#but wheres her black traits??? where?? like. my god. am i blind??

[jennrypan]

..I think it's very obvious when a mixed poc listens more to their white parent 😶

The brain dead takes I be seeing in regards to G3 Clawdeen is staggering like..yall don't have enough biracial characters to harp on?? The fuck.

G3 is so outrageously..white and made for white and other white passing people. Idk how to explain it but thats all I see what this show.

(And no. Some lgbt rep doesn't make this a good show. A few steps forward shouldn't ignore the several other steps back. Be so fr.)

It wouldve been GREAT if they just used new characters cuz like..I think we've gotten past the need for reboots, they're NEVER good (and they've made monster high seem far less accepting which..is a choice. And its not even about fashion anymore?? Like..do kids these days not like fashion dolls or something?? Cmon now.)

[witchthewriter]

Hello! Could I request a level 5 ship?

Fandoms:

- Peaky Blinders

- Stranger Things

- The Walking Dead

Sexuality: Demisexual (Hetero-romantic)

Pronouns: She/Her

Signs: Leo Sun, Cancer Moon, Capricorn Rising

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Love Language:

- Quality Time. This is my go-to love language.

- Acts of Second. Very close second.

Traits:

- Imaginative. And can get lost in my own thoughts and imagination.

- Introspective

- Avoidant but insightful

- Fantastical. Which is a nice way of calling myself strange.

- Loyal. It may take a while to earn my trust but once you do I am a ride or die completely.

- I do have a fear of rejection

- Organised

- Passive

- Withdrawn

- Detail oriented.

- Intellectual

- Rebellious

- Can be an isolationist but mostly because I know isolating myself is safe.

- I do have a playful and sarcastic side that is reserved for the people I truly trust.

- I have, on several occasions, been called an old soul.

- I walk the line between idealistic and realistic. Sometimes it seems like I have a foot planted firmly on either side.

My Brain/Conditions:

- Autism (I don't have an official diagnosis, but I did take a screening and my results came back that if I did go in for a diagnosis I would get diagnosed as autistic)

- OCD (checking and intrusive thoughts)

- Prone to migraines

Fashion: Romantic Academia

Preferred Interior Design: Minimalist/Hygge

Hobbies:

- Writing (mostly fanfiction - most of it is on different accounts)

- Travelling

- Photography

- Nature Walks

Other:

- My favorite color is dusty blue

- I love working with animals and have 3 cats. A torbie named Mewlius Caesar, A black domestic shorthair named Bard, and a magpie/piebald shorthair named Dave. I also have a Reeves turtle named Keanu.

- I love leather-bound books

Want one? Here be the rules 🦋🌈

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Arthur Shelby. You two would be a great match as he would literally beat all your problems away. If anyone had an issue with you, he would ... well, he'd completely decimate them honestly.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Whenever he asks you about your day, he makes sure to note if you have any problems. Because he will always sort them out for you

・Calls you 'darling' and 'sweetheart'

・Likes when you make him a cup of tea when he comes home from a tough day

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

▪️ 'I'd Rather Go Blind' by Etta James

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

▪️ Emotionally Unstable x Also Emotionally Unstable But Tries To Hide It

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Arthur likes how imaginative you are, and how kind your heart is. You always take him and his feelings into account and he's so thankful of that.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Would be Ada, and Polly. The Shelby women are very close and are practically ride or die. So when they accept you, they fully accept you.

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Eddie Munson! I think he would be a great match for you because of his loud nature. Opposites would really attract in this situation. Where you're quiet, he's loud and talkative. He would love raving on about DnD to you, what's happening in Hellfire and the like.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Loves your writing and has asked you if you'd like to write something for the campaign he's doing in Hellfire

・You'd be best friends at first, and then your relationship became romantic. He adores your point of view

・Calls you 'sweetheart'

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

▪️ The Immigrant Song by Led Zepplin

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

▪️ Dumbass x Oh God I Guess That’s My Dumbass

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Loves your mind. He constantly asks you for your opinion, because it's so different than anyone else's.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Would DEFINITELY WITHOUT A DOUBT, be Robin. She would understand you and your feelings on a deeper level. She would be happy staying inside and watching tv, or going out and doing literally whatever you want. She's just happy to be in your company.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

I ship you with Daryl Dixon! I think this match-up would be the most natural. I think Daryl is on the spectrum as well, and that makes relationships a bit hard for him (as he doesn't know he's on the spectrum.) With you, he feels seen, he feels heard.

𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠

・Likes to take you on walks in the woods, always with Dog, who absolutely adores you

・He loves homecooked meals and always makes them for you

・And you ALWAYS feel safe with Daryl. He's your rock, the person you can always turn to

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

▪️ Sweet Carolina by Lana Del Rey

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

▪️ Curious and Wide-Eyed x Has Seen Everything, Thinks It’s Cute

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

He likes that he doesn't have to make so much conversation, that he doesn't have to force things to happen. Everything is so nature between the two of you.

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

Your best friend is Rosita. She practically took you under her wing and showed you how to defend yourself. She sees you as a sister and would do anything for you. Her daughter calls you "Aunty"

[syndianites]

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter One

Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary: Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe's character could have developed]

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

The tap tap tap of nails on a desk was all Chloe could think about as she blankly stared at the board in front of her. This all was tiring. Notes were tiring. School was tiring. English was tiring. How could someone be expected to sit still and pay attention to something so boring for hours on end?

Movement in her purse reminded her that it was what good students do. Sit and pay attention. Do their own work. Put in their own effort.

Chloe grit her teeth.

Well it was too hard! Being a better person shouldn’t mean taking notes and being studious in class! It should mean saving people from getting hit by a car, or stopping people from kicking puppies, or having people look to her for inspiration! Not this boring shit.

Surreptitiously, she took a deep breath.

It was all going to be worth it, she reminded herself. If she had to sit still and be a good student and do all her work herself, it would be nothing compared to being a superheroine.

But as she grew more restless, her mind wandered towards what got her into this situation in the first place....

///////

One might have called it a stroke of luck to find a magical item on the sidewalk. Of course, after a day as shitty as that, anything positive would be considered lucky.  Such was not the case for Chloe.

She didn’t know what it was at first and had almost passed it by when she second guessed herself. It looked old, but well cared for. Most of all, the box looked priceless and a quick peek into the box showed a luxurious comb.

Her mom had walked away with a dismissive ‘Come along, Cassandra,’ which had her shutting the box and hurrying to not be left behind.

A limo ride later and she found herself back in her room, ignored by her mother and forgotten by her father as he fussed over Audrey. Typical. But sure, her mom furiously turns her dearest Adrien into a gold statue, then does the same to Chloe when she tries to help him!

Chloe pursed her lips. It’s not like Audrey would have remembered how close she was to Adrien after being away for so long. If she had, surely she would have spared poor Adrikins? Her hands tightened into fists.

Except, she was still holding something. 

The box with the comb. It had slipped her mind as she’d arrived home. Barely made a dent against the sickening feeling that curled up in her stomach as her mother hemmed and hawed, not sparing even a glance at her daughter she’d betrayed.

Which was fine. She’d been akumatized. Surely the stress and aftermath of being taken into Hawkmoth’s fold would cause her to forget about her beloved daughter. Later, when Audrey had properly taken her wrath out onto the proper people, she would come up and fuss over Chloe and ensure she was alright.

Or she’d send her daddy to do it. 

Returning her attention back to the box, she lifted the lid once more. It was a lovely shade of golden yellow, with black detailing. Upon closer look, taking in the fine detail of what seemed to be insect wings, Chloe realized that she was looking at a beautifully crafted bee comb.

She ran a delicate finger on the edge of the comb only to be met with blinding light. Cringing away, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes. When the light dissipated, she glanced up.

The box and comb clattered to the floor.

A bee was floating in front of her.

A bee with a big head, and big eyes, and arms, and a big stinger, and Oh. My. God.

She screamed.

///////

Eyes flicked towards the window to catch the dying rays of dusk. A trembling hand brought a delicate porcelain mug up to a man’s face. He finished off the now lukewarm tea and let it sit for a moment. 

Peering into the remains, he observed the major remnants of the tea leaves. Lazy, wavy lines dominated the cup, with a scattering of imperfect triangles. Finally, a grouping of mountains to one side.

Master Fu hummed in thought.

“What do you think of the fate of the Bee, Master?” Wayzz spoke up from where he sipped his own drink. 

Turning back to the nearly navy darkness of the sky, Fu replied, “We will have to see, my friend. Only time will tell us now.”

///////

“Please calm down My Queen. Surely Ladybug informed you of what you needed to know?” Pollen reassured quickly. Except, the small being felt something was off. She was floating safely in an apartment with a girl she’d never seen before, no akuma in sight or mind. Her Chosen was clearly surprised to see her.

And there was no Ladybug in sight.

Still, she kept a smile on her face.

“What are you! What do you mean Ladybug told me what I need to know? Wait,” Chloe broke off with a gasp, “Are you how Ladybug gets her powers?”

Ah, a red flag. 

Pollen was plenty aware that Ladybug had chosen her to assist in an akuma fight. If she had not been delivered by Ladybug then something must be amiss. For now, she would watch her words carefully.

“No, My Queen. But I am an ally of Ladybug,” Pollen continued. “I am here to help grant another the power to assist Ladybug and Chat Noir in their quest to defeat akumas and stop Hawkmoth.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean I get to be a superheroine? I knew it! I knew Ladybug would see she needed my help!”

Pollen stopped her there, “On the contrary, My Queen. With Ladybug absent it is my duty to uphold order and ensure you are a good fit to be bestowed my power. Since there is no immediate threat, I see fit to judge your character as you go about your day.”

“What!” The girl griped at her, “Clearly Ladybug knew what she was doing. If you can make me become a superhero I demand you do it!.”

There was a harsh pull in her gut and Pollen fought to bite her words back. She knew she had to obey her holder, but she also knew enough to pull through some loopholes. Poor Nooroo has been stuck in a terrible enslavement for far too long for the rest of the kwami to not prepare for such an occasion.

“You must be a good person to be a superhero, first.” The pull in her gut lessened, but remained. “If you can prove to me you are worthy of holding my power, I will make you a superhero.”

Pollen received a scoff in reply. “I am a good person! Just ask anyone at all. My daddykins always tells me I’m doing good, so why wouldn’t I be?”

The pull began to intensify again. Worry started to drum through her. If Pollen couldn’t convince this person to let her check her history first, she wouldn’t have time to find and return to Ladybug- or, at least, inform Ladybug who possessed her Miraculous.

A low, angry buzz started in her chest. A Queen never let her hive be hurt by her own actions. If she did not stop this girl now, she could harm the rest of her kind, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And, well, who was she to let that happen.

She faked a sigh, “Yes, of course My Queen. Now listen closely.” Pollen risked floating closer to the girl, who leaned in in response. For a moment, she felt bad. The girl seemed earnest enough, if conceited and arrogant. A good Queen would have these traits in modesty, just enough to benefit and little enough to avoid harm. Then the pull in her gut worsened and she chose to make her move. 

With a sweet smile, Pollen leaned forward slowly. Then she turned in a swift movement and struck the poor girl in the junction between her left arm and shoulder. The girl let out a choked screech before her body came to a full stop, paralyzed. 

Floating back so that she could be seen in full view, Pollen gave a more genuine smile. “That, my Queen, is one of my powers. Immobilization. Now,” she paused, watching the girl’s eye twitch for a split second. “You will listen to me. My first loyalty is to Ladybug. If you are not fit to be her ally, I will not allow you to use my Miraculous. From what I can tell, you stumbled upon my Miraculous by chance.”

A quiet part of her whispered that Master Fu could have had a hand in this, but she dismissed it.

“Ladybug chose me to help her with the latest akuma, and they are gone. However, I am willing to give you a chance. While I serve both my Master and Ladybug, I am my own being. If you can prove you are good enough to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, I will grant you my power to help them. If not, I will reclaim my Miraculous and return to Ladybug, telling her that you are not fit to wield any such Miraculous.”

Pollen clasped her hands behind her back and puffed up her chest, portraying an image of regality in such a small body. “So I will offer you a deal. You will not ask me to make you into a hero. You will not order me to do anything. Most importantly, you will not reveal me or my Miraculous to anyone other than Ladybug or Chat Noir, or my Master. In return, I will spend time with you to decide whether you are fit to be my holder- and if you are, I will see to it that you are trained and informed as much as I can do for you before you go into the fight with Ladybug and Chat Noir. If at any point you break this deal I will immediately take my Miraculous back and you will never be allowed to see it again.”

She lowered her eyes to look down upon the still frozen girl. “Do you accept the terms of the deal?”

The girl, for her part, didn’t move. Rather, her anger and impetulant thoughts swirled in her head. While Pollen was no Kwami of Emotion or Mind, she could feel her inner chaos. As the girl realized that she would not be set free unless she made the deal, her fire wore down.

Pollen broke out into a smile. She floated forward, ready to let her free of her grasp. This was a risk. If she didn’t accept the deal, this girl could turn the tides on her in an instant. If the girl realized she could command her to do whatever she wanted, it would be over. Just under her display of confidence, fear swam in her stomach.

But she was nothing if not determined. With a tap to the young lady’s face, she was unfrozen.

For a moment, the girl fumbled over her words,” I- you- how did you- how dare you!”

When Pollen pointedly swept down to pick up her Miraculous and floated back, the girl stopped.

In her head, her mind ran on the idea of being a hero. Being beside Ladybug. Being loved by all of Paris. Being good enough for her Mother to remember her name. This was her chance! Her chance to change everything! To prove herself! If she just said yes and passed the stupid little test, she would get to be a hero.

Besides, she could bend and break the deal if she needed to.

Brushing down her capris, the girl stood up straight. With all the dignity she learned from being the child of the mayor, she calmly spoke, “I accept your deal.”

Pollen fought down a crushing smile. Instead, she reached a paw forward to shake on it. The girl, to her credit, only eyed her a moment before giving a finger to shake.

“Excellent. My name is Pollen. For the next twenty-four hours I will be watching you go about your life as normal to determine if you are deserving of my power.”

“Well, Pollen, I am Chloe Bourgeois, Ladybug’s closest ally, I can assure you that you will find nothing but good things about me!”

////////

Above the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, a sleep-deprived girl sat up hastily working through homework as the night ticked on. Perhaps from the late hour, or her finally caving under all the stress of her life, she felt like laughing. Giggles escaped her to the alarm of a sleepy Tikki beside her.

“Marianette, are you okay?” The kwami asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Marianette stifled a laugh. “I just suddenly had the thought that something super funny happened.”

Tikki shook her head disapprovingly. “You need to sleep. Staying up this late is not good for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, “It has been way too long a day after losing the Bee miraculous.”

Tikki patted her shoulder in sympathy as Marianette got up and began her bed routine.

A long day indeed.

[themsource]

A Moment Of Time

Pairing: Sans x Frisk Rating: T Word Count: 2,673

Hey @catsitta I was your secret santa for @secretsantafrans! I love your Fated AU so please excuse any cannon inconsistences if I made any @_@  I had fun mixing holiday themes for this; Kronia and Haloa specifically! 

