him to take back his words and say he was joking. When he did no such thing, she threaded her fingers together in front of her and laughed uncomfortably. “Sir, you’re in no condition to manage your print. Is there anything else I can do for you?” “Nope. The only thing you can do for me is take him out of there.” “Mr. Rhodes. His cuff wasn’t located in the scramble to get you here, so it would violate the general Mercy Program legislation to not have him contained in some—” “Sorry,” Lee laid in overtop her. “What I meant to say was, take him the fuck out of there and bring him to me, unless you want to wager if I can make you lose your job in three phone calls or less.” She gave an outraged little scoff, her friendly energy going out like a light. When she didn’t move, Lee lifted his eyebrows in an I’m-dead-serious manner that finally spurred her to the other side of the room. She hesitated, then reached into the open top of the glass container. Ben finally reacted, shrinking against the corner, but there was nowhere for him to go. Sally managed to get her hand around his waist and lift him out. “Where do you want him?” she asked flatly, striding back to the bed. “Nightstand.” He frowned when she came closer and he spotted a dark red gash on Ben’s arm, caked with dried blood. There were dark splotches along his skin too that could either be dirt or bruising. On top of that, he looked a shade paler than death. Lee looked at Sally in disbelief. “He’s hurt. This is a fucking hospital—why would he still be like this?” “We’re not authorized to treat prints.” Lee groaned, watching as Ben staggered away from Sally’s hand when she set him down on the nightstand. The print kept his gaze pointed downward, standing stiffly with his hurt arm clutched against himself. Lee was prepared to order Sally to help Ben, to hell with what was authorized, but when he eyed her scowling face, he had the feeling she might do more harm than good if she got her hands on Ben again. “Bring salve,” Lee said instead. “The good stuff.” Sally wavered, jaw dropping in protest. “Hey, wanna make it two phone calls or less?” Lee said gamely. “I’m feeling pretty lucky right now, near-death experience and all.” Once she hurried off, Lee propped himself up to sit in bed. He winced at the ache that mercilessly pounded his body. He had to have been in pretty bad shape if he was still feeling this much punishment. Grabbing one of the pillows stacked under his head, he set it on his lap and turned his attention to the nightstand. Ben gasped and flinched away from the approach of Lee’s hand, shaking his head pleadingly. Lee sighed, completing the motion regardless and closing his fingers around Ben’s middle. “I know you don’t like this,” Lee said. “But that cut’s gonna get infected if it doesn’t get fixed up.” After Ben was set down on the pillow, he scooted back and tucked his arm close against himself. He kept his wide eyes trained down, his little body wired with tension. Lee chewed his lip, eyeing the scrapes and grime that had gone ignored on Ben’s exposed arms. “Ridiculous,” Lee muttered, reaching aside to swipe a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “I guarantee you, this hospital is full of people whining over papercuts, and not one of these nurses could stop for one fucking minute…” He wrapped the tissue around his finger and wet the tip of it in the glass of water. Cupping his other hand around Ben, Lee could feel him shivering. Lee proceeded to wipe away the grime from his good arm, along with a patch of dirt on the side of his neck. Frustrated as he was, Lee was glad to have something to focus on besides actual conversation. Luckily, Sally came back in and offered further distraction, if only for a moment. She sulkily placed a capped bottle of salve on the bed. “Let me know when you’re done with it, please,” she said. “I’ll get into trouble if—” “Shut the door on your way out,” Lee said. With a huff, she strode out, sealing Lee and Ben in silence. “I need your arm.” Lee adjusted the tissue so that he wouldn’t be rubbing dirt into the wound. “Come on—don’t be like that. I need to clean it first.” Ben still didn’t move. Lee sighed and reached in with his other hand, gently pinching Ben’s wrist to pull his arm out. Ben’s breathing became quicker, more frantic, but he didn’t try to wrench himself away, thankfully. He merely kept his wide eyes on his arm, as though he might be seeing it for the last time. “How’d you get this anyway?” Lee asked, narrowing his eyes at the sliced flesh. Swallowing hard, Ben uttered, “Your phone w-was cracked.” Lee clenched his jaw. Gentle as he could, he cleaned the wound and the blood caked around it. With that out of the way, he released Ben long enough to grab the salve and uncap it. “This’ll sting,” Lee warned after applying a dab of salve to his fingertip. He secured Ben’s arm again and kept a firm grip, prepared for Ben to flinch away upon contact. “But it won’t feel any worse than getting sliced in the first place.” Ben’s face contorted with pain as Lee applied the salve. Hissing, Ben tried to tug his arm back, but Lee kept his stubborn hold to make sure the medicine was rubbed in. The moment Lee let go, Ben reclaimed his arm and fell to his side. Wheezing, he stared at his arm. Amazement dawned on his face as the redness of the wound began to dull. “See?” Lee said. “Not so bad. It’ll be closed up in no time.” The amazement on Ben’s face fled. “What’s the point?” “What do you mean?” A pause. Ben sat up, but his shoulders were slumped with despair. “I… I’m not going to be in this body for much longer.” He looked up, and Lee was shocked to see tears rapidly pooling in his eyes. Ben made a choked sound, his words almost lost. “So, w-what’s the point of fixing me up?” As realization dawned, Lee was speechless for once. And Ben, just as uncharacteristically, was the one to fill the silence. There were too many expressions on his face to identify in isolation: anger, sorrow, desperation, regret. “Please,” Ben croaked. “Please, don’t send me back. Even if you weren’t my third owner… if they find out I-I got my cuff off, that would mean a direct sentence to the Trinket Program.” Ben’s frantic breaths became overcome with sobs that hit Lee like punches. “I… I won’t fight anymore! I won’t do it again, j-just… please. I’ll be exactly how you want me to be. I’ll be p-perfect, I swear!” Lee flinched his hand closer, brushing his fingertips against Ben’s spine and the back of his head. Ben buried his face in his hands and ducked his head as if he was about to be snatched up. Lee’s fingers settled gently, making no move to coil around Ben’s shivering body. “You really think I’m going to turn you in?” Lee asked in a hushed voice. “Y-you… you said I was on my last chance. You said if I-I—” “Yeah, I know what I said, but…” Lee’s eyes trailed to the empty space on Ben’s wrist that the cuff normally occupied. He wondered what it must have felt like, to have a brush with freedom and decide to throw it away. “I don’t get it,” Lee admitted. “You saved me.” Ben kept his head down and sniffled. Didn’t answer. “You… you had a chance,” Lee said, desperate to follow his logic. “You got the cuff off. Why did you go looking for someone to help me?” Ben mumbled something. Lee angled himself closer, cocking his head to listen. “What?” “I couldn’t tell if you were breathing,” Ben half-shouted. Though he lifted his head, his gaze remained pointed down, uncooperative for even a second of eye contact. Scoffing, Lee shook his head incredulously. “So what?” Heaving an exhausted sigh, Ben didn’t elaborate. “I’m just trying to understand,” Lee insisted. “I thought you hated me.” Ben’s eyes finally darted up, rife with frustration. “That doesn’t mean I could leave you to die! I was the only one besides those thugs who knew you were there. If I hadn’t done something… it would be as if I killed you myself.” Lee stared until Ben lost his nerve and started to shy away. Pulling his fingertips away from Ben’s back, Lee gingerly tilted his chin up. Ben flinched, but he met Lee’s eyes again. “Thank you,” Lee said. Ben clenched his jaw. “You… you’re really not sending me to the Facility?” “No. Fuck no.” Dropping his hand, Lee shut his eyes for a moment. He could feel the drugs and exhaustion lacing his body beginning to drag him back under. He swore that Ben was starting to look the same kind of weary too, now that relief had to be settling in. “That salve is great,” Lee said. “But it takes energy from your body to do its stuff. I know you couldn’t have gotten any sleep in that thing.” He nodded at the glass case and pulled his hands away from Ben completely. “So, just stay right here. Lay down and get some rest.” Ben reacted immediately, laying down with what could only be frightened obedience. As if Lee might change his mind if he didn’t do exactly as he was told. “That… I mean, that wasn’t an order,” Lee said, face flushing. He leaned back, putting his head on the pillow behind him, and sighed. “Listen. If they come and try to put you back in that thing or take you away, just shout for me. Understand?” When Ben didn’t answer, Lee looked down at the pillow on his lap. There was still abundant fear on Ben’s face, along with a heavy dose of skepticism that Lee couldn’t blame him for having. “I mean it,” Lee said. “Understand?” Ben hesitated, then nodded. Without a word, he laid down with his back to Lee.

#gt #gt writing #mywriting #mercy shot au #print universe #amwriting #ben #lee

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ty-talks-comics · 6 years

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Best of DC: Week of March 27th, 2019

Best of this Week: Detective Comics #1000 - Various Writers and Artists

Possibly more controversial than I'm thinking it'll be, I'm glad Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo did the job of reintroducing Slam Bradley into the DC Universe. Slam Bradley, of course the way I choose to remember him, was one of DC's first characters and the precursor design to modern day Superman. He was a 1930s dick (detective in this case) who made his name in infamy with racist depictions of Chinese people being swung by their braids with toothy grins. He's likely the reason DC won't reprint some of the early Detective Comics works in a compendium.

This is without a doubt, a great celebration for one of the greatest comic book characters of all time, if not THE greatest. The difficulty in reviewing something like this, much like Action Comics #1000 (if I reviewed that one, I don't remember) is that so many stories have their ups and downs, hits or misses and there's so much ground. But some of these were so good that this book is getting an entry all on it's own this week.

He's been made better in recent years with a badass run as a side character in Ed Brubaker and Darwyn Cooke's Catwoman (2001) as a cool former police officer with a son by the name of Slam Jr. on the force. He was probably some of the best parts of his short time there and was very compelling in interactions with Selina.

Kevin Smith and Jim Lee have arguably done some of the best and WORST Batman projects ever, but through the good and the bad, both have immense talent and their tale “Manufacture for Use” added a beautiful layer to the significance of the metal plate that his emblem is made out of.

The book is simple enough, a montage of Batman fighting his greatest villains shows in the background while his alter ego, Matches Malone, has a conversation with a merchant peddling in the various pieces of gear left by villains. He has Harley hammers, crazy quilts and even freeze guns, but there's only one weapon Malone is interested in; The Gun belonging to Joe Chill. The weapon that killed The Wayne Family.

He and others had been leaving Batman clues since his first days as a hero to have him join a guild of detectives, solving unsolvable or very difficult cases and knowing that Slam is one of the detectives along with Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, The Question, Detective Chimp, Elongated Man and his wife, Sue Dibny is relieving and fantastic.

I'm glad DC hasn't shied away from him given his past history. Even his inclusion in Superman of China based on his former character, warts and all, seemed like DC was kinda ashamed of it, but here he is, as awesome as he was later in life!

Upon seeing it, Alfred questions why Bruce would keep it as a trophy, nothing the ridiculousness of The Penny and the Dinosaur, he sees the gun as strange or even perverse. Batman, however, wishes to never see it cause anyone pain again, melting and forming it into an oval adorned with the symbol of a Bat.

Batman has dedicated his life to stopping crime in Gotham at all costs, but not everyone see his methods as being right or just. Doctor Leslie Thompkins has been looking over Bruce since his parent’s murder and oped that he would take his pain and do something productive with it, actually fix Gotham, but instead she sees how vengeance has consumed him, turning him into something of a violent monster himself and she’s not wrong. They meet each other on the anniversary of his parent’s murder in Crime Alley and are beset upon by a group of teenagers whom Batman viciously slaps the hell out of. Dr. Thompkins stops him out of fear and Batman looks like the real villain here.

If that isn't chilling...

Brian Michael Bendis is a GREAT Batman writer. Checking out his 15 pages in the Batman Walmart 100 Page Giants, much like Daredevil, Batman is a character that is PERFECT for him. “I Know” drawn by frequent Bendis collaborator, Alex Maleev, is amazing. Penguin started becoming disillusioned with the meetings put together by villains like The Joker on how to finally get rid of The Batman, Penguin begins to muse about who had the money to fund Batman. I believe he proposed the idea to the others, but they all shot him down, citing times Batman showed up when Bruce was a hostage or how he “blubbered like a baby.”

Penguin didn’t let it go, however, and prepared Suicide Bomb Penguins to attack Wayne Manor while Bruce was hosting a ton of high profile Gothamites. It would have been the end of Bruce Wayne.

Warren Ellis writes some very character driven stories, but when he has to get technical, he is a master as good as any. In “The Batman’s Design” he goes over Batman’s methodology when taking on criminals, treating things like a chess game that he’s already won. He leads the criminals to a trap and plays them like a fiddle, setting off an explosion that knock out or send some flying, determining a sniper’s location and just being so terrifying that the leader just hands him a bomb switch before his ass gets destroyed.

Becky Cloonan does a great job of alternating between cool and warm tones for when Batman is in the shadows vs contending with explosions he’s setting off. Batman looks slim, but imposing regardless. This is definitely some of her best art so far!

Now… if you ask any of my friends from when I was in The Navy, they’ll tell you about how I waited in line for Batman: The Arkham Knight. I was excited. I was elated. The conclusion to an amazing trilogy of games that shaped a newfound love for the character for me! And it bloody sucked. I HATE Arkham Knight with a passion. If it’s not The Batmobile, it’s the Joker, if not the Joker, it’s the Knight himself, if not him, then Scarecrow as the shitty final villain.

I really loved the noir tone that was set by Elizabeth Breitweiser’s colors over Steve Epting’s art. Things are very dark and cool. Batman is shrouded in shadow and Doctor Thompkins acts as a small light by comparison. There is great contrast when action happens with warm tones as Batman slaps the teens and Batman standing in the shadows as Leslie and the kids are under the one light is powerful.

Suffice to say, I was not pleased when it was said that The Arkham Knight would finally be appearing in comics different than his video game counterpart, but… I dunno, I kinda like him here.

His characterization seems to be that of someone who has lived in Gotham and has seen Batman’s methods of treating the poor citizens, the weak and the sick. He sees Batman as a cancer, a darkness that needs to be exterminated for Gotham to truly thrive. The best thing, there’s precedent for this kind of character.

One of the first few arcs for Detective Comics involved a cool set of villains known as The Victim Syndicate, people who have been hurt or grievously injured in Batman’s relentless pursuit of crime. These guys put Batman’s team through the ringer, almost turning Stephanie Brown against him completely as Tim Drake had been presumed dead at the time. Another casualty of war. If I remember right, The First Victim noted that there was someone or something coming for Batman soon and if that’s the Arkham KNight, then I am excited.

The Victim Syndicate was one of James Tynion IV’s best ideas during his run and I really hope whoever the creative team is for Detective Comics thus forth lives up to the quality. Peter J. Tomasi and Doug Mahnke are both amazing, so I have high hopes if its them.

But Penguin had an epiphany. Ending Bruce Wayne would not end Batman. Batman would become focused. Driven. Possibly to the point of killing. Bruce Wayne is the only thing keeping these villains alive, so Penguin relents and never reveals what he believes he knows, until years later when Bruce is old and mute… but who says that Bruce has lost a step? He zaps Penguin who is taken away as Bruce tells him that he knew, pretty much calling him a “coward ass bitch” as he’s taken away.

Overall, while there were few misses, this collection of stories had great ideas, great characterization, heart and was just fantastic. Looking forward to another 80 years!

This one was just cute. The Batfamily interacts with each other and take a FANTASTIC family photo drawn by Tony S. Daniel. Starring, Batman, Alfred, Nightwing, Batgirl, “Robin” Damian Wayne, Red Hood, Batwoman, Catwoman, “(Red) Robin” Tim Drake, Spoiler, The Signal, Cassandra Cain Ace the Bathound and Huntress. It’s a well put together double splash page and everyone, even Bruce seems happy.

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styomi · 6 years

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Flowers and gemstones | Chapter 5 | Sweet Pea/OC

In the spirit of new content in the fandom… I’m updating early! I hope you guys enjoy Sweet Pea being a ‘lil shit’ and ‘a conflicted piece of hotness’ as my dear fellow author Vulvarity put it so colorfully xD Thanks for the beta-read, hun!

Info:

Rating: T Word count:4118 Chapter count:5/? Faceclaim: Ruby Wolfe – India Eisley Jo Wolfe – Adrian Paul Mattie – Elle Fanning

Yes, I am complete Abba trash with this title but damn, does it fit!

Ah-hah, honey honey

The Twilight Drive-In was not quite what Ruby had expected. She’d entered the truck, only to see Fred driving and after an awkward conversation about Archie’s lack of a permit, where the girl and his father laughed about it, the three worked out an easy plan. Fred would drive to his office, since he needed to get some work done, still, and Ruby would take the wheel from there. At the end of the movie, they were supposed to call Fred and see if he was done, in order to pick him up. Then, the Andrews could drop her off home before calling it a night. It all seemed like a solid plan to the teens. Both of them were glad that they wouldn’t be left to beg Archie’s friend Jughead to get them a couple of chairs once Fred drove off.

When they got to the Drive-In, Ruby took her time looking around. She’d never had a proper date, much less an occasion which would take her to a place like that. The only movies she’d watched was with Mattie or her father, either in the girl��s room or at the cinema. And then, Mattie had insisted on huddling together in a couple’s seat like two idiots, because she’d been too curious as to what booking a space like that meant for her own good. Afterwards, it had become tradition for the two girls to sit in a loveseat at the cinema, just for kicks. But, the Twilight Drive-In was definitely not a cinema.

Archie had carefully instructed Ruby where to drive the family truck, which she only struggled with for a bit due to the stick that was a tad different from her trusty old Mustang. And, once they pulled into the southernmost part of Riverdale, he directed her to get off Main Street and enter the small parking lot in front of a large screen. Sure enough, there was a sign which spelled out that evening’s showing, Mamma Mia, right in front of the turn. As Ruby parked the truck, turning the front towards the small booth in the back with drinks and popcorn like Archie requested, she had a chance to look around some more. In essence, it was a parking lot. There were a few more cars and a couple of motorcycles in the back, people buzzing around before the showing. But, other than the booth and a large screen on the other side, it was just that, a parking lot.

“Popcorn?” Archie asked, nodding towards the booth.

“Oh, yeah.” Ruby eagerly agreed and the two friends walked over, Archie instantly perking up when he saw the server behind the counter.

“Hey, Jug!” he greeted the boy in an odd beanie, which Ruby was certain seemed familiar to her for some reason. “This is Ruby, who I told you about. The girl from the Wolfe house,” the boy behind the counter examined her with a surprisingly analytical look in his pale eyes. But, he didn’t seem hostile. “Ruby, Jughead.”

“The one who’s writing a book?”

“Novel.” Both boys instantly corrected.

“Right,” Ruby nodded sheepishly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jughead. I’ve heard a lot about you,” the boy gave his friend a look which seemed accusing, more than anything. “I promise that I pressed him for details and that everything he told me was good.” The girl tried to diffuse the tension.

“Um, sure, yeah,” Jughead sounded a little awkward. “Welcome to Riverdale.” He didn’t seem to mean it. Regardless, Ruby chose to take the high road there.

“It would be awesome if you could join us for the movie, unless you’re working the whole evening?” She asked, looking between him and Archie. “I got only one side of the story, after all,” Ruby gave Jughead a mischievous smile. “I’d love to hear some embarrassing tales about this one.” She nudged Archie with her elbow and, instantly, the atmosphere changed. Jughead gave her a smirk right back.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promised. “What will it be, guys? You’re holding up the line.” Despite Archie telling Ruby that it was unlikely that Jughead would join them, the beanie-wearing teen did. They huddled together, with the girl in the middle, in the back of the truck, a few buckets of popcorn in between them and a blanket over their feet. While Archie had actually been paying attention to the movie, as he hadn’t seen it before, Jughead and Ruby took the time to whisper and get to know each other a bit better. Unsurprisingly, the boy had plenty of funny stories about his childhood friend, making the girl giggle when she wasn’t singing along to the soundtrack.