Hope you enjoy ^^

Lord Death’s realm; usually so quiet and haunting, was unusually loud with the cries of celebration and joy. Golden light bathed the immense hall, the fires and torches giving such a grand view of the heavily decorated scaffoldings and food laden tables casting a supernatural warmth supplied by none other than Lord Fyre, for the evening's festivities.

Rarely was there cause for such lavish displays of black marbled fountains overflowing with fine wine, even rarer a reason for heavenly grown ambrosia to grace such a place as the Underworld with it’s desolate landscape and often gloomy atmosphere, but this was a day rare in itself.

Today marked the winter solstice; the time of year that many a mortal and god alike abandoned their divisions and classes that usually separated them from others of lower status as a show of civility and gratitude for one another.

And Death the youngest favored the holiday, in fact he was its greatest fan and celebrated it every year. Which was a surprise to the Goddess Spring given her dear husband’s solitary nature and not so subtle irritation at large gatherings. Let it be said that Sans denied Papyrus very little, and let him want for nothing.

An admirable trait in her spouse.

“My lady are you not enjoying the wine?” Frisk blinked free of her thoughts and spared a glance at her goblet, sitting wholly untouched and turning bitter the longer she ignored it and allowed it to spoil. 

A longstanding tradition on this day was that women alone were allowed to drink of the spirits and indulge in the fresh aged fruits of the last harvest, a tradition she always enjoyed, but now served as nothing but a reminder of lost youth and unwanted vows.

Frisk was gradually coming to accept the chains that tied her to her husband, and deeply appreciated the way in which he treated her as not only an adult, but as a partner, an equal. However it did little to ease the sadness she felt at times such as these, reminding her of the choices she’d unwittingly made that hadn’t truly been choices at all.

This year she wouldn’t be dancing among the snow of the surface, nor would she sit gossiping with her mother and her wood nymphs about plans for future growth and vegetation. Where once she used to greet the time of year with enthusiasm and eagerness, now sat nothing but a rock hard pit in her stomach that even Ambrosia couldn’t fill.

She felt out of place, and just a little bit lonely.

“Forgive me, but my stomach is not quite right tonight.” She forced a smile, small and fragile, but still genuine as she looked to her handmaiden. “Tonight I am not your lady, we are as equals, did you forget?” 

Daisy smiled as she took the opportunity and reached down to take the neglected drink, boldly taking a sip from it before offering Frisk a warm smile. “No matter the time or day you will always be my lady. As long as you’ll have me.”

Frisk chuckled before looking out to the crowd, her golden eyes skimming the dancers supplied by Mother Night as she caught the sight of Lord Fyre in hushed whispers with a fair skinned and golden haired Underworld denizen. 

Vaguely she tried to recall all the fallen heroes she’d been told would be allowed to attend but no name came to mind, maybe they were a member of the Asphodel Meadows?

“I take it Iris and Hyacinth are enjoying themselves?” She asked absently just as her eyes spotted her husband standing beside the hearth speaking with his brother. 

As if he could feel her gaze like a touch he subtly shifted his fathomless sockets to meet her.

Quickly Frisk averted her eyes with a grimace, and not so quiet skip of her heart. How he could draw such a reaction from her when she could just barely tolerate his presence she’d never know, and even as she watched Daisy blush, her flames tinting a slight shade darker, she swore she could still feel him watching her. 

Sans’s gaze always unsettled her, just as much as it drew her in like a vortex.

“Iris is currently in the kitchens, and Hyacinth, is showing Lord Cadmus around.” The way Daisy said his name was enough to make Frisk stare at her in shock. Cadmus, the hero of letters, how fitting given Hyacinth’s nature. Though it was still the last thing she’d expected of the elemental.

“I see…” Even her handmaidens dreamed of love she supposed, something she’d never really given much thought to. Was that one of the reasons behind their constant push for her to get close to Sans? “Well I hope she enjoys herself.”

Daisy offered a timid grin. “Are you sure it’s only your stomach that ails you tonight?”

Frisk dismissed her worry with a shake of her head. “Don’t worry Daisy, go have fun, you fuss over me enough every day as is.” 

Reluctantly the young fiery girl nodded and did as Frisk suggested, but not without offering a backward glance that the goddess waved off with a teasing smile. Slowly she let her hand drop and went back to looking out over the crowd. 

She felt like such a stick in the mud, truly not an attitude befitting of a queen.

Gracefully as she could, and still doing her best to ignore San’s continuously lingering stare, she skirted the side of the hall and slipped away behind a gathered group of souls. She didn’t stop holding her breath or head high until she’d safely made it back to her room, where she finally let her shoulders sag and sighed from sudden exhaustion. 

Papyrus might not be too pleased at her absence, but it was better than sitting in place all night frowning and pouting like a child. Frisk had gone to such lengths to show her mother and the other gods she was worthy of her title, she refused to spoil it all in one evening. 

More than halfway across her room she froze, her eyes going wide in disbelief, as they caught on a small object resting in the center of her bed.

Had someone been in her room?

Frisk’s heart anxiously fluttered in her chest as she debated on returning to the party or taking another step further into her room. Never before now had she noticed just how thick the curtains were that adorned her windows, or just how dark the corners of her chamber were where the miniscule candle light didn’t reach. 

Cautiously she inched forward, the ichor in her veins pounding like a drum as she shakily reached for it with all the control of a quivering branch. 

It fit perfectly in her hand, its texture like that of smooth glass with a coolness that sent a chill up to her shoulder. He guard dropped as she slowly raised it to eye level and turned it this way and that. It looked like a flat and rounded piece of polished obsidian, with golden leaf decorating it’s edges in swirling floral designs. 

A mirror, designed to be easily concealed and for discrete use.

She frowned.

Honestly Frisk wasn’t one to fret over her appearance, she never had been, always preferring wild and tangled hair with robes slightly worn at the fringes from hours spent in the dirt or walking. The only ones that showed any care to her looks were her caretakers and, on a less comfortable note, her husband.

She turned it twice over, as if the name of the person who had left this would magically appear if she simply kept looking, and nearly dropped it as the surface brightened, turning white hot and blinding.

Just as quickly as it happened it dimmed, and in its place was an image, crystal clear  and moving. 

Frisk gasped as she recognized one of the flower fields in which she used to play, now blanketed in freshly fallen snow, the picture of her mother standing silent and stoic as she looked out over the winter landscape. 

It was a looking glass! A magical item so very rare that only three gods she knew of had one, and none of them this small or intricately decorated. Whoever this was from had obviously put a lot of considerable effort into having it made.

“does my lady wife like her gift?”

She hadn’t expected his presence with the celebrations currently going on, but honestly she should have. Sans always had the habit of suddenly appearing from around corners or showing up spontaneously. 

Frisk spun on her heel, her hand quickly darting up to brush away the tears beading in her eyes as they widened at seeing her husband standing just within the dark shadows of the doorway.

At this point in their relationship she’d grown accustomed to his comings and goings. The only thing she never understood behind the actions was if it was done simply because he liked to use his name and title as the lord of death to unnerve others and to demonstrate the power he held, or if it was merely a fleeting moment of whimsy for a cheap thrill. 

One thing that always irritated her to no end though, was that he enjoyed targeting her the most.

Such as now; with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks and a jolt of shame running down her spine as she struggled to hide the very emotion she so blatantly wore. Gifts between spouses was a tradition, but she hadn’t given any thought to it. She didn’t think for a moment her lord husband would be partial to the tradition.

Frisk should have known better given how their whole relationship had even started.

“I...am afraid I did not prepare anything for you in turn.” 

His gaze, always so penetrating and watchful, dropped from her face to the looking glass she clutched to her chest, not missing the subtle way her knuckles whitened as she subconsciously tightened her hold on it.

As if he’d try to steal it away from her.

Sans’s smile widened. “what more gift could a husband want than the company of his wife?”

Her face stung as it turned red, and her voice came out uncertain, higher in pitch, as she stared at him. “I trust you mean platonically?”

“I have the desires of any man, for his bride, and while i wouldn’t turn away such an offer...” 

She tensed as his sockets did a slow, calculated roll of her form before flickering back up to her face, the gesture causing her heart to skip for the second time that night. “in this instance my intentions are entirely innocent.” He chuckled.

Frisk watched as he held a hand out in offer, his phalanges slightly curling as if beckoning her to him with a still ever present grin. It would be so easy, in another time and place, for Frisk to have believed the innocence behind his smile. But he always wore it, when amused, irritated, and when being cruel as Death often had to be.

It made it so hard to understand him.

Casually she slipped the now darkened looking glass within her robes and tried her best to keep her expression unreadable as she placed her hand in his, the icy touch of his bones draining the warmth from her, but never able to steal it all completely.

The edges of his smile seemed to soften as he glanced down.

It did something to her to see that. He acted so touch starved, so easily awed every time they had the briefest of contact.

They both stood there in silence, his thumb slowly running circles into the back of her hand the longer he held it. She sucked in a breath at the shiver it sent up her spine but dared an uncertain look up at him.

“Are we not going somewhere?”

His subtle movement stopped but he didn’t look away from where they stayed joined.

“is there somewhere you wish to go?”

She didn’t respond, and he took that as an answer. He gave one more slow, deliberate, stroke of his thumb before finally releasing her. If Frisk didn’t know better she’d have thought she’d heard a small sigh from him.

And then she finally noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“...Sans?”

“hmm?”

“Have you been drinking?” 

He looked her in the eye as his grin hitched higher. “whatever gave that impression?”

Frisk narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, the faint blush darkening as she stared him down and cultivated one on her own cheeks. She hadn’t noticed just how cute his magic could sometimes manifest itself, just how it left a vague ethereal glow that bathed the inside of his normally obscure hood.

“Sans…only women are supposed to drink today.”

His sockets lidded. “from what i could see earlier in the night, you weren’t in the mood, and it would’ve been rude to waste wine provided by asgore himself.” 

She knew he was using a poor excuse, but it was enough of one it lit a flicker of embarrassment in her. Frisk stubbornly focused on one of the gold medallions that held up his cloak to avoid eye contact.

“You just wanted to drink.”

“can you fault me? it was my favorite after all.” She glared at his cheeky smirk. “pomegranate.” 

“...”

“...”

“...If only divorce was an option.”

Sans’s sockets widened and then he let out such a deep, bass heavy, laugh Frisk openly gawked at him. It took a moment for him to compose himself but once he had his voice was filled with mirth.

“sadly it isn’t. i would only welcome the challenge to make you mine yet again, if i could.”

She couldn’t think of a response to that, not one that wasn’t insulting at least, and really she didn’t feel like trying to argue with the thick skulled god before her, it would be pointless, Sans never backed down when it came to a play on words.

Silence stretched before he spoke again. 

“i should be getting back to the celebration, gillby wanted to talk to me regarding a trade of some sort.”

Frisk suddenly felt a pang that made her grimace. She hadn’t realized she’d actually been enjoying the company. Maybe it was because they rarely spoke, or maybe she was just that emotionally vulnerable tonight, but her words were hesitant and honest. 

“I understand...I enjoyed this. The casual conversation.”

Her husband tilted his head.

“i should be thanking you, this was just the break i needed from the crowd.”

Despite herself she chuckled. “Of course, why would I ever assume you asked for my company purely for it alone?” 

He went silent, the brim of his hood covering his sockets as his tone came out blunt. “if this wasn’t what i desired i wouldn’t have asked for this when you offered me a gift in turn.” 

How did he keep doing that? Slipping behind her walls so easily with honeyed words after repeatedly testing their strength with his indifference and often selfish actions? He barely ever tried but it was always enough to make her question her stance on him.

“You’d better hurry back, I don’t think Grillby will be sober enough to remember his reasons if you don’t.” She whispered.

Sans gave a small bow, his hand swiftly cupping hers and bringing it to his teeth for a kiss. When he stood her hand was still lifted, frozen in place by confusion and surprise.

“i bid thee goodnight, happy solstice my queen.”

He vanished.

Frisk opened and closed her mouth dumbly, an almost plea for him to stay forever trapped on the tip of her tongue. She stared at where her husband had stood and slowly pulled out her looking glass.

Her first Solstice in the Underworld hadn’t gone well as it could’ve been, but it was still memorable.

[sleephyjhs]

the ghost of you ; myg

pairing; human!yoongi x ghost!reader

genre; angst , supernatural au , lovers au , ghost au

tw; description of death and accidents, death mentioned throughout, heavy descriptions of grief and loss.

wc; 2.96k

playlist; too much to ask - niall horan

m.list

Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five. And counting. His shoulder must’ve ached by now - there’s no way it couldn’t have done. Why was nobody helping him? Nevermind. If I knew Yoongi, I knew he wouldn’t want to give anybody else the hassle. It hadn’t been that long. Such a prominent trait of his wouldn’t have withered away so soon.

He’d hardly ever ask me for a favour when I was alive. Now that I’m dead, isolation was his only company.

I watched from the balcony landing on the upper floor of his new apartment. Slowly, it had begun to dawn on me that I was nothing more than a phantom - an unfamiliar spirit that haunted his hallways. I wasn’t expecting to leave Yoongi as soon as I did; the guilt hadn’t quite drained from my blood. On the first night, I sat opposite him in the dimly lit living room. A single whisky glass, still coated with the third refill of the night, hugged the black coaster on the coffee table. The phone screen glowed with condolence and devastation, and his cheeks glowed with the numbing sting of grief and alcohol. There was a pizza box too. It still steamed with the anticipation of being eaten - I’m not sure whether he ever did or not.

I sobbed with him. Uncontrollable, I was. He was. He couldn’t hear me - nobody could. It was for the better, I could wallow in my own grief without being disturbed. But I could hear him. God, could I hear him.

“Why her? Why me? It should’ve been me. I need her.”

Vulnerability was far from Yoongi’s regular state. Seldom did I see him so emotionally honest. I’ve had time to reflect. Actually, all I’ve done is reflect - there isn’t much else for me to do. Watching him cry out into the echoes of a now apartment for one reminded me of the times where my echoes were met by his soothing presence; supportive and caring words which may have only been so effective since Yoongi was the one delivering them.

I wondered if he knew I was here. Who am I kidding? Yoongi doesn’t believe in ghosts. Spirits, phantoms - none of it. Why would I be here? Why would I want to stay with him? “Heaven is a better place for her, she belongs in a better place,” is what he reminded himself, verbally, leaning against the bathroom counter. He couldn’t even look himself in the eyes.

Everything happened so quickly. I hate that I remember so much of it. It wasn’t Yoongi’s fault at all, nor was it mine. Engraved in my memory was the image of the approaching car, spinning, pulling up heavy dust from the low grade country road. Clashing headlights blinded us both, and yet somehow I still could see the doom that we were to encounter. I screamed. Yoongi scrambled hurriedly at the wheel, urgently attempting to accelerate past the uncontrollable vehicle.

But it was too late. Instant collision led my passenger window to burst into a thousand rainbow shards. They showered me; it was as though I was being grated. Perhaps if I hadn’t worn short sleeves, the coarse edges of the glass wouldn’t have shaved me as closely as they did. Airbags were past their purpose now. I can’t remember if I was still screaming. Or if it was Yoongi. Maybe a bystander?