By the end of the evening, Ruby had the awkward boy’s number memorized in her phone with a promise to hang out at Pop’s sometime soon. While they didn’t have a lot in common, they did realize that there was a long list of movies both had watched and desperately needed to discuss with someone. All in all, it had been a fun evening for her, despite it definitely not being a date in the end. Ruby, in all honesty, had preferred it that way. She liked Archie well enough, but she wasn’t one to dive into anything romantic before getting to know a person better. He seemed only interested in hanging out platonically, which was right up her alley.

Ruby had always gotten along with boys better than girls. When she counted the schools she’d attended, she realized that her only real girl friend was Mattie. The teen in question wasn’t exactly girly material, either. Ruby suspected that she had her father and their mutual obsession with martial arts to thank for her ease with befriending boys, even though Jo had voiced his worries over only boys coming by their home on a number of occasions.

Mattie was awake when Ruby got home from the Drive-In and called the girl after texting her half a dozen questions to make their conversation easier. There was just something lost in the voice messages and typing for her.

“So, spill. How was it?” Mattie’s voice was eager, even though she had dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep.

“We watched Mamma Mia!” Ruby eagerly supplied and the two girls started singing to each other, hitting some painfully shrill notes that made Jo pop his head into the kitchen to check on the situation. When he saw that it was just a facetime call, he retreated again, not wanting to disturb the two. And then, Ruby started telling Mattie all about Archie and the odd new character in her life, Jughead.

The last day of the Southside Serpents working at the Wolfe house came all too soon for Ruby. She’d built a nice friendship with Toni, a strange combination of pun exchanges with Fangs and the usual push and pull with Sweet Pea. Ruby had spent more than a few hours with Toni in her room, deciding on color schemes, furniture positions and various decorations together. While the purple haired Serpent wasn’t a fan of the girly setup the room had been steered towards, she was still a huge help. She had a whole bunch of fashion and DIY magazine subscriptions on her phone, showing Ruby various options which could change her room in different ways. Mattie was ecstatic to see all the new ideas and demanded that she meet Toni one day, hopefully in person. All of their brainstorming on decoration ideas got FP to send Sweet Pea to hunt down the girls more than a few times with a disgruntled expression.

Fangs and Ruby, on the other hand, had a different dynamic. While Toni was the perfect design and clothing advisor, the boy turned out to be gossip central. Ruby had always known that most boys had an affiliation for sharing funny stories, but he was in a whole league of his own. Fangs had plenty of stories from his time with Toni and Sweet Pea as kids which he was eager to tell. By the third day of hauling stuff around the house and painting walls, the two had a number of inside jokes which pissed off Sweet Pea to oblivion once he figured them out. That was without even mentioning Fangs’ love of bad puns. If there was a person who could make Ruby crack up at a bad joke in a single second, it was definitely him. Her retaliation had required a bit of Googling, but pretty soon they had been separated when it came to carrying heavy items around due to their tendency to lose their grip on them while laughing.

The only thing Ruby regretted over those few weeks was not spending more time with Sweet Pea. He always seemed to look for an escape when they were with other Serpents, so that he wouldn’t have to talk to her. The few times they’d been forced together by a food run or Ruby directing traffic in the house their conversation had been a bit strained. For the life of her, the teen didn’t know what she’d done to cause that kind of reaction from the tall boy. At times he would be doing their usual push and pull, piling on ridiculous nicknames that made fun of her height, and then, he would be frowning angrily down at her and grunting out one-word answers to her eager questions. Ruby was definitely miffed. But, also, intrigued. She couldn’t help her own curiosity sometimes. She liked things with character, after all.

When the last day of the Serpents working at the house arrived, Ruby was on a mission. She didn’t know if she would see some of the bikers again and she wasn’t sure what kind of a situation she would be facing at school with the younger Serpents. Ruby definitely wasn’t going to be pledging a gang and she’d already heard from numerous sources that South High was very segregated. So, she remembered Mattie’s request and started her work as soon as the bikers arrived.

“Hey, Toni,” Ruby entered the kitchen where the purple haired Serpent had made herself at home with a cup of coffee. “Look good for the camera!” And she snapped a photo as soon as Toni gave a soft smile.

“Am I finally getting a contact picture?” Asked the girl.

“Sure!” And Ruby bounded off with a small wave. She’d already tricked FP and Tall Boy into snapping a photo of them, which they’d laughed off. Now, she had an image of the Serpent King and his second in command standing side by side at their bikes, looking quite intimidating. Next, she needed Gorgon, Fangs and the dreaded Sweet Pea. She was honestly fearing the last name on her list. With the quicksilver temper he had, her phone had a fifty percent chance of flying out a window or something. Gorgonhead was easy enough, the teen eager to make a scary face and point at the camera like Uncle Sam.

“Fangs,” Ruby addressed the boy, sneaking up behind him as he was attempting to open a drawer of an old wardrobe. “I’d offer my advice on that,” she pointed to his current problem. “but telling a demolitionist how to do his job is destructive criticism.” There was a moment of silence before the two completely lost it. Ruby took the chance to snap a quick picture of Fangs trying to gather himself in front of the tall antique wardrobe.

“Oh, man,” the biker didn’t even notice. “How am I going to live without you when the job’s done?” He asked, shaking his head.

“You can always text me and we can hang out?” Ruby helpfully supplied. She saw Fangs’ eyes go to the side, avoiding her gaze. That was a telltale sign that something was wrong. But, when he just shrugged and nodded, Ruby decided to give him some time and space to figure it out. “C’mon, give me your phone,” the girl asked and Fangs obliged. “Here, text me whenever so I have your contact, too.” She smiled at him and bounded off, looking for a certain tall biker. The short teen didn’t see the way Fangs’ eyes stayed on her back until it vanished behind a corner, almost sad.

Sweet Pea was glad to get out of the Wolfe house. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the home in any way. He just didn’t think that he could stand Ruby being around him any longer. In the short few weeks, which seemed like months to him, Sweet Pea had worked beside her on numerous items in her new home. She’d been nothing but kind to him, he had to admit. Nothing but nice. However, a single glance at her clothing, the house which surrounded them and the items they were carrying out had Sweet Pea’s vision going red and his brain muddled with anger.

Ruby Wolfe was nice enough, sure. But, regardless of her personality she was a rich Northsider in the end. While she might be slumming it down with the bikers who were working on her property during summer vacation, Sweet Pea knew how their little ‘friendship’ would end. She’d shown him that by repeatedly ditching cleanup in order to hang out with her little Northside boy-toy. As soon as Ruby started school at Riverdale High, she would become one of those girls. Head held high, daddy buying her expensive things and occasionally wandering over to Southside for a thrill. She’d forget that Toni had put hours into helping her pick things out for her room. She wouldn’t remember that Fangs had lent her a hand in carrying almost all of her belongings upstairs while exchanging jokes. She certainly wouldn’t recall him driving her for a food run on his bike in the afternoon. Sweet Pea reminded himself a number of times that Ruby was a privileged kid. It was best not to form any kind of attachment. Except maybe to her dog. He could be attached to Chili all he wanted, because the pooch was a wonder.

On the last day of their work at the Wolfe house Sweet Pea’s suspicions were confirmed, though. With an eager look on her face, Ruby had told all the bikers how they could take whatever item they wanted from the maybe or discarded pile, like some kind of a charity dump. He didn’t need her charity, much less her trash. Sweet Pea hadn’t taken a single thing from the Wolfe house, despite eyeing a couple of old bike parts from the garage longingly. Instead, his temper had flared and he’d sat on his bike, listening to Fangs and Toni talking excitedly about repurposing some of the items and restoring others.

It wasn’t that Sweet Pea didn’t like doing that. In fact, he’d always been good at fixing things. As a young boy he’d helped his father with numerous old bikes and cars. Then, he’d somehow gotten roped into a number of DIY projects by Toni. She’d been surprised at how good he was with his hands and sworn to secrecy by Sweet Pea with a menacing threat of bodily harm. To that day he still enjoyed working on old things. There was just something about working on an old carburetor that made his fiery temper cool down. He could spend hours playing with a piece, figuring out what exactly was wrong and tailoring odd parts in order to get it back into action. However, Sweet Pea was above charity from a rich Northsider. He wouldn’t take a single thing.

He got pissed when he saw Toni restoring an old lamp Ruby had personally given her, despite wanting it for herself according to the purple-haired girl. It was an antique which looked pretty darn good when the female Serpent was done painting it with glassware-friendly substances. It now sat on her school desk at her trailer, a constant reminder for Sweet Pea of the dump it had been taken from. Fangs, on the other hand, hadn’t said no to acquiring a new kitchen table for his abuela, calling it the score of the summer. Sweet Pea had stopped going to his place for dinner, the telltale dark wood of the charity item making his blood pressure skyrocket. He wouldn’t be a pity case for some rich Northsider.

Yet, Sweet Pea still hadn’t gotten rid of the small piece of paper with a few digits on it. He had found it in the pocket of his denim vest with the Serpents logo on the back when he’d been checking the contents before putting it in the washer. Apparently, Ruby had managed to slip the small note with her number on it and a message to ring her sometime at some point. It wasn’t that Sweet Pea hadn’t tried to get rid of it. In fact, he’d tossed it in the trash bin in his kitchen a number of times, only to fish it out later. Now, it sat in his math book, a thing he’d gotten from one of the Serpents’ juniors for his sophomore year at South High. Frankly, Sweet Pea didn’t know what to do with the number. Or, if he wanted to do anything with it.

Days passed rather quickly for Ruby. Before she even knew it, her father was pulling into their driveway with a whole bunch of fireworks in the back of their old Mustang, singing a happy tune. One would think that, being a former army man, he wouldn’t enjoy the 4th of July. However, ever since Ruby was aware of herself, Jo became utterly giddy during the holiday. He bought so many fireworks that they barely managed to set them all off in their backyard during the night. True enough, he jumped whenever someone else used their own colorful ammunition, his hand flying to his side, where his gun used to be. Yet, he still set up his own arsenal and set it off with complete glee.

“Are we going to war?” Ruby asked, leaning in the doorway and watching her father jump around the car, deciding which monstrosity to take out first. He looked up at her and smiled wide.

“Oh, we’re going to war, honey,” Jo shot back. “I’m going to announce to the whole town that I’m back in my all former glory.” Ruby shook her head, but walked down the front steps regardless, Chili following. He eagerly rushed to the car, sniffing and trying to see if anything inside was meant for him. Jo took out a ball from the front seat, showed it to the eager dog and then chucked it as far as he could towards Fox Forest. Chili tore after it, wheezing in happiness.

“You’ve unleashed the monster.” Ruby chuckled, grabbing one box of fireworks and taking it to the porch.

“He likes it and we both know it.” Jo retaliated, carrying his own load of colorful tubes.

“You’re an unleashed monster, as well.” His daughter shot back with a grin.

“Says the girl who scared all the kids away from our building on Halloween.” So, Ruby went a little crazy on Halloween. So what? It was normal to do so. It was completely normal to scare kids during the holiday. It wasn’t her fault that the youngest ones couldn’t take it and ran back to their mothers, crying. It wasn’t her fault that the others were cowards and couldn’t pass her maze of horror doom and get to the good candy.

“They were spineless,” Ruby grumbled. “You’re supposed to scare them on Halloween.” Jo sighed as they continued to carry fireworks to the porch.

“Not enough to cry,” he was using his fatherly voice. “And certainly not enough to make them avoid our home on their second run.”

“Hey, you were happy eating all the candy.” She shot back.

“That I was,” Jo grinned, letting sleeping dogs lie for once. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with my workshop.” And he bounced away with a devilish smirk. Ruby slapped her forehead, knowing that her father wasn’t up to any good.

Ruby’s suspicions were confirmed when Chili started barking like mad, running at the iron gates of their property that afternoon. She poked her head out of the window, seeing the Sheriff’s car parked out front.

“Chili! Be cool!” The girl shouted and rushed down the stairs to greet the policeman. By the time she had the door open, the Sheriff was already walking up the front steps of their porch.

“Ruby, hello,” Tom Keller greeted with a friendly smile. “Is Jo around?” He eyed the pile of fireworks on their porch with a wary look. Ruby had a feeling that she knew what this visit was about.

“He’s in the shop out back,” then, she tried to diffuse the situation. “I swear that they’re all legal.” When the Sheriff gave her a dubious look, Ruby sighed. “He does this every year. I checked all of them, God’s honest truth.”

“Where is this shop exactly?” Sheriff Keller asked. Ruby smiled, waving him over and started leading the way. Chili followed them, his new ball in his mouth, slobbering happily.

“Jo’s secret shack of wonders.” Ruby introduced in a deadpan voice when they reached the small building, similar to a garage, with closed doors and an ominous sound of metal being cut coming from inside.

“God, he hasn’t changed at all.” Sheriff Keller sighed. Then, he pounded on the door with his fist, making them shake.

“He’s worse, if my mom’s stories are anything to go by,” Ruby laughed. “I’ll leave you to it. If you’d like coffee after that, I’ll be at the house.” She tossed over her shoulder. The last thing she heard before calling Chili to come back with her was the Sheriff asking her father if he was mad. Ruby could answer that question without thinking. Yes, on the 4th of July her father was quite mad.

Ruby had texted Toni first, asking if the girl had any plans for the holiday. And, she’d gotten a quick reply, as always, saying how the purple haired Serpent was planning on setting off some fireworks down at the quarry with the guys. Regardless, Ruby invited her over if she wanted to hang out later. Toni didn’t make any promises, saying that the guys usually brought booze and stayed the night at the quarry, not being sober enough to ride until morning. For some reason, the image of Fangs, Toni and Sweet Pea drunk got Ruby giggling.

Next, the girl texted Archie and the new contact in her phone, Jughead. The former never replied, but the latter told her that he could come over if she wanted to pick him up at Pop’s, because he was on foot and the Wolfe house was on the other side of the town. Ruby readily agreed, after yelling to Jo that she was having a friend over for the evening. The man offered only a muffled agreement from his workshop, hammering stopping for a second. So, Ruby grabbed the keys to the Mustang and allowed Chili to hop into the front seat.

Entering Pop’s reminded her of all the times she’d gone there with Sweet Pea. She had to open the door herself this time, after all. The teen easily found Jughead on the far left of the small diner, sitting with his laptop open. And, instantly, her memory clicked into place.

“I remember where I know that beanie from!” Ruby exclaimed, sliding into the seat on the other side of Jughead without a proper greeting. He looked over the top of the laptop, face illuminated by the light of his screen.

“Hello to you, too,” he sarcastically remarked. “Wait, you know my beanie from somewhere?”

“Yeah, I came here with one of the guys working on our house,” Ruby chose to leave Sweet Pea’s name out of the whole mess. She’d gotten the feeling that Jughead wasn’t a big fan of the biker gang. “I remember thinking that it’s a cool beanie when I saw you sitting here.” She laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh, um,” the boy was as awkward as always. “If you say so.” He replied with a small shrug. Ruby nodded.

“Super cool,” she told him. “Dad and I were gonna get some burgers for dinner, have you already eaten?”

“Do you really need to ask me if I want food?” Jughead laughed, finally in his element.

“Silly me.” Ruby hopped up, waving off his offer to pay for dinner. She just asked him what he wanted and went to the counter to order takeaway.

That’s all for now folks!

How did you guys enjoy the premiere? I found Archie’s car totally bitchin’ and I’m a bit sad about the dog abuse (Poor Hot Dog and poor Vegas!)

Here if the taglist (still open): @enticinghell@projectcampbell@sweetscamille@xoxodege@mlvgren@this-is-the-way-it-ends @yerawizardharry99 @dinglemember

And, you can find the other chapters and my other work by visiting this Masterlist.

Let me know how you liked it!

#styomi #fanfiction #writing #riverdale #riverdale oc #riverdale aesthetic #riverdale drabble #riverdale fanfiction #sweet pea #sweet pea x oc #sweet pea oc #sweet pea drabble #sweet pea aesthetic #sweet pea fanfiction #ruby wolfe #ruby wolfe aesthetic #bansheehime #the wolfe series #flowers and gemstones

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mwolf0epsilon · 7 years

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League of Legends - Rakan’s Big Day

Summary: Vastaya magic and Fae magic do not mix well, as Xayah and Rakan soon find out when the charmer is hit by one of Lulu’s most powerful spells during a match.

[Inspired by @tinypancakes super amazing and cute Giant Rakan fanart! I’ve always had a thing for making my favourite characters BIG so having one of the best champs of all time turn into a giant lovebird? That’s right up my alley!]

---

Xayah had trouble understanding Yordles. A simple enough concept right? She didn't get gist of then, their overly friendly and sociable nature, their quirky personalities, their overall nauseating cuteness.

It made no sense to her how this species had not died out while the Vastaya were under threat.

Human favoritism was just...Beyond reasonable comprehension.

Regardless of all this, they still beat faeries. Nothing was more annoying than the Fair Folk.

As it turned out, the world had a very very bad sense of humor when it came down to it, so Xayah was met with her worst nightmare in terms of complete and utter annoyance.

A Yordle that associated herself with faeries.

Lulu was perhaps the biggest pest Xayah had ever met.

Her bubbly happy-go-lucky personality.

Her love of small furry creatures and cupcakes.

Her love for turning people into small furry creatures and cupcakes...It was endless, how sickeningly cheery she was! But nothing was worse than how Rakan saw the little misfit…

For, unlike Xayah, Rakan had no problem with Yordles. Found them entertaining even! And Lulu? He was actually friends with Lulu!

Which meant Xayah was forced to deal with her on a regular basis!

It was torture!

Of course Rakan didn't get that.

Yordles, faeries...Gods above! Xayah hated them all! Especially their brand of magic!

Yordles were far too simplistic, incapable of seeing true potential like human mages, while faeries were too wild, too unpredictable. Unstable.

She wouldn't trust them as far as she could throw them…

So when she and Rakan were assigned to go on a match with Lulu and two other bland misfits, Xayah didn't think much other than about how glad she was that the Yordle wouldn't be in her peripherals for more than ten minutes.

And then, just as things usually tended to go sour, during a team fight to push the Middle Lane, Lulu had cast her Ultimate, intent on boosting their Top Laner, when Rakan got in the way unexpectedly…

Xayah was currently standing under the shade that her now gigantic mate cast upon her and the Elder Summoner that had come to figure out a way to reverse the damage done. Even with the hood covering most of his face he seemed stumped.

“I’m sorry you two, but there really isn’t anything I can do here.” he said, one hand resting idly at his hip while the other rubbed under his fuzzy chin. “Fae magic is a tricky type of sorcery.”

“That would be because fae are malevolent tricksters.” the female Vastayan retorted sourly. Humans were so clueless sometimes...Of course fae magic would be hard for them to comprehend!

“Well, I’m not really complaining. I’m really digging the view!” Xayah had to crane her neck upwards to look at Rakan’s face. His expression was one of complete glee, not at all bothered by his current predicament. “Not to mention how cute you’re looking babe.”

The rebel glared up at her counterpart, ears lowering as a sign of great displeasure at the choice of words.

Cute?

Her?

Never!

If anything she was a badass, badasses were not cute!

“Aaaand there’s that pout I like. Looks waaaay more adorable now that you’re so tiny~” Rakan was enjoying this far too much, she did not like it at all.

“I’m not the one who’s small Rakan.” she reminded bitterly as the male vastayan leaned in to get a better look at her. She could feel her feathers standing slightly when his face got close enough that his breathing was actually noticeable.