With all the reminiscence death brought me, what I believed to be my last thoughts may well have been a lie; a façade to disguise my lack of memory. I hated not being able to remember. If I did find a way to communicate with Yoongi, I could never truthfully tell him he’s the last thing I thought about. I simply didn’t know. I never will.

There are things I’m certain of. He told me over and over again, “We’re okay. We’ll be alright.” That was a lie, I knew it was then, too. I had no choice but to believe it. Believing the alternative was too scary. Too real.

“I love you.” I must’ve said this. Everyone takes the opportunity to confess to their loved ones that they do indeed love them when in such a peril dilemma. They’re almost preprogrammed; do we even mean it when we say it?

I meant it. I loved Yoongi. I love Yoongi. Sequencing the shower of shards came my last thought. A void in my mind; the silhouette of a missing sticker from the book of my life. Grief completed the last gap in the book, and it’s replacement was good enough for me to convince myself it was reality’s choice too.

“I’m so sorry.”

This could’ve been the guilt of grief interrupting my focus. I knew I was going to die, but for all I knew, Yoongi easily could’ve joined me. He was fortunate, always had been. Even if it wasn’t my honest last thought, it was more than valid now. I am sorry.

The short transaction of my spirit from reality into the unknown was short. I lingered at the sight of the crash, watching over Yoongi. I learned quickly that I was now nothing more than an apparition, perhaps one of the imagination only. The glass crumbs that had pierced his skin begged me to remove them, but I couldn’t. Aligning my fingers with his fresh wounds, I persevered with trying to extract the debris from his body. But I couldn’t. My nails scraped through, clean; from my perspective, I was mere steam in the shape of my now lifeless body.

Sirens wailed and beckoned from miles away; at least for as far as I could hear. Thick evergreen trees were unable to filter the swirling sapphire lights from illuminating the crash scene. I counted how long it took a stroke of light to return to Yoongi’s weakened face. Three seconds. One, two, three, and then a strip of blue curtained his forehead. And then again.

I only learned that I was the only casualty after eavesdropping on the attending paramedics. Now that I’d thought about it, I didn’t even turn to my lifeless body. I needed no awakening; I was well aware of the realm I had now entered. Yoongi was alive, he was more important. Checking his pulse was impossible; all the help I could provide was watching him breathe.

Help. What am I talking about? If he had stopped, what was there that I could’ve done? I suppose now that watching him inhale and exhale with shaky breath was for my own sanity rather than his well-being.

His breath was laboured, heavy with shock. He was still talking to me, rocking me, begging me to respond. And I did. I screamed at him, telling him that I was there, I was with him. He didn’t hear me, but that wasn’t enough for me to stop. I cried, howled with shallow pain. Yoongi was then unreachable. He was only sitting next to me.

Since then, I haven’t left his side. Our shared grief is unbalanced, however. I know he’s there. I can see him, smell him, hear him. But he can’t. Of course, there are photos of me in his phone. Even a few of us together. It’s all that was left of my image. And it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t give him any more, and he couldn’t gain any more.

Funnily enough, that there was one of my pet peeves that I’d festered since meeting Yoongi. He took more photos of me than he’d allow himself to feature in. Nothing spectacular would have to occur either. One night, I watched over his shoulder as he scrolled through, what seemed like, the hundreds of photos inhabited his camera roll, ones I hadn’t noticed he’d even taken. In one, I was timidly hiding behind one of the couch pillows as I intensively watched one of the horror films he’d hilariously recommended. In another, I was messing about with Holly on the floor of his parent’s house, ruffling his unshaven winter fur.

He stumbled across one of us together. Finally. Us at his brother’s wedding, under the rice white canopy threaded with the gentle subtleties of wildflowers. I dwelled on how particularly handsome he looked in his suit, with a smaller bouquet of fern sprigs and poppies attached delicately to his breast pocket. My arm was intertwined with his; he held my hand tighter than he ever had before. There was another from the same day; his brother and his bride joined us, and then his family, and then the remainder of the guests. I’ll never forget that day, ever.

My risen cheeks fell as the memories shifted to the back of my mind again. With memories came heartache and remorse. Heartache; I’ve lost the love of my life. Rather, he lost me. But I can no longer touch him or remind him how much I treasured him. That’s the unconventional type of heartbreak. And remorse? I took our time together for granted. Too short, it was. We were together for over 5 years, and he made them feel like minutes. In the end, we really couldn’t have been any closer than we were. But all the memories I had of Yoongi were the tiniest fraction of those that I wanted. I wanted more than that. I still do.

A week after moving into our new apartment, no, his new apartment, Yoongi’s piano arrived. Grand was a shortcoming. Sleek monochrome keys and polished curves competed the modern design of the main hosting room; beautiful was miles from capturing how impeccable it actually looked.

I took my time in exploring its position. The piano and I were familiar; it was the first big purchase after moving into our first home together. Yoongi cared for this piano as if it were his child. He sang to it too, although I’m not sure he always knew I was around to hear. His own songs, those that he’d dedicated to me, ones he played as a young teenager still learning the most complicated chords. One day, I asked him to teach me something. A simple infant lullaby, something easy. Bearing in mind the amount of commitments this man usually had, the act of taking time from his schedule to teach me what really was a useless skill was near enough tear-jerking.

“See? You’re a natural.”

“Some people can play this at three, Yoongi. It’s nothing impressive.”

No matter the skill or talent involved, Yoongi never failed to encourage me. There’s a lot we did together that alone I wouldn’t have even considered. Really, encouragement was an understatement. Neither of us were particularly adventurous, yet together we seemed prepared to try anything. I was never able to thank him for that.

I hovered my fingers over the middle keys, examining for any marks or bruises. Sure enough, there were none. I’m not sure what I expected. Sometimes, I was convinced Yoongi took better care of his piano than himself. I didn’t mind in the slightest. The songs he wrote me for special occasions made me quite glad he did.

There were days when dragging him away from the piano to return back to the real world for a minute or two was near impossible. Instead, I developed a habit of joining him on the stool. Looking at it from the landing made it look small. It was, really. But it didn’t feel like that when I sat beside Yoongi. If it did, I never noticed. That’s the Yoongi effect.

Minutes become hours, hours become days, days become forever.

Today, I haven’t paid much attention to Yoongi’s whereabouts. The glass banister that enclosed the upstairs landing was my usual seat; I watched everything from here. A few people had come to see Yoongi, his parents, the members, a couple old friends, it was the first time I’d seen him smile since I’d gone. He ate without hesitating, he laughed heartily again. He even cracked a joke in response to another.

He looked happy, and that made me happy.

It wasn’t necessarily moving on, though. Each day, something was different about the apartment. I sat on Yoongi’s bed as he set up the wardrobe. His monochrome closet hadn’t lost its ‘Yoongi’ essence. Next to the wardrobe was a spare cupboard of an identical size. Would I have been able to, a tear might have just fallen from my eye. Yoongi filled the rails with my clothes. They still smelled like me; the same perfume with a base note of my regular deodorant. A pair of my best heels which he bought me for attendance of a some grand event or another next to my white canvas converse sheltered in the top cubbyhole on top of smaller garments of mine that he hadn’t quite brought himself to donate.

The day after, I caught him spraying a couch cushion from our old home with my signature perfume. He always did like it. On the nights where we became closer than close, I always made sure to wear it for him; I knew I’d be rewarded for it. My memory now lived on in the form of a staining stench. One that I was certain would one day suffocate him.

Today, there were no changes. Yoongi left the apartment early in the morning - I suspect for work. He needed to get out, desperately. I was around him all the time - both ironically and genuinely - so much so his new apartment had become a smaller trinket of a shrine to me. I’d get sick of it too.

Wherever he went, I let him go. What was I supposed to do to stop him? Ghosts don’t pack much of a punch.

It was the first time I’d gone more than a few hours without seeing him since my death. Usually, Yoongi was never further than the corner of my eye, and if he was I could at least hear him humming to himself

But the silence was still. There was chaos in the calm. This sudden isolation was my first opportunity to mourn Yoongi alone since we lost one another. I didn’t cry though. Instead, I wallowed in the emptiness I felt. Of course, I was empty. I felt as though I were the right side of a friendship bracelet, missing the ‘Best’ side of me.

Somehow, I’d managed to traipse downstairs. Aimless wandering was on track to become my first spiritual habit. I approached the piano - I had meant to do this. I understood now how there could be comfort in music. When Yoongi aligned himself so closely to his piano and his songwriting, it was difficult to now associate one to the other.

The stool was already ajar - I could squeeze in here. Pianos are overwhelmingly daunting the first time you sit at one without somebody who can play. There are more keys - more options - than you first assume. I ran my fingers down from the highest octave down to the lowest. Strangely, I could near enough feel the rumps of the keys against my plushy skin. Pushing down, the melody Yoongi had taught me began to play like an exclusive soundtrack of my 20s.

It was all in my head, but it felt real. Grief has always done strange things to people, and it seemed I was no exception.

For hours, I continued to replay the limited memory of what Yoongi had taught me. After a while, I began adding my own chords or notes, completely oblivious to the overall value they deducted from my solo performance. Eventually, I became lost in my own serenade. Miscellaneous noise blocked itself out; I was alone with my piano.

His piano.

And so, when Yoongi walked back into his home, he seemed quite stunned to hear our song echoing through the marble-accented walls. He stood, utterly speechless, in the archway to where he left his prized possession. I only noticed him after a few seconds.

If Yoongi didn’t believe in ghosts before, he was left with close to no other choice now.

Maybe he thought he was imagining the sound? Until his jaw dropped, that’s what I had believed too. Yoongi’s gummy smile revealed itself to me; it was almost as though I could read his thought procession from his eyes. Scrunching the tip of his nose, I watched as Yoongi fought back what I was positive were tears.

How the melody was audible to us both was far beyond my comprehension; perhaps it was our connection that made the melody viable to us. The keys were real, I could feel them. I shouldn’t have been able to, but I could.

Yoongi stalked up to the piano like a lion stalking his prey. Except Yoongi wasn’t preparing to pounce. He was scared of frightening my melody away.

Nothing could have frightened me away. This was as close as I’d ever dared to return to Yoongi. I knew too well that if I got too close, I’d never be able to separate myself from him again. I wouldn’t put myself through that heartbreak again. Or him, should he even realise that I was there.

The stool that matched the piano was longer than the average, but it still wouldn’t have seated both me and Yoongi. He edged himself to the end of the stool as though he were making room for me. Still, there was no gap between us. My leg overlapped his. He was warm. I was not.

He played my same melody in a lower octave, even adapting to my added chords and adlibs. He smiled to himself, tears finally slipping from his lower eyelid. Some rushed to the cliff of his jaw and fell to their demise on the black keys of the piano. I would’ve given anything to wipe them away. Anything at all.

tag list !!

@mama-m0chi @liriaus @loveyoongles @weltmaya @mrsfortune1306 @janeelizabeth1216

[ladyopinior]

FATE: THE WINX SAGA – review

Fate: The Winx Saga is a teen drama inspired by the animated series Winx Club. The series is aimed at an audience of young adults and features a darker story than that of the cartoon (Wikipedia). In order to watch the show, you have to have to leave out of the picture most of your previous knowledge about the Winx Club. Although the show is inspired by the cartoon version, it is clear within the first few minutes of the first episode that most of the events do not match the Winx Club’s story. Now, I know that a lot of people are angry and disappointed at the fact that both Flora and Tecna do not appear in the show, that The Trix are nowhere to be seen, and that the story does not correspond with its source of inspiration. However, I think that this adaptation has potential (this will be discussed later on) - although it can bit a little bit cringy at times. Like it was said before, Winx club is merely the source of inspiration for this show, but that does not mean that Fate: The Winx Saga was going to follow the original storyline step by step as it was. If we take Winx Club as our object of comparison, I do think that the characters are fairly well matched, although some of them are lacking certain characteristics (and being honest, I am still salty about what they did with Stella):

Bloom, for example, has the same personality traits as the Original Bloom. First, let’s recap Winx Club’s Bloom’s personality: Bloom started off as an insecure girl at the beginning of the series because of her ignorance of her true origins and her strange, yet surprisingly potent powers. Later on, as she learned more about magic and herself, she grew increasingly curious about her past and whom her biological parents are. An escapist by nature, she has a tendency to run away when things get too hard or confusing for her, and can also be impatient and stubborn, with a short temper. Bloom was also impulsive at times, which led to some very bad experiences for both her and her friends. Her greatest strength and greatest weakness was her status as the guardian of the Dragon's Flame. While the Dragon Flame made her arguably the most powerful fairy in the Magic Dimension, it also consistently drew numerous enemies to her such as the Trix, Darkar, Valtor, and the Ancestral Witches. Despite her flaws, Bloom still has a heart of gold. She cares for all of her friends, allies, and families (both adopted and biological) deeply, and is always willing to help and fight for a good cause. She has shown herself to be selfless, caring, brave and a true capable leader. Bloom is tough when needed to be and always lends a helping hand to people in need (Wiki). Now that we have checked Original Bloom’s personality let’s compare it with Fate: The Winx Saga’s Bloom: she also has the same insecurities as the original Bloom - also caused by her lack of knowledge when it comes to her true origins and the fact that she is a changeling (Aisha tells her this in Episode 1). In this show we see a Bloom that is willing to learn more about her powers and magic, and that is also curious about who her biological parents are. She is also an escapist and has a tendency to run away when things get too hard or confusing for her - this is told in Episode 1 when she tells Aisha about how she lost control and nearly burnt her parents alive “Every night after that, I… I snuck out. I was so… scared that I’d hurt them again… that I slept in this… creepy-ass… warehouse near my house until Miss Dowling found me”. In this case, it is also her status as the guardian of the Dragon’s Flame that attracted the Burned Ones to her. This Bloom is also impatient, stubborn, and has a short temper. Bloom was also impulsive at times, which led to some very bad experiences for both her, her friends and the rest of students at Alfea - her decision of freeing Rosalind and letting her recharge her powers weakened the protective barrier and allowed the Burned Ones to enter Alfea risking all the teachers and student’s lives. The Original Bloom is said to be selfless, caring, brave and a true capable leader, however we can say that this Bloom is overall selfish and thinks about her interests first instead of worrying about the consequences of her acts. Although it is still too early to assume that she will be a good leader, we can’t deny that she is brave, tough and caring towards her friends and parents. Overall, I am happy with this Bloom: she matches the original one’s personality pretty accurately and in terms of physical appearance she does resemble the Original Bloom.