Hard not to take something of the sort into account when you were being blasted by warmth. “Urgh! Your breath smells horrible!”

Her partner raised an eyebrow at her, before backing off a bit to check. He apologized when he realized he smelled faintly of Honeyfruits.

They tasted amazingly but they smelled fairly bad to be honest.

“Well, I see you have this under control miss Xayah.” the Elder Summoner said as he turned to leave “I’ll leave you in charge of keeping Rakan under your care until this issue resolves itself.”

“What? No! You can’t just leave! You’re supposed to know how to fix this!” the rebel exclaimed, trying to follow the man only to pause when he raised a hand to stop her.

“I really am sorry Xayah, but Fae magic is just...unpredictable. Wild Growth isn’t a permanent spell, I do assure you...But as you know, the Vastaya produce their own natural magic. Rakan’s body is simply boosting the spell on its own. Eventually the effects will just fade.” and with that said the summoner walked away without another word.

Xayah was alone in dealing with this mess.

How she despised Lulu and her rotten trickery!

“Is this...Really bothering you that much?”

Xayah turned around at the sound of Rakan’s uncertainty. She was met with a furrowed brow and lowered ears.

Rakan looked to be a bit less relaxed now, his eyes full of worry and a little sadness.

It occurred to the female vastayan that perhaps she’d given her mate the wrong impression.

“Oh honey...No it’s not. It’s not that it’s...Yes.” she sighed, looking down at her feet before scratching the back of her neck. “But it’s not because of you.”

“Then...What is it about?” Rakan asked, once again leaning closer so as to make proper eye contact. It looked a bit weird when he had to practically lay down to do it.

Without hesitation, Xayah walked closer so as to touch his cheek, feeling a little bit of surprise at how warm he felt. She chalked it up as a side effect of being a giant.

“I just don’t trust fae magic. I don’t want you to get hurt because that little yordle witch wasn’t careful with her stupid stick.” she confessed.

“Awww you worry about me! That’s so sweet!” It was odd how she could feel his muscles move as he spoke, as well as the reverberating of his voice against her hand, but it didn’t feel too bad.

She shook her head at her mate and suppressed a smile.

“Of course I care. You always get yourself into trouble.” Most of which she helps getting him into, which to be honest Rakan never really seems to mind. Some of his acts of mischief however, she has nothing to do with. Like when he tried to steal chocolate on that ridiculous human festival, the one with the cards full of poems and heart shapes.

Needless to say that day had not gone well for him. Yordles could apparently be vicious if you tried to steal sweets from them.

“I live on the wild side. Keeping out of harm's way is just so dull!” He was grinning, she could count each individual slightly sharp tooth from her position.

Anyone else would have found that intimidating.

Xayah did not. She trusted Rakan to not go too overboard with his current condition.

“Very true.” she agreed, sitting down besides his face. “However I wouldn’t really recommend dancing or running around in your current size. You’d probably cause a bit of trouble.”

“Ah...But that means I have to sit around all day until I’m normal sized again!” Rakan looked absolutely horrified at the thought of this.

“I’m sorry baby, but I don’t want you getting kicked out for destroying the Institute of War. I’d miss you if that happened.” She patted him on the nose which, in hindsight, she should have realised was a mistake.

Rakan seemed to have a reply ready but he paused, eyes widening and ears falling flat against his skull before he scrunched up his face. The female rebel looked up in alarm, worried for a second that something was wrong before realising what was coming.

She backed up quickly but failed to give herself and Rakan space before he loudly sneezed, the burst of air sending her flying through the garden towards the path that lead back towards the main buildings.

Xayah let out an undignifying screech as she felt her body flip about in the air, before she collided with a much softer surface than the cobbled steps she’d been headed for.

After taking a few breaths and sitting up, she found herself sitting on the palm of her mate’s hand.

In the charmer’s defense, he looked adorably sheepish.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Xayah realized he must have thrown himself abruptly to catch her “Sensitive nose.”

She blinked owlishly at him, feathers all standing on edge as she recovered from the rush of adrenaline. That could have ended poorly had Rakan not reacted immediately.

“Note to self, no booping your nose…”

The abnormally larger male smiled before laughing, raising her up so that he could hold her close to his face.

He seemed to be inspecting her before slowly nuzzling his face against her body in a display of affection.

The relief in Rakan’s eyes was evident, she imagined the sight of her ragdolling through the air might have been quite a bit of a fright for him.

“Lets not go for any more improvised flying lessons.” she leaned into the warmness of his face. His feathers felt very fluffy, more so than usual.

“Yeah...Unless I’m there to catch you.” The charmer agreed, content with nuzzling his mate. He definitely enjoyed being able to hold her it seemed.

“You’d catch me every time I fell wouldn’t you?”

“Always.”

#Eps Writes:#League of Legends #Rakan and Xayah #Giant Rakan #GT League

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openupblackwidow · 7 years

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The Suns of Gunshots Ch. 2

Fandom: BTS Characters: OC/Reader & BTS: Suga, Jimin Genre: Thriller Rating: M - Violence & Death Length: 3191 Words Summary: After being saved by your friends, you find yourself swept up in a whirlwind of an unwanted adventure on Purge night. What will you do when a friend’s life is put in danger because of you? Author’s Notes: Please be aware that this story contains mature content (mostly violence), as it is a Purge related fanfic. It could potentially trigger some people, so please proceed with caution. This is my first time writing something with a lot of action and something dark like this as I normally write fluff. All feedback is greatly appreciated and welcome,within reason (don’t just tell me you hated it without giving something constructive that I can work with). Chapter One

The two bikes pulled slowly out of the dead end alley, the heads of their drivers twisting left and right, looking up and down the one way street to see that it was clear. With my arms wrapped tightly around Yoongi’s waist, as I too peered around the newly abandoned street. Just moments ago, a large black van with five young men I attend university with had sat near the end of the road. Now, nothing but a chilling breeze met us. The only sign that life had recently vacated the street remained in the form of the small pool of liquid on the asphalt from the van. I could still hear Jin’s words echoing back at us. “Be careful. See you there,” they’d whispered in a caring manner.

I still didn’t know exactly where there was. The loop these men had did not include me in it, and that frightened me. I wanted to trust them. After all, we were all friends, spent time together, but no one was telling me anything. I didn’t know why I was still alive, I didn’t know where they were taking me, or why they’d even had the heart to protect me like this. I hadn’t asked them to put their lives in danger for me, and sure, some would say it’s what friends would do. Purge night changed everything, though. Friend turned on friend, family on family. This was the one night a year you found out where loyalties rested within others. Some people were hardcore for the Purge, and if you weren’t, that put you on their list. Others kept to themselves on the night, locking themselves away in their safe rooms, while others still cared enough to extend a helping hand to those in need.

Every bone within me wanted to believe that’s what my friends were doing now, helping me because they cared. They’d never been malicious people before. Sure, they punched each other’s arms and when one did something wrong, they had no problem letting him know, but they seemed to genuinely love each other and other people, for the most part. I could still remember the way Taehyung’s arms had wrapped around me and he seemed genuinely thrilled to see I was alive. Surely that had to say something, right?

Then again, the small, pessimistic part of my mind said they were planning on taking me somewhere to torture me. I’d heard horror stories about people being tortured, experiencing a slow death on Purge night. Though, it was hard to really know the truth, since the people sharing the stories were still alive. Regardless, I still wasn’t sure I could fully trust them, even if my feelings told me I should.

That’s what made this whole situation more awkward than it should have been, my feelings. I hadn’t told anyone, not even my best friend, but I’d been denying my growing feelings for the man I wrapped my arms around. I don’t know what it was about him that first lured me in. There was something about his eyes, something that said he’d seen things, experienced things that had hurt his soul more than anyone could fathom. Perhaps it was his grumpy nature, the way it made me smile at times, because it would lead to him snapping at one of the younger boys when they were goofing off too much at study group. Whatever it was, the butterflies in my stomach couldn’t have been worse with their timing. My life was on the line. This wasn’t exactly the right time to be getting giddy because I was pressed up against my crush.

The bikes inched forward slowly and as quietly as they could as we grew nearer to the mouth of the road. Jimin pulled ahead, once again leading the way and making sure it was clear of immediate signs of danger. I watched as his head turned, first scanning the street, then looking up at the buildings, checking that windows and doors looked clear. The two men’s gazes met and they seemed to share a silent conversation before Yoongi shook his head. “It’s too dangerous,” he mumbled at the other.

“It’s the best option we have. We’ll be less noticeable going that way. We passed by earlier when we were coming this way and the place is dead, pitch black. It’s better that we’re off the streets and the trees will keep larger vehicles from following us. We have to go that way.”

I looked between the two, wondering what way they were speaking of. It didn’t exactly sound like an ideal path to take, what with the pitch blackness and the supposed trees within it. It almost sounded like we would be rolling through a forest in the middle of the city, which was totally ridiculous.

Or so I thought until we pulled up to one of the entrances of the park in the center of the city. Jimin was right. There were no path lights on to light up the sidewalks like usual. There were no couples strolling by holding hands and occasionally giving each other a peck on the lips. The sounds of children playing were simply ghost echoes in my mind as my eyes stared into the darkness. My body shivered in fear and my arms subconsciously wrapped tighter around Yoongi’s waist as I stared through the gates.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Chim,” he murmured just above a whisper. My gaze lingered on the back of his head, wondering if it was my sudden grasp of his body that had made him speak the words, but he didn’t acknowledge me, simply continued to stare at Jimin’s face as we idled there.

“We’ll be okay. We’re here now, we may as well tread forward. Just keep your lights off and stick to the path. We’ll be out in five minutes tops if we steer right.”

I swallowed a lump forming in my throat and leaned away from Yoongi as he reached for the weapons on his back. He pulled the bow from his shoulders and his gaze peered over it at me. “Know how to shoot?”

Truthfully, I didn’t, but fear had made me believe I could do anything as I nodded my head. The weapon was passed into my hands, freeing up his back as one of my arms wrapped back around to hold on, while the other cradled the bow. I silently prayed I wouldn’t be forced to learn how to shoot and that our lives wouldn’t rely on me, because we would certainly be doomed in that case, but what could I do now? I’d already said I could do it. I couldn’t just back out of it.

With a hesitant sigh, Yoongi pulled forward, following behind Jimin. We started out slow, rolling through and listening for any signs of life, but all we were met with were the sighs of the trees. Even the animals that usually scurried to and fro were out of sight, protecting themselves from those who thirsted for blood. As we wheeled our way forward, our eyes adjusted and the familiar path ahead became more visible, allowing the two men to speed up as we wove around the park, seeking out the other side.

I glanced down at my watch, lit up gently in the darkness. We had to be getting close to the other side by now. Jimin had said it would take five minutes, and it’d already been three and a half. Surely any moment we would start to see the familiar glow of the street lights and be on our way full force once again. I glanced to the right, the side Jimin was leading on, and noticed the large park pond just ahead. I remembered happier times, fishing there and skipping stones with my father when I was younger. Now it was still, only quick glimpses of the moonlight breaking through the darkness of the tree tops to alert of its presence.

It was as I was looking away that I heard it, the sounds of engines roaring from behind, and soon they were followed by a flood of headlights. “Shit,” I heard Yoongi mutter. “It’s them! Go, Chim! Step on it!”

Obeying his older friend, our bodies lurched forward as power was put into the bikes and we began to pick up speed, but we’d been too slow. The group of bikes was closing in on us quickly, faster than had been expected. My hand clung to Yoongi, my cheek pressing into his back. It was only because of this that I heard his words.

“You have to shoot them, ___! You have to use your knees to hold onto me and shoot at them!” he called against the wind.

“I can’t!”

“You have to try!”

He fell quiet and I sighed, sitting up and doing as he said, pressing my knees against his thighs and carefully slipping away. I pulled an arrow from the quiver and with shaking hands, tried to set it with the bow, but it was no use as I fumbled and failed several times.

“We’ll split up!” Jimin called from beside us now, clearly picking up on the fact that I couldn’t do this to save us. I felt a pang hit my stomach at the thought of how completely useless I was being to the two men who’d done so much for me.

“Fine, we’ll see you back at the place!” As we pulled away, I saw Yoongi look in the direction of his friend. “Be careful, Chim!” he called out to him. A hand in the air was the last we could see as he veered off to the right, the bike speeding up faster.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching a pair of headlights chase us, while a small group of others followed after Jimin, never losing any ground. I continued to watch as a gleam of light bounced off a gun that fired, creating a brief spark like fire, or the sun in the black night. My eyes watched as I heard a pop and saw what I could only imagine to be a body flying through the air, only to land out of my sight.

“Jimin!” I screamed, hot tears welling up in my eyes as more gunshots fired and I imagined the end of my friend. He was out numbered and alone. There was no one there to back him up, no one there to save him. I convinced myself of the worst. Jimin was dead. He was dead and it was my fault. I couldn’t help us when they needed me most. I couldn’t do anything right it seemed.

Yoongi, however, had managed to put considerable distance between our pursuers and ourselves. We’d made it far enough that the soft glow of the street lamps lit up in the near distance. We were almost there when a boom sounded, and before I knew what was happening, I was tumbling through the park grass, the weapon falling away from my hold. The wind had been knocked from my body as my dizzy gaze stared up into the darkness above.

“Come on,” someone whispered as a hand pulled me up to my feet. “Keep moving, ___,” Yoongi worded.

My hand slipped easily into his, holding it tightly as we took off running before I really had time to find the ground again. “But the bow and arrows!” I worried I’d lost them forever, but when I turned back around, I saw the quiver on his back and the bow in his free hand as we ran into the street and turned into a nearby alley. The sounds of the bikes grew louder as they closed the distance between us.

In the darkness of our new hiding spot, Yoongi pulled his black leather coat from his back and shoved it onto my arms. “Wear this. Don’t move a muscle. Breathe slowly through your mouth. Don’t gasp, don’t speak, don’t cry. You can do this.”

I had no choice but to obey my protector as my arms slid into the coat and he pulled the hood over my head. My mind wandered what he would do, his skin milky white and his silver hair cutting through the night like a knife. He would surely be seen. He backed me up against a dumpster, forcing me to curl up into a sort of ball and shuffling a few full trash bags around me before he darted further down the alley. I wondered if this was his way of getting rid of me, leave me to fend for myself while he made a getaway. It was a genius idea, really.

Regardless of his plan, I did as I was told, breathing slowly from my mouth and taking care not to make any noises that might give me away. It was difficult to keep my teeth from chattering against one another as I sat there huddled up in my dark corner. Headlights flooded the dark alley and a shadow appeared. It walked slowly, taking care to make sure it didn’t pass up any potential hiding places. I felt the dumpster lurch behind me, and listened as the lid was raised and the person poked around inside, probably expecting to find someone within.

I watched as the man walked by, glancing in my direction, but my face was hidden by a curtain of dark hair and the black hood. It was then that I realized I must look something like one of the trash bags I was surrounded by, and this gave me hope that we would pull through. I watched as the man walked further and my breath caught in my throat as I noticed he had stopped and was looking at something. I could only imagine it was Yoongi.

Distracted by the threat, I hadn’t noticed my head had risen and my breathing had increased. I didn’t notice a second person approaching until he was upon me, pulling me up to a standing position.

“Gotcha! Shame, you’re pretty cute, but you’re hanging out with those guys, so you’re no good to me.”

He pulled a knife from his pocket and I watched as the blade slung out. Despite my best efforts to wriggle free, his hold across my chest was tight and unrelenting. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, the way the knife rose through the air toward my throat, the way a single hot tear rolled down my cheek, the sound of a scream, followed by a prick to my back.

The knife clattered to the ground and I felt myself go free. I stepped forward quickly and looked behind me, watching my captor fall to the ground with an arrow protruding through his chest. I didn’t care that I’d been slightly cut by the weapon, I didn��t care that I was staring at a dead man at my feet. Without thinking, my legs took off at a run, headed straight for the man with the bloodied lip and beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

With little thought, my arms flung around Yoongi’s neck, my face burying in his chest as I clung to him. It took a second before a single strong arm wrapped around my waist and held me for a moment.

“Thank you,” I whispered into his shirt.

His voice was softer than usual, kinder than it’d been all night as he whispered. “That’s the second time tonight. Let’s not make a habit of this, yeah?” he teased.

For a moment, we were still, simply remained in the embrace until he finally pulled away with a sigh. His hand slipped into mine as he tugged me down the alley, toward the two bikes that had been left behind by his victims.

“Wait,” I whispered, tugging at his hand. “We have to go back for Jimin.”

He groaned and shook his head. “We can’t. We need to keep moving, get to safety. Jimin is capable of taking care of himself. He’ll be okay.”

I didn’t believe him though. If by some miracle, he’d managed to escape with his life, he’d probably been hurt. All I could imagine was his body on the ground, in pain, hoping that Yoongi and I would return to help him. “Yoongi, please,” I begged quietly.

He seemed to contemplate my request before he sighed in a grumpy manner. “Fine, but if there’s any signs of trouble lingering there, we’re splitting, okay?”

I nodded and together we approached the bikes and mounted one. Like before, my arms slipped easily around his waist as he traced our steps back to the park in hopes of finding our friend. As we grew closer, Yoongi killed the lights and slowed, our eyes scanning the area for any signs of life but finding none. Taking a deep breath, we went back into the park and in the direction we’d last seen Jimin.

A safe distance away, we parked the bike and took to our feet, looking for the other. Squinting through the darkness, I knelt down, hoping that I would be able to catch sight of the form of a body on the ground, but instead, I found something much worse.

“Yoongi!” I whispered in his direction, watching as he hurried over. My finger extended to the dark spot that tainted the grass, my stomach dropping as I looked up at him. The blood trailed toward the pond, leading us to follow it right up to the water’s edge.

“Jimin!” I softly called over the surface, but Yoongi’s hand clasped against my mouth and he shook his head. Just off in the near distance of the road, we could hear a motorbike slowly circling around the park, probably looking for signs of us.

A finger touched Yoongi’s lips to shush me as he slowly led me away. We’d almost made it back to our stolen bike when the sound returned, much closer this time. I found myself pulled into Yoongi’s chest as he pressed his back into a tree trunk, his gaze looking in the direction of the sound on the other side. His dark jacket still on my shoulders shadowed us in the night as the bike passed by. He didn’t release me when it left, though. Instead, we remained in an awkward, but comfortable embrace as my gaze drifted up to find his.

“We… We should go,” I stumbled over my words, realizing the lustful temptation that echoed in my mind, encouraging me to take his lips in my own. I scolded myself, reminded myself the longer we stood there, the longer we were in danger of being caught.

He nodded and we returned yet again to the bike, getting on and bringing it to life. As we sat there for a moment, I said a little prayer for Jimin, that his soul would rest peacefully, or he would manage to survive the night and get to a hospital first thing in the morning. At this rate, it was all I could do as we pulled away from the park without looking back.

#bts #suns of gunshots #chapter two #my writing #masterlist #purge #fanfic #suga #yoongi #jimin

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bakechochin · 5 years

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The Book Ramblings of April 2019

In place of book reviews, I will be writing these ‘book ramblings’. A lot of the texts I’ve been reading (or plan to read) in recent times are well-known classics, meaning I can’t really write book reviews as I’m used to. I’m reading books that either have already been read by everyone else (and so any attempt to give novel or insightful criticisms would be a tad pointless), or are so convoluted and odd that they defy being analysed as I would do a simpler text. These ramblings are pretty unorganised and hardly anything revolutionary, but I felt the need to write something review-related. I’ll upload a rambling compiling all my read books on a monthly basis.