Now Stella… Dear God, what did they do with her… I know I said that Fate: The Winx Saga was not meant to follow the original Winx Club, but I did expect the characters to at least have the same personalities. This is where I am most disappointed. The Original Stella is said to be proud and self-centered, Stella also cares deeply about her friends and family, not just herself. She will stick to the people she loves and do anything to keep them safe. Stella is not always seen wearing a smile on her face, but she does crack jokes to cheer her friends when they are depressed. Basically, Stella has a cheerful and optimistic personality. Besides that, she is totally obsessed with fashion, which clothes look best on her, and which dresses match her face the best. Stella often gives fashion advice to people in Alfea, but this advice is often not taken well. She would rather flirt with Brandon than study and do work, which sometimes annoys the other girls. The most intuitive of all the members, Stella likes to match make but has often had problems with understanding why her friends do not always like getting set up. However, despite her intuitions, Stella can be rather oblivious at times. She was sent to Alfea to become a stronger fairy, but this did not mean so much to her, though she did effectively become a fully accomplished fairy and a powerful one by fighting the first three season villains with the Winx. She uses her magic for anything, but she mostly wants to help her friends as deep inside she is a generous and helpful girl. Although she might disagree with her friends, Stella is very supportive and protective and will not hesitate to help them. She learns to accept that love and friendship are far more important than royalty, fashion, and shopping. Sometimes she hides her true personality because of her upbringing. In short, her cheerful exterior masks great sorrow (Wiki). Well… Where do I start analyzing Fate: The Winx Saga’s Stella… I guess I will take a shot at the similarities first. This Stella is proud and self-centered - which the original one was - and she does like fashion (although I would not label her “obsessed” with it) and gives advice to Alfea’s students… kind of… she mostly critics their outfits - specially Terra’s. Like the original one, Stella was sent to Alfea to become a stronger fairy and rehabilitate from the incident that took place the previous year (meaning that she had to retake the first year again) - in Winx Club, Stella accidentally destroyed the potions laboratory but it is not stated what happened exactly; in Episode 5 of Fate: The Winx Saga, Stella tells Musa the truth of what happened the previous year - that her magic is erratic because of her mother and that that day she lost control and blinded her best friend unintentionally. And that’s about it in terms of similarities… This Stella is dependent on Sky, her ex-boyfriend (still angry at the fact that there is no Brandon, and still creeped out by these two being a couple in the past) and seeks his attention all the time. The Original Stella is the most intuitive of all the members, but to be honest I do not see that trait in this Stella. This Stella is not shown to be a helpful girl nor someone that wants to help her friends, at least not until the end of the season when she tells the others that Bloom deserves to know her truth and that she supports her “I have an opinion. Everyone in this damn suite is so black or white. Bloom is a pain in the ass, but she deserves to know who she is, not the stories the faculty is telling her. Now we can worry about being right, or we can help our friend. Which is it?” (Episode 5). Stella is not a very supportive nor protective friend and only cares about herself… and Sky, and we do not get to see that cheerful exterior the Original Stella showed. This Stella is full of sorrow and sadness, and sometimes this eclipses any other trait she might have. To be honest this Stella is just a bitch most of the time and treats the rest of the people in Alfea like her mother treats her. However, if I put aside the Original Stella for a second, I do think that this version of her can be quite enchanting: she has all the characteristics needed for a great character development in this series, in fact, you can see some change in her towards the end of the season.

Aisha is one of the characters whose personality does not bother me too much, and I do see similarities with the Original Aisha. Winx Club’s Aisha is extremely opinionated and open minded. She is as intuitive and when asked to, gives practical and pragmatic advice. She is also a talented dancer, athlete and speaks many different languages. Aisha gives practical advice and always provides a shoulder to cry on. She continuously shows this caring nature throughout the show, comforting Musa after her conflict with her father, and calming Flora's nerves when she experiences qualms about her feelings for Helia. However, besides the other girls, she might even be the most sensitive of the crew. She has also been shown to be rather stubborn and impatient, something that can get her into trouble by making her hold grudges and jump to conclusions. This could be the result of her isolated upbringing growing up, as she didn't really have many friends, making her come off as a little anti-social at times when she first appeared. Over the course of the seasons Aisha lost her tomboyish side possibly due to her opening up to the Winx and Nabu, but yet she still loves sports and still determined and energetic (Wiki). The Aisha from Fate: The Winx Saga is highly opinionated and she does not shy away from telling the rest her thoughts. She is also quite judgmental when meeting new people: in Episode 1 she helps Bloom end the call with her parents, they engage in a conversation about why Bloom’s parents do not know she is a fairy and when Bloom tells her that the idea of being a fairy is ridiculous, Aisha asks her if she has never read Harry Potter, and the conversation follows like this: B - “Please. If you knew how many hours I have wasted taking Sorting Hat quizzes…” // A - “Ravenclaw?” // B - “Sometimes Slytherin, yeah” // A - “That explains the lies then” // B - “Hm. Let me guess. Gryffindor [silence] Explains the judgment”. She is intuitive, tries to help as much as she can while being truthful (even if sometimes she ends up hurting people) and gives advice - sometimes uncalled for. But, unlike the original one, this Aisha can also seem a bit meddlesome at times. Like the Original Aisha, this one is also sporty and is shown in the series - she goes swimming every morning. Now, what I miss the most in her character is the lack of background… we know the Original Aisha is the princess of Andros, but we know nothing about this Aisha - Who are her parents? Where does she come from? What worries her? Also, we never new why the is unable to control small masses of water… we are just shown that she has trouble with it and that’s it, no more development for her. I think we should have been given more information about her and not just shown the same four traits of her personality all the time.

The next one is Musa and being honest I don’t know what to feel about her. I am not bothered by the changes made but at the same time I am (being honest there is just one change they made that deeply bothers me)… For example, the Original Musa was a fairy of music and now she is a mind fairy - a fairy who feels other people’s emotions (Wikipedia). This is not a big deal, Winx Club’s Musa was able to feels nature’s emotions thanks to the sounds it made and was very in tune with her musical side, this Musa is also linked to music but in a different way - she uses it to scape her overwhelming surroundings - and she is also able to feel emotions, it’s just that instead of natures’s it’s people’s. I guess what bothers me the most is that the Original Musa was Asian and this one is not, I do not get the need to change that about the character… I have nothing against Elisha Applebaum, the actress that plays Musa, but why couldn’t they cast an Asian actress instead? It would have brought more diversity to the show. Now that I have that out of the way, let’s focus on her personality. Winx Club’s Musa loves music, dancing, singing, and playing all instruments, but her favorite instrument is the concert flute, the first instrument she ever learned to play. Musa usually plays amazing music but plays best when she is alone by herself in Alfea in a quiet spot. Despite being the most tomboyish of the Winx, she is perhaps the most emotionally vulnerable, and she balances this by putting up a tough front. Surprisingly, Musa gets the best grades of her friends, as mentioned. Her emotional weakness is the result of her mother's death and her father is far away. She is also a bit of a loner and had a crush on Riven, but they do not admit they like each other until the end of season two when they had their first kiss, which then starts dating (Wiki). When talking about Fate: The Winx Saga’s Musa I feel like we should first address the elephant in the room… no, there is nothing going on between this Musa and Riven, in fact, they’ve had like two interactions in the whole show - I can’t say I am mad about this, we all know Winx Club’s Musa and Riven had a very toxic relationship so maybe this is a good move for this adaptation, and also, Sam seems to be good for her. Now, this Musa has said since Episode 1 that she used to dance and that she loved it just like the Original Musa, but unlike her she doesn’t seem to play any instruments. However, she likes to listen to music alone by herself in her room or a quiet spot. She is also emotionally vulnerable and puts on a tough front. Just like Winx Club’s Musa, this Musa’s emotional weakness is the result of her mother's death which she tells Terra in Episode 6 after she asks her to help Sam ease the pain he is feeling after having been infected by a Burned One: T - “You can’t just run away. He’s in pain. And dad’s trying, but—” // M - “Please just leave me alone” // T - “I know you care about him” // M - “That’s the problem. I can’t feel it. I can’t feel somebody I care about die. Not again” // T - “What? … Musa…” // M - “My mum died last year, Terra. And I was with her, and I felt it, the moment it happened. I felt everything she felt. That’s why I can’t talk about my family, and that’s way I can’t be with Sam now. I can’t feel it. Please don’t make me feel it again”. One thing we don’t know about is wether she gets the best grades out of the group because we have never seen her study. Also, we know that she hates not being able to fight along with the Specialists and she is bother by the idea of having weak powers. Being honest, I am not disappointed with this Musa, in fact, I quite like this character but there are a couple of things I would like to know: once again I would have loved to see the moments she shares with the rest of the group because I can only remember her being open with Terra, maybe if they had included a couple of scenes of her bonding with the rest the friendship would have made more sense. I also wish that in season 2 (if they make it) they focus more on her, she has great potential to expand her powers… maybe let her fight with the rest of the fairies and the Specialists, getting to know more about her family and background, and also giving her more bonding time with other members of the group and not just Terra (but I get why they chose her to be her closest friend, I mean, she is her roommate and is dating her brother).

Now, now, now… let’s talk about probably the most “controversial” character: Terra, not Flora but Terra. This the character that people where most disappointed with when the trailer was released, mostly because she is not Flora. Now, another elephant in the room: a lot of people who had watched Winx Club did not like the idea of having a plus sized character, especially when it was supposed to be a Winx. However, I think it is a great move including a plus size girl - the show being inclusive in this aspect is showcasing that anyone can be a Winx, because your size does not matter at all with the strengths you may have, so I approve this change, I applaud it. Another thing that disappointed fans was the fact that Terra is white - now, we don’t now Flora’s ethnic because it was never stated in Winx Club but many people believe that because of her skin color she had to be Latina… I don’t know about this because Miele, her sister, is white so… I guess you can believe what you want in this case but taking into account that Miele is white, and that Terra is just a cousin then the change made there it’s not that horrible (except that it narrows down the diversity in the main cast of the show). Also, another thing that left audiences speechless was that Flora was in fact mention in the show, but as Terra’s cousin “Shocking. Earth fairy called Terra likes plants. It’s a family thing. I’ve got this cousin called Flora” (Terra in Episode 1), I guess everyone though that the producers making an adaptation from an already existing show would mean that at least the names of the main characters would remain the same, but clearly that was not the case. All of that being addressed, I am still going to compare Terra with Flora, mainly because they are supposed to be “the same” person. So, Flora is shown to be a very calm, soft-spoken, caring, sweet, shy and genuine girl who loves plants and vegetation of all kinds. Being interested in experimenting with her plants, Flora became the potion master of the group who specializes in brewing and creating remedies and medicines from the uses of her magical plants. Due to her gentle and caring personality, Flora is strongly connected to nature and loves helping people. She is shown to have a sensitive personality to the point where she would instinctively care for her friends as well as her plants when they are in distress. Flora is the most mature member of the Winx as she possesses a deep sense of love, peace, happiness and tranquility. However, it is shown that Flora has an insecure side to her personality as she would have problems believing in herself at times. Her insecurity would sometimes cause her to hide most of her feelings to the point where she would have problems expressing them. Flora is one of the most diligent student at Alfea and is cautious of her actions. Although she has a kind-hearted side, she at times gets very angry at her enemies which can cause her to act quickly and show a more aggressive side of herself. As an older sister, she is shown to be quite overprotective who often forgets that people do mature and can protect themselves. Miele often has to deal with this side of Flora whenever the latter suspects a mission to be too dangerous. In this case, Flora has demonstrated some level of ignorance as this attitude tends to hurt Miele's feelings (Wiki). If you have read Flora’s personality, then you would have realized that Terra is just the same. Literally, there is very little I can add here… both of them are very calm, soft-spoken, caring, sweet, shy and genuine girls with sensitive personalities; both of them love plants and vegetation of all kinds; both are interested in experimenting with plants and their properties and creating potions; both love helping people; both have shown signs of insecurity and would have problems believing in themself at times. Terra’s insecurity would also sometimes cause her to hide most of her feelings to the point where she would have problems expressing them. Terra also shows quick responses when it comes to protecting her friends and herself and becomes more aggressive. I guess the biggest difference between them would be that Terra is insecure about her body, in Episode 2 this is clearly seen when she is unable to change in front of the rest of her friends. Overall, I do like Terra, in fact, I think is the best character of them all. I literally have no complains when it comes to her. I declare myself a big fan of Terra.

The next character I am going to talk about is the new addition to the Winx World: Beatrix, who is supposed to embody The Trix in one person. Beatrix is an air fairy who can manipulate electricity (Wikipedia). Now, we all know that The Trix are a trio of witches who act as the main antagonists of the Winx Club series. The group is made up of three direct descendants of the Ancestral Witches, the most powerful and evil witches to have ever existed. They focus on what they are best at: acting maliciously and joining forces with the darkest villains the Magic Dimension has to offer (Wiki). These three witches are Icy, Darcy and Stormy and if my interpretation is correct, Beatrix would have the “looks” of Darcy, the evilness of Icy and the powers of Stormy, however as it was said before she is an air fairy which means that she can manipulate many aspects of the weather spectrum, so her actual powers can be a combination of Icy and Stormy’s. I still don’t know if she is evil or not… I mean, she helped Rosalind but that’s because she saved her when she was a baby so… I don’t know, we’ll see what happens with her in season 2 (if we get one). What we know about her is that she is a troublemaker, and she does not hesitate to kill if it’s needed. She is also a very powerful witch, powerful enough to temporarily damage the protection veil placed by Luna (queen on Solaria) upon Aster Dell and also powerful enough to control other people with electricity. Although we don’t have enough information about her or her background, I think she is a great addition to the adaptation and I’m hoping to see more of her.

Now that I have these characters out of the way I would like to talk about the plot. I actually watched the show trying to forget any knowledge I had about the Winx Club - which was not easy because I breathed Winx when I was a child, and after getting pass the fact that the storylines are completely different, I actually found myself enjoying the show. The plot is definitely a lot darker than Winx Club, but I guess it’s normal, after all this is aimed for young adults and not kids. As I said at the beginning of this post, I do think the show has potential: the plot is interesting and by the end of the show you find yourself seeking answers to all the open questions left. For example: Who is Rosalind and what does she want from Bloom? Why did she take her to Earth? What is going to happen between Stella and her mother? And Sky and his now-I am-not-dead-but-you thought-I was father? And what is going to happen with Silva? What is going to happen to the students of Alfea with Rosalind as Headmistress of the school? What is this war - mentioned by Rosalind in Episode 6 to Farah Dowling - that is about to come? Is Headmistress Dowling really dead? Will we be hearing more about blood witches? Who sent the Burned Ones after Bloom? And many more. I also think that having the Burned Ones as the monsters of this season is a great throwback tho the end of Winx Club’s season 1: if you remember in the war between The Trix and the Magic World, the three witches invoke the dark army to fight for them - these creatures are made purely of dark magic and slightly resemble the Burned Ones, although I am aware of the fact that they are not the same - Burned Ones are zombie-like figures that appear to be able to infect others by cutting them, in addition to possessing superhuman speed and strength.

I have to make a comment here, and that is that I think that the storyline was way too rushed, although I get that there’s so much one can show in 6 episodes of 40 minutes each. Still, I would have liked them to cut down the horny scenes between the characters and showed us more scenes of the main characters backgrounds, their stories, etc. I guess what I missed the most in this series was the friendship that characterized Winx Club. Although by the end of the first season the five girls are friends (in Episode 6 all of them go with Bloom to California to tell her parents that she is a fairy - emotional support - and stayed a few days there, and when they came back to Alfea they did it together laughing and smiling while reaching the school’s entrance), most of the journey that allowed the girls to reach that point was not shown - specially how they get along with Stella and the moments they shared prior to her leaving Alfea at the end of Episode 4. I would have liked to know the moments they shared, because all we got was the same bitchy Stella doing her own thing while the rest shared their moments, so when Stella tells her mother in the car “You could’ve let me say goodbye to my friends” I was left deeply confused and thinking ‘what friends?’… It was a missed opportunity and if there is a season 2 I would like them to show the moments the girls share and how their bond strengthens. Overall, I did like the show and would like to have more seasons with more episodes - 6 were not enough for me. I hope that, if the show gets picked up for another season, that the producers consider focusing more on the girls’ friendship and their stories. I also would like for the Winx to transform like Bloom did and that their wings improve (honestly Bloom’s wings were cool but a little bit meh, I actually think the trailer’s wings were better).

And that’s all my beautiful people, my review on Fate: The Winx Saga.

(Fun fact: Fate in Italian means fairies).

[shachihata]

rating bsd characters on whether i could beat them in hand-to-hand combat

atsushi: probably not. i think i could take him if he didn’t shift but like. The man is literally a weretiger if he was using his ability i’d be gone. What else do i have to say

ranpo: i think so but just because he'd lose interest really quickly like if i put something sweet in the general vicinity of our fight he'd go for it immediately and i could just tackle him and go from there

kunikida: i think the sheer force of his belief in his ideals would knock me the fuck over even if he didn't have his little poetry diary. i think i could get like a hit or two in on him though. it'd be a fair loss

dazai: deceptively strong. also like, a former mafia member. i think the only way i'd win is if he was letting me win but also i'd place pretty good bets on him letting me win

kenji: r u srs

tanizaki: i could if he wasn't using his abilities but i wouldn't because naomi exists

naomi: see above. tanizaki would beat my ass if i touched her

kyouka: i care about her too much to try to beat her up but also she's a trained assassin and she'd win without breaking a sweat

yosano: i think i have less chance of beating her than kunikida just because unlike kunikida i don't think she'd hold back. yosano would for real like kill me and i'd let her because how dare my hubris actually let me think i have a chance of beating yosano

fukuzawa: he's old but on god have you watched that man fight? i would be on the ground. Amen to this gilf

katai: the man is literally a shut-in redditor. say no more

mori: i would just because i hate him so bad. i think elise would be on my side as well. literally sheer force of will would carry me through this fight

chuuya: on god bro chuuya could do it single-handed and blindfolded i respect chuuya too much to even challenge him. Not a fight i'm willing to take

kouyou: like chuuya, i Do respect this milf, but not enough not to challenge her. i think i could beat her but only if i took her by surprise like if we were in a fair match i think she'd win but i'd put up a good fight

ace: god this guy is fr a stickbug like hello? he is so fucking bougie i would snap him in half without his stupid little gem collars he has Nothing

karma: yeah this is just a normal guy and a normal fight i’d give us equal chances at success

akutagawa: this is contingent on whether i beat dazai earlier or not. if dazai had let me win akutagawa would be too catatonic to even enter the ring. if dazai had beat me akutagawa would also put me in the grave just to prove a point

higuchi: yeah i think so. this would be a fair fight for sure higuchi doesn't seem like the type to bend the rules. if she saw akutagawa on the floor she might try harder to defend his honor but i think it'd still be at least a good 50/50

hirotsu: like fukuzawa, this is a deceptively strong old man. like he leads the black lizards. i don't have a chance

gin: would give me a fighting chance out of mutual respect but i wouldn't beat her. she's too capable for that

tachihara: hmm this one's tough. maybe? like he's a trained hunting dog but also he's holding a LOT back yknow. i think i could win if i played dirty and started waxing philosophical about "who's your real family" before tackling him

kaiji: ok you saw him in the fight with yosano, without his bombs he is Nothing. also though he looks like he would literally launch himself at me like a feral animal. i'd give myself like a 60% chance on this one

yumeno: This Is A Child. not to mention that their ability is scary as fuck. yumeno would be the one challenging Me to the fight and i would let them win without asking any questions

sakunosuke: i wouldn't fight this dilf literally on moral grounds. he would tell me to step up and i would just forfeit the match. sakunosuke come back to me i miss you pspspspsps

ango: corrupt government agent desk worker? sign me up. i think he'd definitely get a few good hits on me but i'd knock him out just on principle alone

fitzgerald: i would win. he might be a capitalist who literally gets his superpowers from spending his money but i have a special ability called "i am communist" and with it i would knock fitzgerald off of that fucking whale a second goddamn time

alcott: once again i would win but morally? imagine the cost.

poe: man maybe the guild just isn't a physically strong team yknow. poe looks like he would fall over in a stiff breeze. Poe looks like i could punch him in the arm as a joke and they would feel it for a month

hawthorne: hawthorne looks like he'd call me a slur and if he wasn't using his ability i would pummel this fuddy duddy bitch to kingdom come

mitchell: same vibes as hawthorne ngl i'm pretty sure i could take her. she's a milf though so i'd give her a fighting chance

steinbeck: i think this would be a fair fight. also though i would let him win because he hasn't been in the manga since chapter fucking 44 and i miss him so fucking bad steinbeck PLEASE come back and beat fitzgerald's ass for me

lovecraft: tentative yes? like he doesn't look very PHYSICALLY strong, it's mostly just his "eldritch being" thing that makes him a threat, right? if i played it dirty and like, distracted him enough so he's comfortable and not in a state where he'd want to activate his powers then i think i could get at least a few good hits in on him

lucy: yeah easy as long as we're not in her room with anne. if she wasn't using her ability i could take her down easy but if she was and i had to deal with anne too? no thanks

melville: this is an old man but i don’t think this is a Deceptively Strong old man like fukuzawa and hirotsu. i would feel bad fighting him because he does seem like he’s just chilling but i’d do it

twain: he’s a sniper. hand-to-hand i’d knock him out. look at the way that fruit wears his shirt i’m winning this one

dostoevsky: fuck this guy i could and would choke him like the kermit meme. anemic rat bastard would die in one hit. i just have to get him started talking about god or humanity or some shit and then i would go in for the kill

pushkin: he’s a coward i just have to look intimidating and i already have a leg up on him i could take him out and i would enjoy it. he ADMITS that he’s not that physically strong. he’s gone

goncharov: simply based on dedication alone i don’t think i could win like... the minute he thinks about dostoevsky he powers up like a super saiyan. i would take great pleasure in fighting him though

mushitaro: yeah he'd be no problem. what is he, a writer?? he looks like he lives at his desk in shrimp posture for like 16 hrs a day i could knock him out

fukuchi: this old man would fucking murder me without blinking and also at this point in the manga i'm pretty sure he's functionally immortal because of "plot" "armor." if i fought him there would be a dramatic scene where i think i'm going to win before he pulls some bullshit like he has a multidimensional punch or something that killed me the day i was born and retconned the whole fight out of existence

gogol: i would win but only on the condition that i convinced him beforehand that "winning" is a social construct that he is falling prey to and his "want" to "win" is really a loss of free choice. this is more of a verbal battle, not a physical one

stoker: he is a head impaled on a sword. next question

sigma: augh. i wouldn't fight sigma they've gone through enough. if i HAD TO i would win but only if there was absolutely nothing on the line like this is just a friendly spar between friends because the minute sigma gets desperate they go bark bark bark feral and that'd lower my chances significantly

teruko: trained soldier. i would lose and she would enjoy sucking every last ounce of youth out of my shriveled body. freak

jouno: he might be blind but his ability would let him sense me from like a mile away and he's obviously pretty capable in an actual fight. i think i could give him a black eye before i went down though

tetchou: physical embodiment of no thoughts, head empty. in a fair fight? no. if i took him by surprise, then proceeded to distract him by talking about his weird habits and gossiping about the latest hunting dog drama while slowly wearing him down? maybe. 8 times out of 10 though he'd beat my ass i think

shibusawa: funniest man on the fucking planet he is NOTHING without his stupid little feminine-trait crystals i would break his nose hands down and everybody will clap

[kstewdeux]

Scars On My Heart

Orginally Posted on FFN and Ao3 for @superpixie42

"It's just a stupid cut," InuYasha snapped as he tried to scramble backwards without wincing, "It'll get better in the morning. I don't need you to clean it."

"Oh yes. Whatever could go wrong," Kagome countered scathingly as she watched the black haired boy literally back himself into a corner, "Why bother cleaning a dirt covered wound? It'll just seal up all that dirt in the morning and you'll get blood poisoning. No big deal."

Inuyasha smirked despite himself before his glare returned full force.

"You just want to see me naked," he tried hoping her embarrassment would get her to leave him alone.

"Oh. You got me. That was my plan all along," Kagome bit back sarcastically before giving him a withering glare, "Shirt. Off."

"Make me," he snarled and Kagome sighed.

"You're so immature."

"You're immature."

"Great comeback," Kagome snorted, "Doesn't sound like something a child would say at all."

"I'm not a child!"

"Then stop acting like one," Kagome clipped back as she raised an eyebrow, "You want to keep going? We've got all night and I'm not backing down until you let me see your wound."

The stare down that followed would've sent chills down even Naraku's spine before InuYasha admitted defeat and began shrugging out of his clothes.

"Not like dirt even got on it," he muttered scathingly, "Stupid woman. Being all dramatic."

Kagome ignored the insult as she collected the linens and disinfectant she had laid out. Scooting towards the seething man sending daggers at her with his dark eyes, she gently wiped away the smeared blood before her hand paused. Wiping again, she realized that some of the dark pink streaks weren't blood smears at all.

"What are these?" Kagome whispered as she traced a few with her finger and Inuyasha's angry countenance faded as he looked down.

"Nothing," he replied indifferently, "Hurry up already. That shit burns my nose."

"They're scars," she whispered as her eyes traveled across his chest. It was littered with them. How had she never noticed before?

"Are you blind? They've been there woman," he hissed as insecurity welled in his chest, "Like I said. They're nothing."

"I've never seen them," she replied softly as her gaze drifted upwards to his neck. Several purplish jagged lines adorned his throat. Like multiple someones had tried to slice it at one point or another. A shaky sigh escaped her lips.

"When did these happen?" she asked quietly as she traced a particular nasty one on his throat with her finger causing him to shiver. Not because it felt good either. He'd always assumed she'd been able to see them. A cold feeling of dread settled uneasily in his gut.

"Years ago," he admitted nervously as his eyes searched her face. She looked so sad. He swallowed thickly and unfortunately the movement accentuated the pale purplish lines causing Kagome's eyes to widen incrementally.

There were so many of them. Not one or two or even three. Dozens of people had tried to slit his throat. Dozens.

Forcing his chin up so she could inspect them more thoroughly, she really should've seen what followed coming. Hell hath no fury like an insecure half-demon.

"Get the fuck off" he snapped as he roughly pushed her away before instantly regretting what he'd done when Kagome fell onto her back. Her head making a soft thump as it made contact.

"Wait. Shit. Are you okay? I didn't mean..." he hissed as he scrambled forward and gently helped her back up, "Sorry. I just..."

"It's fine, InuYasha," she sighed as she rubbed the back of her head. He looked more miserable and horrified than she'd ever seen before.

"I hurt you," he whispered as his human eyes seemed to scan her body for injuries before, finding nothing worrisome, he finally relaxed. Kinda.

"I tried to pop the personal space bubble," Kagome laughed softly, "Should've known better."

"The what?" he blurted before the rest of what she'd said registered.

"You think I'd hurt you," he accused as his heart broke and she shook her head.

"I'm not saying that," she comforted as she gave him a reassuring smile, "Just saying I shouldn't have tried to do that."

Whatever she was doing was having the opposite effect of what she wanted. InuYasha suddenly looked so incredibly lost and scared and unsure of himself. Obviously unnerved by what he'd done and upset about what she'd said. If it wasn't so sad, she might've laughed at the uncharacteristic behavior. It was weird. Just...weird.

"Do you want to look at them?" he finally asked as he cast her a quick glance. He could fix this, he thought. He needed to fix this. He'd hurt her. Oh god he'd actually hurt her.

"The scars you mean?" she clarified and he nodded. His mind still replaying the last excruciating minute over and over and over. His self loathing building until he very seriously almost puked. Stupid human emotions. Making him do shit and feel.

"Do you want me to?" She asked hesistantly and he shrugged in reply. Truth be told, no. No he didn't. He didn't like being stared at on a good day. Especially when those stares focused on part of himself that were different.

All this time he'd assumed she saw them. Even on occasion when he felt like punishing himself, he almost thought she found him attractive despite his married skin, and demon traits. The demonic traits she obviously wasn't bothered by but the scars she clearly had never noticed before did. They seemed to bother her a lot.

Was she disgusted by him now? He had just gotten used to her genuine acceptance too. Assuming that she really didn't care about his appearance but now he knew the truth. It was entirely possible her vision was so bad she just didn't know.

Maybe she couldn't see what he looked like at all. That would explain a lot actually.

Either way he needed to fix all of this. He needed to fix it now.

Swallowing thickly, he nodded as he moved back into the corner and waited for the doom that was inevitably coming.

"Why don't I see these when you're normal?" Kagome asked as she scooted forward and began looking at the scars of his chest more closely. The small line over his heart that had clearly been placed there by Kikyo's arrow. The deep purple puckered one where Sesshomaru had thrust his hand through his stomach. But there was a series of healed gashes wrapping around his side that had her particularly concerned.

"I dunno," he muttered awkwardly. Being examined so throughly made him uneasy. She seemed so intrigued by those marks on his skin and not in a good way. Had she really never noticed before? What else had she not seen?

"I normally have dog ears, ya know," he muttered in an unsure tone that had her looking up at him instantly in amusement.

"No duh," she giggled, "What do they have to do with these scars?"

Well that was one less thing bothering him. She wasn't blind as a...

Wait, what the hell? What did she mean what did his ears have to do with...

"Are you really that stupid? I only have these because of those ears. Because of what I am," he snapped angrily as he glared down at her.

"I didn't mean..." Kagome groaned as she sat back on her knees and gave him a patient glare, "I was just wondering why you said that."

"Because you're acting like this," he gestured to his exposed torso, "Is new. Like it hasn't always been there."

"I've seen you literally naked before and you don't have these when you're your usual self," Kagome pointed out with an amused smile that fell when he merely looked confused, "At least to human eyes, I guess. Can you see them all the time?"

He let out a shuddering breath as he tried to get his anger back under control. Why were emotions so much harder as a human?

"They're lighter normally. More silver," he admitted finally as he awkwardly shifted his weight. He'd always assumed...

Maybe the others couldn't see them either. The scars invisible to human eyes. Shippo noticed. InuYasha knew he had. There were times the stupid brat seemed a little too focused on the worst of these blemishes when he thought no one was watching.

"Maybe that's it then," she hummed as she glanced over her chest before her eyes drifted back to those deep grooves wrapping across his stomach from the back.