At Swim-Two-Birds - Flann O’Brien I’m not going to call this a postmodern text, mainly because the term puts a sour taste in my mouth but also because all the descriptions of this text as ‘postmodern’ are worded to make it seem that this definition is incidental, and that O’Brien wasn’t setting out to write a text of the postmodern era. This somewhat softens the blow of the fact that I, a resolute advocate of the romantic and the grotesque, should indulge in something as heinous as postmodernism. This is an odd book composed of lots of different parts in lots of different odd ways. I tried to put it alongside The Third Policeman, and figured that Policeman was my preferred read because it had linear storytelling, but I had to alter this statement because this book technically has linear storytelling too - the only problem is, the storytelling is fragmentary and scattershot as shit. Some people will inevitably call this the book’s major strength and then castigate me for having the very AUDACITY to criticise the book when I clearly don’t have a clue as to what constitutes a good read, and then I remember why I don’t like postmodern texts. But I digress. This is a labyrinthine book, and my attempts of describing its exact structure may very well come across as comically obtuse, but for what it’s worth I’ll give it a shot: a student in Dublin writes a novel in which a novelist writes into existence a multitude of characters, who rebel against said novelist by writing their own pieces of literature to alter the course of their realities and break free of their archetypes. This is an incredibly well-written book, because O’Brien is a fucking genius who won’t let any scrap of information go to waste in his world-building and who will explore every possible element of an idea to spin some truly fantastic fucking yarns. (I also want to give a special commendation to one of my favourite lines of all time, in which a club-footed character’s rhythm of walking is described as ‘iambic pentameter’; that's so fucking good). The temptation now is to argue that all the great aspects of the book’s writing are entirely separate from the postmodern aspects, but there are some moments in which the postmodern experimental writing nonsense that we’ve come to expect fortuitously dovetails with what I like about the book; for instance, there are instances in which our student author abandons chunks of his writing that he deems to be slow and boring, and replaces it with streamlined lists detailing the events of the plot. We must stop a second, on this point, to examine exactly how the sausage is made with this ramble writing process; in my previous book reviews, I’ve criticised books for skimming over important elements of the plot via a dismissive narrator for fucking up the pace, but in this instance I’m totally down with such nonsense, not in the name of postmodernism, but in the name of streamlining the book and cutting out some of the unnecessary extraneous fat. The comedy in the book is subdued (perhaps less overtly amusing than that which can be found in The Third Policeman) and mainly derives from the absurdity of characters crossing paths and disparaging one another, with gunslingers and fairies and grand characters from Celtic mythology all playing play cards, and there’s a strange encapsulation of the Irish spirit in everyone’s long rambling conversations about not much at all. The best content is to be found within the works of our student author; the actual life of said student is not as compelling as one might have hoped, for whilst it is written with the same high quality as the rest of the book, the events that it is describing are rather dull in comparison, and in any case did not live up to Dylan Thomas’ description as being ‘loud, dirty [and] boozy’. I can’t help feeling that I haven’t been able to capture the magnitude of this book in so measly of a ramble, so for what it’s worth, go and pick it up for yourself. Just be aware that you will, at some point, have to slog through deliberately turgid and daft staves of old Irish lays, and it will only occasionally be graciously interrupted by another character. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: YES, SO LONG AS YOU KNOW WHAT YOU’RE GETTING INTO

Complete Short Stories - Saki In my ramble on Dahl I blindly said that Saki’s work predicted Dahl’s brand of black comedy despite knowing very little about Saki’s writing, and upon now having read Saki’s short stories I can say that this statement holds true as far as comedy goes, but not in terms of said comedy being black comedy. Indeed, I think that these stories will become progressively less black as time will go on, and the special high-class demographic satirised in the stories dwindle from contemporary society, or at least evolve into a different form than that which is presented in these pages. Like Dahl, Saki is clearly very engrossed in a particular social circle or group of people, so much so that he is able to perfectly and amazingly depict their forms and their foibles, but when Dahl wrote about suspicious law-dodging rural folk or cunning sorts getting one over on the system, Saki delves into the lives of the Edwardian English social elite; the blurb compares Saki’s setting to those written about by Wilde, but Wilde is on another fucking level when it comes to heavy-handed satire and ludicrous sensationalism. These stories are safer than the shit you’ll find in The Picture of Dorian Gray, but no less entertaining. The focus of the stories rarely deviates from the Edwardian elite (and when they do, the stories are often a tad forgettable as a result), but the form that the comedy takes varies a tad from story to story. Some of the stories are centred on one specific character, being structured like a monologue or a very one-sided conversation from that character’s perspective, and in these cases the comedy arises specifically from the intricacies of the character. The blurb proudly boasts of Reginald and Clovis, both of whom are great characters (though perhaps more similar to one another than different); Reginald’s stories make up Saki’s earliest work, and suffer inasmuch as their reliance on rather specific erudite references that aren’t exactly instantly recognisable for the modern reader, and Saki has a strange habit of injecting a mention of Clovis into miscellaneous stories that he really doesn’t seem to belong in, but regardless of these niggles there is much to recommend in these stories, for the two characters run rings around their peers and continuously amuse with their matter-of-fact responses to dire situations. A lot of the comedy was in the vein of overt farce, which surprised me a tad; I really ought to have seen it coming, because plunging lofty characters into base or ludicrous scenarios is the easiest way to punch holes in their inflated egotistical self-images, but I really didn’t expect stories involving people (supposedly) magically turning into wolves or deceptions about killer butlers. This was an especially jarring turn of events, considering that some of the earlier stories in the collection were farcical but in a rather subdued way, with cases of mistaken identity or bizarre unexplainable turns of events; the fact that the social elite were the ones experiencing such ridiculous fates tied in very well, not just because of the simple juxtaposition between serious proper people engaged in shitshows straight out of a pantomime, but because the escalation of such scenarios are facilitated by the characters’ high levels of income. I did still very much enjoy the more farcical stories, even if they were not what I was expecting. In the vein of Dahl, there were a number of great black comedy twists in the collection, usually about turns of fate sending hapless fools up shit creek, or animals (and occasionally aunts) being abruptly murdered, and they are unanimously funny because they come as a pleasant shock and don’t rely on knowledge of Edwardian living. If nothing else, a snort can always be had at Saki’s character names, which I can only assume are deliberately ridiculous and over-the-top; I remember reading that Wilde had a selection of family names that he would repeatedly use in his fiction, for he was always in danger of using the name of a real-life upper-class family who would not take kindly to having their family names appropriated for satirical caricatures of upper society, but Saki seems to have avoided this problem by using names that no one in reality could possibly fucking have. Overall, I’d especially recommend the stories in the collections Beasts and Super-Beasts, The Chronicles of Clovis, and Reginald in Russia, for whilst Saki’s earliest and latest works have some great stories in them, it is his middle body of works that has consistently good content. WOULD I RECOMMEND?: HELL YES

Other shit that I read: Medieval Bodies by Jack Hartnell (absolutely amazing and very much up my alley (I damn nearly yelled out loud with glee when I got to the section on the stomach and I was gifted with no less than nine new articles and books to check out on the subjects of gluttony and farting and medieval mischief), wryly enjoyed how every chapter ended with the sort of insipid half-conclusion that I’m used to writing for formality’s sake in all of my uni essays, would recommend for an introduction to medieval bodies and for some good banter about bones and penis trees), and The Stories of Slang by Jonathon Green (a book with content more interesting than the way that it is imparted, everything is strangely written in a sort of haltering stop-start way, something of an overload of very similar information, would probably just recommend checking out the bloke’s website, for while his research is comprehensive and interesting it didn’t really need to be published in its own book).

#book reviews #book rambles #saki #flann o'brien #at swim-two-birds #medieval bodies #jack hartnell #jonathon is not how you spell that fucking name #both of my non-fiction reads for this month had fun covers #i didn't read too much this month which isn't really a problem in of itself considering that i'm eschewing pointless reading quotas in 2019 #but there is a reason for it #i'm writing an essay on the goblins in Labyrinth and i'm 3500 words in already #if anyone's interested or has some cool secondary reading please let me know

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breadknight-likes-things · 6 years

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Downhill Domination: A Forgotten Masterpiece

I bought a new bike today, bicycles are great, good for your health and a lot of fun to ride around. Bikes are also an under-explored section of video games, if they’re present it’s usually just another vehicle like GTA, or just a motorcycle option in a racing game. That didn’t stop Incog Inc. Entertainment(Mouthful of a name I know) from making this game however, a game that I still feel is the reigning champ among all the “downhill extreme sports” games nearly 14 years after it’s release: Downhill Domination.

Downhill Domination cribs liberally from the SSX playbook, as most of these downhill sports games tended to do, but it brings a lot of unique flavor to the genre that went criminally ignored upon its release. All the tracks in the game are based on real mountains from around the globe. One level you may be rocketing down Mt. Middule in Italy dodging lighting bolts and in another you’re cutting through the streets and alleys of Salt Lake City doding...well cars I guess(Though in the latter’s case I’m pretty sure SLC isn’t as ridiculously steep in real life as it is in this game). Every track is masterfully designed. Ground is just the right kind of uneven, trees and other obstacles(including hikers, which really fits these games sense of humor) are always a threat and there’s huge jumps just waiting for you to trick off of in every track.

With so many tricks in the game, you can in fact, do the Can Can Tracks come in three flavors in this game, Free Ride, MX and Technical Downhill. Free Ride tracks are wide open, full of surprises and interactable elements, they’re by far the best levels in the game. MX tracks are much more focused, featuring more traditional man made downhill courses built for speed and tricks at the cost of being all that visually interesting. Lastly, Technical Downhill or “TD” are something of a mix of the two, it has the more narrow focus of MX tracks but allows itself to have a little bit more fun with the natural and generally wackier environments from Free Ride levels. There’s even a couple of bizarre bonus tracks hidden away, waiting for you to find them and have a good time jumping off a huge glass ramp somehow suspended in the sky. Every track, regardless of style, has a distinct personality as well. Whether you wind up accidentally breaking into a military base in Russia halfway down the mountain or you’re swearing you just saw Bigfoot walk across that logging camp in Canada(spoilers you totally did) every mountain feels vastly different and fun in their own way. The verticality of the tracks is another huge plus, it’s clearly achieved with skyboxes and load masking tricks(this is a PS2 game after all) but the environments all really do feel like you’re ridiculously high up and going down at an even more ridiculous speed. Pretty sure it takes more than five or so minutes to make it from the top of a mountain to the bottom but I’m willing to give this one a pass.