"What's this one?" she asked quietly as she reached out and ran her finger across one of the shockingly deep valleys. He cringed and sat up a little straighter so his back was nearly flush against the wall. The scars on his chest, though numerous and ugly themselves, were the least of his problems. His chest wasn't a veritable topographical map complete with enough sprawling grooves that someone might mistake it for tree bark. At least the part she was looking at now had some smooth areas.

"It's a scar stupid," he clipped back hoping that the insult would end this line of questioning before swearing silently when her hand suddenly slipped behind him and her eyes widened in horror.

"Let me see your back," she breathed and he shook his head.

"I'm still bleeding," he pointed out as he desperately tried to change the subject, "You need to finish what you started. What about blood poisioning?"

"The bandage will have to wrap around your middle which will require me seeing your back," she pointed out with a knowing look.

"It's not that bad," he argued weakly, "Just put one of those bandaids on it."

"InuYasha," Kagome warned, "Don't make me say it."

"You wouldn't dare," he sneered although she could hear the genuine fear in his tone. She didn't sit him when he was human for a very good reason. The miko had done so once before when he was human and the spell had straight up broken his nose. Blood had gushed out all night after Sango had set it and the resulting bruise took two full days to disappear. To call the incident unpleasant would be an understatement.

"Then lay down and let me see your back," she challenged and the glare off began. Growing in intensity as they shot daggers and screamed at each other through expression alone. The problem he had was that he knew she would never let this go if he didn't fold. Might even be afraid to touch that part of him if she thought it might aggravate injuries long since healed. Kagome riding his back was definitely not something he had any intention of giving up. Which caused a conflict of It's own. If she saw, she might not want to touch him at all. Might be disgusted by the memory of seeing the mottled, disturbing sight.

"I just want to see," she finally asked in a soft, pleading tone as she batted her eyelashes at him and pouted prettily. His resolve wavered at the dirty trick.

"You're still you Inuyasha. I feel bad that I've never noticed before," she tried again in the sweetest, least cheesy tone she could manage and he folded.

Damn her.

Sighing, he slowly sprawled out on the floor, wincing when his still unattended injury hit the gritty floor. So much for worrying about the previously not covered in dirt wound.

Kagome's soft gasp felt like a thousand daggers in his heart. He turned his face away from her and rested his cheek on his arms. She'd never look at him the same again and a part of him grieved the inevitable loss.

"What happened?" she asked as her fingers trailed down the heavily grooved flesh. How could she have missed this? His back normally felt so smooth and this was far from the first time she'd tended to an injury.

"What do you think happened?" he chuckled darkly, "I got hurt."

Clearly, Kagome thought miserably as her eyes followed a strange series of wide loops. They had obviously been stretched over time. As he had grown, the skin had been pulled to match his larger stature.

"These are from when you were small," she whispered as she traced the asymmetrical grooves that were much, much deeper than they looked and were to blame for the wrap around blemish as well.

"Yeah," he sighed heavily. He knew which ones she was referring too. Those had been the first ugly marks he'd received.

"Are they from a whip?" she asked cautiously and he nodded.

"Why?" she asked quietly before huffing in frustration and backpedaling, "I mean I know why, why but I just..."

"My grandfather tied me to a post after mother died," he explained softly, "Something about the plague. I can't really remember."

She let out a shuddering breath and her fingers stilled for a moment.

"Is that how your mother died? She got sick?" Kagome asked as her fingers began lazily tracing the elaborate purplish groove once more and he nodded. Truth be told, it felt nice to have her touch him so intimately. When she usually tended to his injuries touch was just a means to an end. Deliberate and purposeful. This was...

He shivered slightly at the sensation.

"Sorry," she cringed as she retracted her hand, "Did that hurt?"

"No. Just cold is all," he lied softly, "You can keep looking if you want."

"There's so many," she murmured sadly as her fingers splayed out against his back and he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. This wasn't bad. This wasn't bad at all. Why had he fought her again?

"What's this one?" she asked as one finger pressed lightly into a crescent shaped groove above his shoulder blade. He shrugged and the movement caused the marred flesh to crumple around her fingertip.

"I get injured a lot Kagome. You can't expect me to remember each time," he sighed.

"I..." the miko began as she lifted her hand and leaned over to look at his face, "I've been working on using my power to heal injuries. Since you're human right now, would you mind if I practiced? Maybe I can fade some of them. If you want."

The prospect of Kagome basically giving him a massage was very, very tempting. Whatever she wanted to try obviously wasn't going to work but who was he to say no to a pretty girl wanting to run her hands all over him?

He nodded before a satisfied hum escaped him when her palms suddenly pressed against the base of his back, applying slightly more pressure as they began sliding upwards before running down his sides. Again and again and again until he was panting slightly.

His mind lazily drifted into a less than innocent direction as he allowed himself to pretend that she still somehow found him attractive and her hands were running over him for an entirely different reason. It was especially easy to fantasize when her fingers trailed over his hip bone. A little too easy.

This needed to stop before he did something else to fuck up the best thing that had ever happen to him.

"I think that's enough," he sighed as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position.

"I got rid of a few," she offered with a proud little smile that had his heart melting.

"Did you?" he laughed before his face fell and his insecurity peeked out its head in his mind. He needed to get ahold of himself before he got his hopes up.

"I still can't do deeper scars but..." she admitted before trailing off when she noticed how he was withdrawing into himself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asked before mentally smacking herself upside the head. She was just winning the asking stupid questions game tonight, wasn't she?

"I have a scar too," she offered and he glanced at her in confusion, "Do you want to see?"

Before he could respond, she was pulling her shirt up and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head as smooth creamy flesh he'd never gotten a good look at before was exposed for his viewing pleasure. Not only was he allowed to look, he was expected to look and his little, very male heart could barely handle it.

"See? Where the jewel popped out," she commented oblivious to his inner struggle. It wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it was but it was still rather deep. The hot pink puckered blemish the only thing even remotely flawed about her stomach. His hand moved before he could stop himself. His calloused palm resting on her waist as his thumb gently caressed the mark. Trailing up and down over the scar while the sensation of his hand on her skin overwhelmed his system.

His eyes trailed over the light tan curves of her stomach. His mind trying to commit the sight to memory. Counting every freckle and taking note of every minute detail.

"Still beautiful," he whispered more to himself than her before he inhaled sharply and retracted his hand like it burned. He hadn't meant to say that out loud dammit. He hadn't...

"You...you think I'm beautiful?" Kagome asked softly and his heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he waited for the axe to fall. Her hands lowering her shirt slowly as her sapphire eyes tried to read his mortified expression.

Smiling softly, she scooter closer to him and he flinched.

"You think I'm pretty," she teased and his humiliation only grew as he glared at the floor to his side. That was a stupid thing to say. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. St...

He gasped softly when her lips suddenly were pressed against his own. Each meeting slow and lingering and coaxing him to respond and with a soft groan he did.

Panting heavily several long heated moments later, he stared at her in utter confusion.

"Why'd you do that?" he managed to breathe.

"Because I think you're pretty too."

InuYasha snorted before pulling her in so he could kiss her again.

[shiftynightshade]

TW// Suicide Ideation/thoughts, suicide baiting, mentions of self-harm, intrusive thoughts/ bullying/ feeling numb.

Soulmates, everyone has one.

 For Izuku Midoriya, he watches his soulmate's percentages and wonders how his appears to them.

 (Would They Even Want A Quirkless Soulmate?)

 As he stands on the edge of the roof, Kacc- no Bakugou's words float around in his brain. 'Take a swan dive and hope for a quirk in your next life’, the jeers of his classmates (tormentors), All Might’s jaded stare as he crushed his dreams moments before, the heroes cruel glares as they berated him for playing hero.

(He feels a slow numbness enter his body as he stares at the pavement hundreds of feet below him. Maybe the blond was right.)

Just one more step and he'd be free-

Slow warmth erupted on his arm, phantom sensations of ink and a pen scrawling across his arm made his skin tingle.

 Clumsily jerking at his sleeve, he stared in wonder as five shades of ink spread across his skin and danced around his scars, (once stained a coppery red shining in the moonlight), green, pink, blue, and a mix of red and white appearing on his skin and lining silvery skin.

‘Please don’t, we want to meet you, please.’

(Izuku had been told stories of soulmates, how the power of been tied to another being through the galaxy, how it had saved so many other from tipped over the edge. Oh how much he had longed to reach out to his pairs-)

And it has happened, for the first time in months, Izuku felt hope.

He jerked from the edge, breath shaky. Izuku clutched his wrist, a wobbly smile spreading across his face as his skin was covered in a multitude of colours. Izuku scrabbled for his bag, grabbing the first pen he could and quickly pressed it to his skin, hastily writing whatever he coulf.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’

Pink, glowing in a way that looked like a supernova, crawled along his skin.

‘Are you okay? There’s no reason to apologise.’

Blue sped its way alongside the pink, shining silvery blue when the light hit it.

‘Would you like to meet up?’

His answer was instant. ‘Yes’

Five minutes later and five phone number drawn from his skin and into his phone, Izuku carefully left the roof, clutching his phone like a lifeline.

****

Things changed very quickly after that.

He learned his soulmates names, where they lived and their quirks.

He gently wrote their names and quirks down in a new notebook, a little pricier, sure, but as he filled the pages, he found that he didn’t mind.

Each page with a different coloured pen, easily matching the ink on his arms. (So what if he spent forever looking for a blue that shimmered an ethereal silver, or a pink pen that glittered like the stars?)

On Friday night he had stayed up late, gently tracing each name as he counted down the hours until they met the next day.

Ochako, Zero Gravity.

(What will happen when they learn that you’re Quirkless? They’re going to leave you like Bakugou did, like dad did.)

‘Shut up’

Tenya, Engine.

(Do you want to risk it?)

‘They won’t leave me.’

Tsuyu, Frog.

(Like Bakugou promised that you two would become heroes together, and look how that turned out.)

‘It won’t be like that, no empty promises.’

Shoto, Half-Hot Half-Cold.

‘How about you shut the fuck up for once in my damn life!’

It was quiet after that.

****

Izuku waved his mother good-bye as he walked outside the door, her face filled with excitement.

They had agreed to meet up at a café close to the train station, and Tsuyu had sent a picture of the table number into their quickly filling group chat.

And oddly enough, they had not asked Izuku once what his quirk was.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

The sun shone and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Many people roamed around, smiles on their faces as the day went on. Izuku found the café with little trouble, the fairy lights and vines dangling in lieu of a canopy adding a fairy-tale like feel to it.

Glancing around Izuku felt anticipation bubble up under his skin. ‘Am I the first one here?’

Soft laughter reached over from a corner table, easily drawing his attention to a group of three. His eyes met the number of the table. 5.

The brunette girl met his eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds before a large smile crossed her face and she waved enthusiastically. “Izuku!”

Izuku squeaked as her shout drew the other two’s attention, their eyes each widening before smiling brightly and waving him over.

Drawing in a deep breath Izuku walked to the table, giving his own meek wave, sitting in the chair that was between the brunette and boy.

The girl with green hair smiled. “Good to see you for the first time Izuku.” He blushed, but smiled anyways. “Likewise, Tsuyu?”

Tsuyu grinned. “Call me Tsu.”

Izuku nodded, letting out a squeak when the other girl grabbed his hand and gave a positively blinding smile.

“I’m Ochako! It’s great to finally meet you!”

Izuku could feel his face burning. God the energy here was infectious.

The boy next to him smiled. “Please, call me Tenya!”

Izuku mumbled out a breathy “uh-huh” but mostly stared at his eyes. They kept shining different colours whenever the light hit them, first black, the blue, then red, then gold.

‘Like a really pretty version of an oil spill.’

Tenya sent him a questioning glance. “Is there something on my face?”

“Your eyes are really pretty.” Izuku blurted out, stammering out an apology when Tenya‘s face burned a bright red and he buried his face in his hands.

Ochako laughed. “We said the same thing!”

Tsu hummed. “Where is Shoto? He said he would be here.”

A quiet voice piped up from behind them. “Right here.”

Izuku looked up from where he had begun to look through his bag, eyes widening in surprise.

The two-toned hair and scar immediately gave away who he was, even under the hoodie he was wearing. ‘Shoto Todoroki, holy shit.’

Tenya smiled brightly. “Hello Shoto!”

Shoto gave a small nod and sat in the remaining chair, though a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

He let out a small breath. “I’m not going to lie, I’m glad that none of you have freaked out.”

He glared at the table. “I’m not exactly on the best terms with my old man.”

Surprisingly Tenya was the first to speak up. “Fair enough, personally I never really liked Endeavour either.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Even when I was younger he wasn’t a courteous person, even at Hero Gala’s.”

 “Hero Gala’s?”

Tenya froze before letting out a frustrated huff.

“Dammit, not that I’m ashamed of my family or anything, but I don’t exactly like to broadcast it.”

Ochako shook her hands excitedly. “C’mon Tenya! Spill!”

Tenya sighed. “My family has been filled with pro-heroes for generations, it runs in our blood.”

A more proud expression fill his face. “You know the Turbo Hero Ingenium?”

At their nods he grinned proudly. “He’s my elder brother!”

Izuku gasped. “Really?!”  

Ochako laughed. “That’s awesome!”

Shoto stared then cleared his throat. “Where you the five year old that slapped him and told him that he was being mean, and heroes shouldn’t be mean?”

Tsu’s ribbit was startled. “Really?

Tenya chuckled. “Yes, that was me.”

Ochako cackled. “That’s awesome!” Her face turned thoughtful. “Hey Izuku, you said that Endeavour wasn’t the greatest hero, is it because of hoe aggressive he is?”

Izuku nodded rapidly. “Practicality wise he’s a good hero, though theoretically at the same time he’s not the best when it comes to personality and he does have the most damage done when it comes to property, civilians and villains.”  

Looking up from where he had crossed his arms into his ‘thinking pose’, as his mother had described it, one hand cradling his elbow and the other clutching his chin. He quickly realised that his soulmates were staring at him.

“S-sorry, I was rambling again, wasn’t I?”

Ochako smiled. “Yeah, you were. But that’s okay! Kinda cool honestly.”

Izuku let out a small breath, blushing when he noticed Shoto staring at him with wide eyes.

“Izuku, do you happen to be on any hero forums?”

Izuku laughed. “Yup! I like to think that I’m pretty well known on a few forums.”

Shoto leaned forward. “What’s your user?”

Izuku rubbed the back of his head. “The Analyst.”

Shoto let out a wheezy squeak. “You’re joking.”

Ochako looked between them like there was a tennis match. “Wait I’m confused.”

Shoto shook his head incredulously. “The Analyst is an extremely popular user on many hero forums, very well known for his essays and both popular and controversial opinions when it comes to both heroes and how society discriminates based on quirks and gender.”

Shoto inhaled. “And, is considered to be a veteran amongst most users, very respected in the community.”

Tenya chuckled. “You seem to be very well versed in the community yourself Shoto.”

Tsu nodded. “How do you know all this?

Shot/o blushed. “I- Well I have a theory account, on YoTube.”

Ochako leaned over. “Oh really?”

Shoto smirked. “Cryptid Theory.”

Izuku nearly slammed into the table with how quickly he leaned over. “Holy shit, really!?”

Shoto nodded.

“I’ve been subscribed to you forever!”

Shoto opened his mouth only for a waiter to walk up to their table. “Are you lot ready to order?”

Five milkshakes later and Ochako brought up the dreaded question.

“Oh by the way Izuku, you never told us your quirk. Is it analysing or something?”

The rest of the table looked to him, and Izuku sank into his seat to hide behind his glass.

“Uh- I well.”

He cleared his throat, wringing his hands together.

“That’s the thing. I- I don’t have a quirk.”

The four of them stared. Stomach starting to churn, Izuku dug his fingers into his wrist. ‘Shitshitshitshitshit-‘

“Oh, ok.”

Snapping his head up Izuku stared at their expressions, all supportive.

Tenya grabbed his hands gently. “We don’t care that you’re Quirkless Izuku, quirk or no quirk, that’s not your defining trait of who you are.”

The rest of them nodded.

Izuku could easily feel the tell-tale burn of tears gathering along his water line.

He smiled at his soulmates as they quietly panicked at his tears.

“T-thanks.” He sniffled.

Ochako smiled. “Of course.”

Tenya handed him a napkin which he accepted with a small thank-you.

Izuku blew his nose, smiling brightly. “Thanks, I’m okay though, just… overwhelmed I guess.”

Tsu gave a sad ribbit. “I’m going to guess that being Quirkless is really hard, isn’t it?”

Izuku nodded hesitantly. “Other than my mum, you guys are the only ones that haven’t been physically or emotionally abusive.”

Ochako honest to god growled. “Want me to suplex them?”

Tenya nodded. “Plus I’m quite sure that Quirkless discrimination is illegal so you could technically sue the school.”

Izuku frowned. “They always delete the footage though.”

Tenya grinned. “Not if you know the right people!”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a slim laptop with a mischievous smirk. “What’s your school name?”

“Aldera Middle School, why?”

Tenya motioned for them to gather around his laptop, which had already booted up and was giving off a dark blue glow.

Tenya smirked. “Well when your family agency is based around communication and technology, you pick up on a few things.”

As Tenya’s fingers flew over the keyboard Izuku watched in awe as the code for the schools security main frame appeared on screen. “My older brother allows me to help out at the agency most days, so I help run the comms and all Iida’s know how to hack. Sometimes when pursuing a villain we need all out access to doors and security feed, and we also help out with investigations.”

“This is like something straight out of a spy movie!”

Tenya chuckled. “Something like that.”

Seconds later and the security feed was all over Tenya’s screen. “Now all I need to do is a little reversing and…”

Tenya reached into his bag and pulled out a USB, plugging it in and downloading all the footage, both visual and audio files. Once the download was complete Tenya handed the USB to Izuku. “Just in case.”

Izuku nearly burst into tears again. “Thanks Tenya.”

He shook his head. “No problem.”

As Ochako fawned over the whole incident Izuku drew back and smiled, gently thumbing the USB drive.

‘Things might just turn out for the better’

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Light Novel Review - Sexiled Vol. 1

When J-Novel Club announced that they would be releasing Ameko Kaeruda’s light novel Sexiled: My Sexist Part Leader Kicked Me Out, So I Teamed Up with a Mythical Sorceress! I remember seeing some backlash on Twitter for the main title and cover art of the Sorceress, Laplace, exposing a solid third of breasts in a tight black dress. However, I dug a bit deeper into the work (because it is my job to do so) and was very excited at the prospective plot of women kicking ass, kissing girls, and fighting the patriarchy. After reading Sexiled, I am thrilled to say that my expectations were not only met, but exceeded by the length of a massive and impractical anime sword. This book is an excellent work of feminist literature and one of the best light novels I have ever read.

As the long title suggests, the story begins when Tanya Artemiciov, a prodigious mage, is fired from her adventuring party by its leader Ryan. The slimy, sexist, and cowardly antagonist of the book. Outraged, Tanya sets out to the wasteland to blow off steam in a spectacular and curse-riddled manner, when she accidentally releases Laplace, an ancient sorceress sealed away for centuries. After besting Laplace, the two women agree to form a party to enact sweet revenge against Ryan and take down the patriarchal society while they are at it.The story is not subtle at all with its mean themes. From the start, it is clear to the reader that sexist ideas dominate this society. Everything in the story, from the comments men make, “us men are just naturally better equipped for the job” to the oversexualized garments female adventurers are forced to wear, trace back to sexism. Great credit must be given to Kaeruda here, as the examples and instances of sexism are all taken from reality. The scores of female applicants to the mage’s school being docked mirrors last year’s scandals of Tokyo Medical School. Female adventurers are paid less and expected to retire early to start families, reflected the treatment of women in the corporate world. A full comparative list would easily take up half this review.

Not only are so many issues of sexism identified and explored in the light novel, but they are also each confronted by the heroes. Sexiled’s world and characters are typical of a power fantasy series. The protagonist is leagues stronger than anyone else, and the world has game-like qualities, with classes and levels. However, unlike the typical annoying male protagonist whose best defining character trait is “exists,” the women in Sexiled use their incredible powers to obliterate the oppressive systems. It is a pure indulgence to read, as there are few experiences more satisfying than reading descriptions of god-tier characters destroy selfish, egotistical, and demeaning men.

The sexist setting is the main focus of the story, which makes some of the plotlines predictable. However, there is a surprising amount of nuance in some of the issues presented. Tanya has lived her whole lives in this society and is thus blinded to the harsh reality and unfair circumstances around her. One of my favorite moments sees the women discussing armor and how revealing and sexual clothing is demeaning when forced, and empowering when chosen:

“‘Um, Laplace? You forgot to cover up your, uh… chest area.’ Hmm? Why should I?’ ‘Well, weren’t you saying we don’t need to show skin?’ ‘Correct–we don’t need to. But in this case, I want to.’”

Unfortunately, the plot is a bit monotonous. The one-note that is it, powerful women using magic to fight against sexism, is a superb one, but I would have liked to see a bit of variety or actions taken by women that were not solely motivated by men. It is disappointing to see that all the actions taken are in response to the atrocities of society, especially considering how feminist the book is. The points, while important, are merely the blemishes on a masterful work of art and culture. Sexiled remains one of the most engaging, fun, and relevant visual novels on the market.

Speaking of light novels, I have to mention and praise the prose in Sexiled. Usually, the writing in light novels is tolerable at best, and agonizing at worst. However, Kaeruda and the English translator Molly Lee, have done the unthinkable, crafting a light novel that is not only easy but enjoyable to read. Everything from the wonderful descriptions, entertaining dialogue, clever references, and wondrous use of profanity are highly polished and well crafted. A particular favorite of mine is Tanya’s incantation for the spell explosion, “From twilight, I summon the ultimate f***ing destruction! Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; heed my call and unleash your f***ing might! F*** this s***!” Sexiled has become the new bar for light novel localizations! A complete side note, Lee is also translating Seven Sea’s English adaption of the Adachi and Shimamura light novels, which gives me such hope for that series. Before I sing any more praises of Lee and Kaeruda, I should talk about the characters.

Both the main characters in Sexiled are lovely. Tanya is confident, powerful, kind, and a hilarious drunk. She seamlessly transitions between ruthlessness in battle to loving and compassionate when speaking to her friends. However, she never loses the sharp wit that helps her stay refreshing and hilarious. While I adore her, I am entirely entrenched by Laplace, who also goes by some fantastic pseudonyms, including “the Wicked Dragonwhore” and “Stone Cold Stunner.” She has an immense amount of self-confidence and an irresistible bravado. She is also very playful and enjoys teasing Tanya. The interactions between these two make for some of the best moments in the volumes:

“‘That look on your face says you think I’m nothing more than a human-shaped balloon.’ ‘Damn right!’ ‘Wow… I wish you would’ve at least tried to deny it…” They are perfect together.

Many of the female side characters have equally precise and detailed treatments. Nadine Amaryllis, a low-level healer that joins the girls’ party, is likable and has a comprehensive and dramatic backstory that functions as one of the work’s best reveals. Additionally, the minor villain, Katherine Foxxi, is one of the more dynamic characters. She starts blind to the sexism in her world but slowly changes throughout the novel. Unfortunately, Foxxi is also the focal point for one of the book’s only bad sequences. I would not be surprised to see a full redemption story or maybe an anti-hero persona for her in future volumes. However, the male villains are decidedly shallow. In fact, there is not a single half-decent, or even well-intentioned man present in the story. I do not mind, but it is a bit suspect. Other light novels have had similar villains and themes while still allowing for nuance and avoiding stereotyping an entire demographic.

The yuri elements in Sexiled are pretty minimal. Most of the story focuses on the women’s’ quest for revenge and their fight against the patriarchy, leaving little room for romance. There are a few light service moments where Laplace kisses Tanya, such as when she unlocks the mage’s full potential, but other than that, there is no physical contact. However, the strong bonds between the characters are apparent, and they all share a few touching scenes before the final chapters. A particular favorite of mine is Laplace using magic to make Nadine fly. There are also clear indications that the characters have multiple targets for their affections. Both Laplace and Tanya are implied to have interest in Nadine, as well as each other, thus sewing seeds for future romantic plots. While subtle, intense romantic relationships are present, and they add to the story while never distracting readers from it, which is a massive plus.

Sexiled: My Sexist Party Leader Kick Me Out, So I Teamed Up With a Mythical Sorceress! is an absolute must-read. The detailed and phenomenal writing is matched beautifully with strong female characters, hilarious dialogue, and exceptionally satisfying moments. It manages to expose the flaws of our society while providing an escape for those who suffer because of them. It does not make any profound or unique statements but allows the reader to revel in its indulgences. Sexiled is a spectacular masterpiece of fantasy and feminism that far outpaces other works in its genre and medium. This book is easily a new obsession of mine, and I cannot wait for the English release of volume two.

Ratings: Story – 10 Characters – 9 LGBTQ – 3 Lewd – 2 Final – 9

You can purchase Sexiled digitally now on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2J14WCj

Review copy provided by J-Novel Club

[monstersandmaw]

Winter Solstice - Chapter Two

Who remembers my Fae Realm? I posted Chapter One of a new story, set in that universe, on Winter Solstice night. Part Two was posted on my Patreon a week ago, and I had some great responses and comments on there, so here’s part two for you folks!

Previously: our human found herself attacked by a strange, rabid creature from the Fae Realm, and despite its size and raw power, she managed to get in a lucky strike with her belt knife, though not before it sank its teeth into her neck. Poisoned, bleeding out, and on the brink of death, she begged help from a small party who had apparently been hunting the creature. Only as she passed out did she realise that they might also be Fae...

This time: she wakes in her strange new world, and meets some of its inhabitants, including the prince of the Court of Winter himself, who has to decide what he's going to do with her now that she's healed...

Wordcount: 4039

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The world was quiet around her, and for a moment she thought she was waking in her bedroom on the morning of a fresh snowfall. The quiet pressed against her ears until she had to open her eyes. The house was too still. Her younger brothers should be scampering about and getting underfoot, her father should be in the workshop at the back of the house, the treadle lathe turning bowls and other goods to sell at market, and her older brother and sister should either be screaming at one another or tending to their own tasks. Her mother should be hammering out new horse shoes in the small forge across the yard, and Teasel the dog should have been barking.

And yet there was nothing but the silence of snow.

Blinking dazedly, she tried to sit up, but everything hurt and ached when she moved, and she fell back with a gasp against a pillow that was much too soft to be her own. It was only then that she realised she was not in her own bedroom at all.

The room was ornate as any in the palace of the human kings. Pale blue walls rose to a delicately plastered ceiling, and in the middle of it hung a chandelier that was anything but ordinary. It looked like a diamond had been shattered into a hundred fragments and then suspended in the pattern as it burst apart. Each shard of crystal glimmered with fae light, a blue as pale as starlight, sending glittering sparkles around the room.

The covers of her bed were softer than any fabric she had ever touched, and as she attempted to lever herself upright for a second time, her dark eyes went wide at the view beyond the leaded, mullioned windows. A snow-covered mountain slope, devoid of life, plunged away in one direction down into a wild and rugged valley and in the other it reared up into an impossibly high mountain whose peak was lost in wreaths of thick, white cloud.

Clear light flooded in through the windows, and as she pushed back the covers, the horror of that creature’s jaw around her neck came flashing back in vivid, painful clarity. Screwing her eyes shut, as if that would have any effect on the images imprinted into her mind, she sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering her thoughts, when there came a knock at the door.

Fae. She had stumbled upon something that had escaped from the Fae Realm, and it had nearly killed her. Scowling, she remembered vaguely begging someone for help.

“Oh gods,” she groaned, bringing her fingertips to her temple as the memory of swirling, silver-blue filigree stitching on fine, supple boots, long silver-white hair, and a face more handsome and more terrible than any human could ever be flashed across her mind. A strange, ever-shifting, quicksilver mask drifted into her mind as well, though she wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, and a tall, dark creature with the ragged stump of a wing protruding from the leather of their jerkin, the other hanging in tatters down their back.

There hadn’t been just one Fae in those woods at all.

“Are you awake yet?” a high, almost girlish voice asked softly from the other side of the door, and she jumped, staring wildly around for some kind of weapon, though the closest thing she found was a staggeringly expensive looking vase which held what looked like cut-glass flowers. Short of nothing, it might do, she thought, and stepped a little closer to the polished wood of the table on which the vase glittered innocently.

When she didn’t reply, the door clicked open and an elegantly dressed Fae stepped in.

“Oh,” she crooned. “You are awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like whatever the hell that was chewed me up and spat me out…” she croaked, biting back a snarl.

She was not wearing her own clothes any more, and her horror of her latest realisation must have shown on her face because the golden haired beauty in the doorway smiled gently and said, “Your riding leathers were quite ruined, I’m afraid. Wraith venom will do that to almost anything. I’m sorry. Our healer is very discreet though. She only tended to your wounds.” Her deadly smile said that the healer could have done all sorts of other secretive damage to the fragile human’s body, and she would never have known any different.

“Where am I?” she demanded, meeting the Fae’s honey eyes with her own fiercely dark gaze.

“You are in the House of Winter, human,” she said. “A guest of the Prince of Winter himself.”

She let that sink in for a moment before standing and meeting the fae’s eye again. “I want some proper clothes,” she said, “And I want to go home.”

The tiniest of smiles played at the corner of the peachy mouth of the Fae in front of her, but she made no comment other than to say that there were clothes in the wardrobe, and that she would wait outside while she dressed.

The sound of voices rose beyond the door above the rustling of her clothes as she stepped into them. They were almost an exact match to the riding leathers she had lost, and she shivered as she wondered what kind of Fae magic had been used to create them so quickly, and in her size. Two male voices rumbled quietly in chorus with the already familiar female’s, but as she went still to try and listen to their conversation through the door, they all fell silent, and a few seconds later, the female called out, “I assume you’re decent?”

She didn't answer, but turned around to check her reflection in a disgustingly ornate mirror on the wall opposite the bed.