Nice of my hotel to be right at the foot of this untamed mountain

Downhill Domination really does need to be played to understand why it’s so good, the physics of the game are just right, not realistic in any way but also not too cartoonish that double backflips are on the table, and they never come between you and the fun. The cast of characters is....colorful....by which I mean it’s a big bundle of stereotypes with a couple real life Mountain Biking pros thrown in(and for some reason, a giant electric cyclops monster from one of Incogs other lost classics), it was 2004 after all. The game features bikes from all the big companies but the branded stuff seems a bit like an afterthought, as does the soundtrack unfortunately which is mostly forgettable, something of a huge sin for these kinds of games, with maybe the most notable highlight being Black Eyed Peas “Get Retarded” which is just.... the worst thing. Still, I can’t recommend Downhill Domination enough, as an extreme sports game it’s painfully and unfairly overlooked, as a racing game it’s great fun to play either by yourself or with friends and just as a video game overall it prizes fun above all else, which, isn’t that we’re here for anyway?

Yeah lets not though

#PS2 #playstation 2 #video games #hidden gems #10/10 #10/10 would recommend #playstation #great ps2 games #must play game #extreme sports #ssx

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kintailscape · 7 years

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Awesome Con 2017- Day 3

Sunday, Day 3: I got up a few minutes earlier and had no problem getting to the Convention Center by Metro. The headache I had was another story, but it wasn’t too bad. I got in line for Stan Lee by 9am and immediately made friends with the guy behind me in line who happened to be Ace as well. We had some wonderful discussions It made the hour and change just fly right by. As the lines started winding around toward the main stage, I ran across another friend of mine.

Even though I could have had a pretty good seat, I sat at the back so I could slip out a little early if needed in order to get in line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A. I even considered skipping Stan Lee, but I’m glad I didn’t. Stan Lee can never die, but he’s definitely getting older, and I didn’t want to miss a chance to see him in person. But Garrett Wang portrayed my favorite character on Star Trek: Voyager. Decisions, decisions! My new line friend advised me to skip out as soon as the Q&A started.

10:30 AM-11:15 AM Stan Lee Q&A Stan Lee arrived a little late (which meant more watching the Main Stage screen; OMG I need to see Baby Driver right now!) and went straight into Q&A right away. So I definitely didn’t leave immediately. It was great seeing the Father of Marvel in person on Father’s Day. He was exactly the way he is in all the specials and TV interviews I’ve seen him in. And his love for Marvel’s characters and stories was obvious and overwhelming. He talked about his cameo in Thor being his favorite because he got to do two scenes. He wasn’t sure the fans would love the Hulk or Spider-man as much as he did. He named characters alliteratively because his memory wasn’t so good and wanted to be sure to remember their names. In regards to where the X-Men movies will go he “want[s] it to teach people we’re all the same.” And in regards to his hearing aid problems “I hate not hearing myself when I talk, because I hate missing gems of wisdom.” Speaking of which, he said “We’ve all got to be good guys.”

I left a little before 11:15, hoping I’d only missed out on one or two questions at the most. I planned correctly and used the door right by the escalator leading down closest to the meeting room where the line for Garrett Wang’s Q&A was forming. I needn’t have hurried; the line was not that long and the room was not that full. I finished reading the Torchwood book I’d brought along while sitting in line. And I made the most of it and got an excellent seat.

11:30 AM-12:15 PM Garrett Wang Q&A Garrett was amazing. He was funny and personable and nice and entertaining all in one. He said that he knew if there were other Star Trek: Voyagers there, we’d be at their Q&As instead, but he was so wrong. Harry Kim was my favorite character on Voyager, hands down, and it was a pleasure to see Garrett in person. He told his the story about meeting Shatner for the first (and second) time. He did multiple impersonations of Star Trek characters. He told about his surprisingly popular “Still boldy going” typo shirts. I explained about the cast’s reactions upon arriving home. And he told the story of his running into the terrible “Code of Honor” episode of TNG over and over again. I embarrass myself when I talk to celebs, but for the past few days, I’d been working up the courage to ask Garrett a question during his Q&A. For YEARS I’ve been wondering something only a few people could answer–and he was one of them. In Galaxy Quest, there aliens design their spaceship from watching how the characters use the computer. So I really wanted to ask Garrett if he similarly planned out the whole station and what each button did during his years at the helm. This was it. I was going to be brave. I really wanted to know the answer and I didn’t get to ask Wil Wheton it yesterday. But before the Q&A portion even started, Garrett said, “Have you ever seen that movie, Galaxy Quest?” and proceeded to answer the question I was going to ask without me having to even ask it! AMAZING! And the answer was that if the aliens had made a spaceship based on his hand motions, they would have been screwed. LOL!

12:15 PM-1:00 PM Catherine Tate Q&A I headed straight up the escalator for Catherine Tate’s Q&A and only arrived a minute or so late, so I got right in and don’t think I missed much of anything. I arrived just as she realized she was at Awesome Con not Awesome.com “Oh don’t tell me that con stands for convention!” She looked great in her comfy Washington, DC hoodie, but she was still larger than life on the stage. Her favorite line from Doctor Who? “I’m not mating with you, sunshine!” David had to invent reasons to stop or slow in running so she could catch up. And her favorite part of leaving the show was getting to do an impression of David in the last episode playing Doctor-Donna. She also recited, upon request, the whole Shakespearean sonnet she did in the comic relief sketch with David Tennant as Lauren and it was AMAZING to hear her do it in person, with some humor injected as well. In regards to advice, she gave us one she liked from the great Imelda Staunton “It’s someone else’s time, and your time will come” and one of her own “What other people say about me is none of my business!” When asked about the timing of her live show, she said she’d had a hard time committing to do it because of having to book venues 18 months in advance “Don’t be ridiculous! In 18 months I’ll have an Oscar and have no time for comedy!” When asked when Donna would be up to now in the Whoverse, she said Donna had probably spent all her money and was back temping in Chiswick. And when asked about Donna with any of the other doctors, she chose Nine but said he and Donna would have gotten nothing done because there would have been too much arguing.

Stan Lee Museum I found myself with an hour of free time before the next Q&A I wanted to attend, so I headed down to the exhibit hall to see the Stan Lee Museum, which Stan had mentioned during his Q&A and that I hadn’t had time to see yet. The line for it was only about 20-30 minutes long, and it was SO worth the visit. There was everything from comic panels to movie props to figures to awards to one-of-a-kind creations to personalized drawings to actual, lit up, Iron Man suits. I took a million photos and spent a lot of time basking in the glow of shiny Iron Men.

2:00 PM-2:45PM Eliza Dushku Q&A I was enjoying the museum so much that I was a couple minutes late to Eliza’s panel, but I was pleasantly surprised to find Clare Kramer interviewing her! I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to make it to her Q&A, so it was lovely to see them both together. They talked about Buffy and Bring it On, as they were in both. And there were lots of questions about other roles of Eliza’s. I loved hearing her talking about the trust she had in Joss’ writing/direction for Dollhouse. She’s a dog person, so she had to work to find her inner cat to voice Selina Kyle. She felt that Buffy ended well. She described David Boreanaz as a “kooky free spirit” when she worked on Angel. Clare’s favorite season of Buffy was Season 5 (and the 100th episode, of course) and Eliza’s was Season 3. They talked about being able to work through their real life emotions through characters. When asked for advice, Eliza didn’t have any at first, then came up with something lovely: “Love myself and love other people. Be kind to yourself and other people. We all have our struggles. I’m just trying to find myself and what will serve me so I can serve others.”

I headed back down to the exhibit hall after that for a last run at the tables. There were a couple on day 1 that I wanted to spend more time at. And, yeah, I bought more art. I also spent $75 at one booth buying myself a couple things but mostly buying Christmas presents for friends, so it’s not that bad! But I did go back to Pride alley and bought myself a lovely naked Nightcrawler piece and another Johnlock piece and a Destiel piece and even a rainbowy Yuri on Ice piece even though I don’t know the fandom yet (I figured I will soon enough and would regret not buying something so lovely).

4:00 PM-4:45 PM These Are a Few of My Favorite Tropes I arrived just in time for my last panel of the day and of the con. It was a great one to end with. With no need to censor themselves, the panelists went through all sorts of different tropes: genre tropes, relationship tropes, circumstance tropes, structural tropes, and fandom-specific tropes. There were plenty of examples and recs to go along with them all. I laughed at the reference to “My Immortal” (“I want to believe it was real!”) and the crack pairing of Yuri/Victor/Obama sounds epic. Was great hearing some of my favorite tropes mentioned and remembering some I’d forgotten about or never really realized were a thing apart from maybe one fic I read that involved it. We all praised tags on AO3 for letting us find tropes more easily. I read a lot of stories of certain types/with certain tropes regardless of fandom or pairing, so I could really relate to “A+B=C and I’ll read it every time!” I also liked “You’re not a true fan of something until you have a cross pairing.” But my favorite was the mention of Shoebox Project followed by “Wolfstar, man. Bless.” Awwwww! It was a wonderful, multi-fandom way to end the convention.

I’m not sure what was happening beneath us, but the building shook and rumbled a dozen times. I headed out as soon as the panel was over, glad to be able to get home before 10pm. For the third day in a row, I sat and read on this exact same bench while waiting to change trains. I finished reading the second book I’d brought along, “For Color Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When The Rainbow Is Enuf.” So I ended up writing a little bit on the last leg of my journey home.

Awesome Con 2017- Day 3 was originally published on The Fangirl Project

#thefangirlproject

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