The Fae woman returned, this time with two others who loomed behind her like bodyguards. With a chuckle as she watched her face change as she stared at the two of them, the Fae woman purred, “Meet my esteemed colleagues, human. That’s Ahrin. He doesn’t speak much,” she laughed softly, flicking a fond smile in the direction of the tall, powerfully-built Fae on her left. If she looked closely enough, beneath the dark tips of his hair which just bushed the nape of his neck, she could see what looked like grey, twisting tattoos over his darkly tanned skin that crawled up from beneath the black, high collar of his jerkin and around over the front of his throat to his jawline. She shuddered.

His golden brown eyes flickered with some emotion before the mask of his stern expression slid into place. Behind him, the tattered remains of one, bat-like wing shifted slightly, and she didn’t dare think about the ragged stump of the other that she’d glimpsed poking through the slits in the back of his leathers.

“And you are?” she said, slanting an eyebrow upwards towards the beautiful woman who had begun the introductions.

“Oh,” she trilled, turning back to face her, her lovely golden hair flashing in the sunlight. “I’m Mirana. Círdan’s sister.”

She fought to remember the face of the Fae in the forest, the one with the simple crown around his silver-white head. “You don’t look much alike,” she muttered.

“No, well,” she hedged, bringing a hand to flick away an imaginary speck of dust from her left cuff. “Adopted siblings don’t tend to share many physical traits, do they?” she added with an icy inflection.

Adopted; that was interesting. She stowed the information away for another time, and asked, “Why am I here?”

Another figure then stepped forwards from his place beside Mirana, his tall, lean body moving like a cat in the shadows. He looked like a blade freshly drawn from a whetstone; wicked, sharp, and ready to kill with a mere flick of his ghostly pale wrists. His irises were so pale that she initially thought he might be blind, but there was the faintest hint of blue to them, and his vision was clearly not impaired as he stared straight at her. The only lick of colour to him was the slight, dusky pink to his lips. The rest of him was white all over, from his long white hair to his skin, and even his robes were a pale grey damasked with frost.

Mirana’s bright gold eyes tracked him as he moved, and she let out a surprisingly girlish giggle. “Now, now, Raeth,” she snickered. “Play nice…”

“You’re here, human,” he said in a voice like broken glass, “Because you’d been bitten by a wraith. Our prince didn’t want you dying, for unfathomable some reason, so he brought you here.” He narrowed the distance between them so quickly and so smoothly that she almost didn’t notice until he was standing mere inches from her. A coldness emanated from him, reminding her of holding her hand a hair’s breadth from the window panes in winter, afraid to touch it. “And he’s curious to know how you managed to kill that wraith, even with its foul poison pumping through your pathetic mortal body.”

“We all are,” Mirana cooed. Ahrin’s face remained impassive, but there was an intensity to his stare that spoke volumes of his own interest.  

“You can’t know all that much about humans if you’re wondering about that,” she snorted, turning away from the stern, monumental beauty of his face. She crossed the room to gaze out of the windows and give herself some space to think and breathe. With three of them standing in the room with her, their presence was almost chokingly intense. “And where the hell is ‘here’?”

Mirana approached with a slight rustle of her dress, and stood beside her at the carved, white marble window frame, her gaze as hard and distant as the mountain sky beyond. “This is the House of Winter,” she smiled.

“That just tells me ‘what’, not ‘where’,” she grumbled, laying her fingertips on the sill and staring at the bleak and beautiful scene before her. Ahrin – at least she thought it was him – gave a quiet snort that might have been approval, but he said nothing, leaving her to the privacy of her astonishment.

Beyond the plunging, high walls of whatever the ‘House of Winter’ was, there was nothing but empty, snow-blanketed, rocky valley for miles, until the far end of the glacially carved dale where something glimmered. “The sea…” she whispered after another few moments.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Mirana smiled almost kindly before turning to look down at her. “Now, come on. Círdan won’t want to be kept waiting much longer.”

A thrill of fear plummeted through her, and she whipped around, eyes wide.

The tall one, Raeth, stepped forwards and took her gently but firmly by the upper arm, steering her from the room. He did let go of her once she was in the corridor, much to her relief. His skin was like ice, his grip hard and unyielding. If she’d thought that chamber had been ornate, with its carved ceilings and delicate, spun-sugar furniture, she gaped openly at the corridor beyond. The only colour in the whole palace came from the tapestries on the walls. They glimmered, as fresh as the day they were hung, though something about their style told her that their subjects had been staring down from their positions atop great griffins and warhorses, hunting stags and sitting beside roaring, gold-embroidered fires, for hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years.

She kept silent as she moved through the gleaming palace, its stone the same hue as the snow outside. Flanked on each side by Raeth and Mirana, and followed behind like a terrible, hulking shadow by Ahrin, she allowed herself to be led to the great hall, where the carved doors sported a snow scene of wind-blasted pines, craggy cliffs, and, split across the centre of the two doors, a beautifully-rendered palace: the House of Winter, she supposed; the centre of the Court of Winter.

Before she could admire it properly, the doors drew open on silent hinges, and she saw the incredible hall beyond.

The ceiling was made of shards of ice like a cavern, or perhaps even diamond. Jagged facets glittered, throwing light off every surface, and encrusted chandeliers glimmered with unearthly, greenish blue foxfire. The sight of the incredible ceiling stole her breath and her feet faltered for a moment as she forgot to be afraid beneath the majesty and sheer craftsmanship of the hall. The smooth, white walls, like untouched snow, glittered faintly too, sweeping up into the vast vaults of the geode ceiling, and on the left side of the hall, slender, crystal windows opened out onto the bare mountainside beyond, the daylight shattering into a million shards as it hit the jewels of the hall.

And, seated on a dais at the far end, on a throne made of what looked like shards of ice, sat the Fae she remembered from the woods.

His head was bowed slightly, and he sat slumped sideways in the throne, as though bored and tired. He rested his chin on his balled fist, his elbow on the arm of the throne. That mask was still across the right hand side of his face, part-covering his right eye and stretching down his cheek almost to his chin. It looked like it was made of quicksilver from the way it rippled and shifted with the bones of his jaw beneath as he licked his lips, straightened slightly, and called down the hall, “Ah. Finally… you’re here. What took you so long?”

“Apologies, my prince,” Raeth drawled, not really sounding contrite in the least. “Vitha’s healing took a little longer than we’d anticipated. Turns out humans really are entirely different from us, and what she tried first actually made the poison act more quickly.” He cast a sidelong look at her, his grey eyes dancing for a moment - the first expression she’d even glimpsed on that mask of stern coolness - and added, “She didn’t scream too much, but it took a while for her to regain consciousness.”

“And when she did,” Mirana interrupted, gazing down at her as well, “There was all the tedium of ‘where am I?’ ‘who are you?’ ‘what do you want with me?’ etcetera, etcetera…”

Even though she was still only halfway down the grand hall, she could see that only one side of his lips smiled. Although the other, the right side, was masked by the strange, pooling, liquid, when he spoke there was a slur to his words that suggested his mouth didn’t move properly. She shuddered to think what might lie beneath that mask, and who could have done that to a Fae prince with all the power they must hold.

“Oh well,” he sighed, pushing himself to his feet and striding down the hall towards her on long, lean legs. Raeth and Mirana drew back a pace or two, and bowed their heads; a gesture which he ignored.

He was over a foot taller than she was, and he snorted a slightly amused laugh as she inhaled deeply, begging the fleeting, scattered remnants of her courage to come crawling back into her heart, and finally looked up to meet his eyes.

They were the silver grey of a snowy winter sky, of moonlight on the sea, and they transfixed her to the spot so utterly and completely that she forgot to breathe. All her life, she had been told that Fae were tricksy but weak; that Fae were slaves; that, once caught and held iron collars, they were nothing more than the playthings of kings and nobles, who dangled them on chains of iron and made them dance and perform for their pleasure.

But now she was in their realm, and this Fae was anything but weak.

With the grace of a dancer, he extended his glacially pale thumb and index finger to her chin and held her, appraising her as if she were a horse for sale. The urge to bite him, like the angriest, nastiest, most bitter chestnut mare she’d ever encountered, welled up in her, and a footstep on the marble floor behind her rang out a warning.

Círdan’s eyes flickered to the figure standing behind her, to Ahrin’s face, and he smiled. Something wordless seemed to pass between them, and the prince nodded.

“Well, you are clearly healed,” he said, sounding bored as he released his icy hold on her and turned away. She noticed the slight, rocking limp to his gait as he moved gracefully to the window and gazed out. His long silver-white hair spilled down his back, loose, free, and un-plaited. In a room surrounded by filigree and fantasy, he seemed almost plain, save for the ethereal mask that shrouded half his face. He sighed. “I suppose I should send you back.”

She caught the way the others stiffened, tensing like wolves that sensed lurking danger.

“Highness,” Raeth began but he cut off at an icy glare from the prince.

“Círdan,” Mirana purred, stepping towards her brother like a lioness. “If you send her back, the shadow will sense her. They will sense your healing magic on her.”

She frowned. His healing magic? Hadn’t they said that the court healer, Vitha, had been the one to tend to her injuries from the frantic fight in the snow. She warded off images as they flashed across her mind of the terrible jaws of the wraith as it had clamped down on her neck, latching onto her like a leech while its slimy, shadowy body had writhed and flailed. Only when she’d managed to free the knife at her belt with ichor-slick fingers had she been able to stick it deep into the creature’s belly, even as her blood turned fire in her veins.

“Are you seriously suggesting I should keep a human here, in my court?” he sneered, turning to face her fully. The laugh that followed his question was hollow and cold. “Keep her as my little human pet in a mockery of what they do to us beyond the Veil?”

“I am advising you, my prince… brother…” she said carefully, “That if you loose her back into the human realm like a little rabbit that smells of us, she will lead the wolves right to us. We do not know what the consequences will be. The shadow may come for her. It may find her, and through her, it may find you.”

“The walls of my territory are well warded,” he snapped. As he turned sharply away, however, she caught a wince flash across his face, and his right knee buckled just a fraction. Had she not been working all her life with horses, studying with her mother, and had she not trained her eyes over the years to catch any stiffness, any irregularity in a gait, she might have missed it entirely. It was there though, plain as daybreak to her.

“Highness,” Raeth reasoned gently, stepping closer to his prince’s retreating back. The two of them could have been cousins, she realised, with the paleness of their skin and the particular, ghostly hue of their hair. There was even a similar sharpness to their bone structure like an echo or a reflection.

The feathery patterns on the prince’s pale blue coat shifted as he moved, like frost on a window caught in the sun. She might have found him beautiful if all this weren’t so terrifying and so utterly alien to her. They were deciding her fate and she could do nothing more than stand there like a mute puppet on a shelf.

Círdan paused and glanced over his left shoulder to look at Raeth. “What would you have me do?” he asked in a rasping whisper. “Keep her here as a prisoner? As a pet? The way they keep captured Fae? Would you have me be no better than them? Or perhaps you would rather I behave as my brethren in the Summer Court do, and have her leashed with golden collars, and bedecked in gauzy jewellery and body paint, and not much else, for my ‘amusement’?”

The very idea of that repelled her and she fought off another snarl. Ahrin caught her eye briefly and something flickered across his rough-hewn features that might have been a quirk of the lips. It might just have been a passing shadow, however.

“It’s better than having her lead the shadow straight to our court,” Raeth countered flatly, not rising to the prince’s taunts.

A fire that had been kindling slowly flared suddenly hot in her chest and she spoke up for the first time since entering the hall. “You saved my life from that thing in the woods,” she said, her voice sounding pitifully small and thin compared to the way theirs had filled the space like trained actors on stage. “You really think I’d betray you? You think so little of humans?”

Círdan cocked his head slightly to one side and chuckled. Once again, was an icy laugh, with no mirth, and it sent shivers running along the insides of her bones as he approached. He stared at her a long time; expression blank, eyes cold. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, his voice no louder than the whisper of winter wind through bare branches. “You will remain here until I decide,” he said. “You may wander these halls freely. No one will harm you, but you are not to leave the palace, and you are not to pry about.”

“So I can wander freely, but not get too curious?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

A flicker of what might have been healthy amusement flitted over his cold expression, but it was gone as soon as she’d thought she’d seen it. “Precisely,” he said, carefully enunciating the word. As he did, he peeled his lips back into a slightly lopsided smile that bared his teeth, and she gasped, seeing two sets of canines, the second, larger pair in place of premolars. “Now get out before I change my mind and have you locked in your room. Mira, see to her.”

Mirana bowed and turned to look at her. “Well,” she said patronisingly, “What would you like to do?”

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she said, voice dull and sullen.

Ahrin snorted and stepped close to Mirana’s ear, leaning down and whispering something that was for her alone.

Her human ears merely detected a dead kind of rasping, but no words.

Mirana nodded, and in a rush of dark, roiling shadows, Ahrin simply vanished. “You’ll get used to it. He’s part shadow-wraith, you know?” she smiled. “But it can be a bit disconcerting, I’m sure. Now, first things first, what would you like me to call you?” she held up her hand swiftly and added, “You don’t have to tell me your true name, of course, but I can’t bear to keep calling you ‘human’, or ‘girl’ or something.”

Never tell the Fae your name; that was one of the first things every human learned as a child. They had few powers in the mortal realm, but once they knew your name, they could witch you and bring you back through the curtain that divided your world from theirs, and then you would be at their mercy.

“Human is fine,” she snarled through clenched teeth.

“Oh come now,” Mirana pouted. “Fine, I shall give you a name.”

“No. I want nothing more from you than I have already accepted,” she said hotly, glancing back over her shoulder.

At the far end of the hall, Círdan stood on his dais, one hand resting on the ice throne. His eyes bore into her, even from that distance, blazing with some emotion she couldn’t read.

Mirana sighed dramatically and threw up her hands. “Fine. Human it is. But I don’t like it.”

“Nobody asked you to like it,” she snapped back, and she could have sworn she heard a softly amused chuckle ripple down the hall from the prince of winter at the far end.

To be continued...

Fae Realm Stories

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

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I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier or higher!

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[thetypedwriter]

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review

Loveboat, Taipei Book Review by Abigail Hing Wen 

This book is solid. The few people I’ve foisted conversation onto about this book have heard me lavishly declare it to be the YA teenie-bop version of Crazy Rich Asians. 

And while I maintain that my statement above is still true, the book also contained some other elements that either came across as a breath of fresh air or a polluted cloud of toxicity that made me cough and wheeze. 

As for the general synopsis, it’s pretty simple all things considered. You have Ever Wong, a senior who is stressed about college applications, her own future potential, disappointing her parents, and ignoring the unrequited love she has for her best friend’s boyfriend. She also happens to be Chinese-American. 

Ever’s identity as growing up Asian in the predominantly white-as-bread state of Ohio is kicked off quite strongly from the get-go. Ever talks about how the said pining of her best friend’s boyfriend could have not been pining and instead could have been her, but that he was unwilling to put up with her crazy Asian parents and their strict limitations. 

She talks about how her dad, a revered surgeon in Taipei, has been relegated to pushing medical carts in hospitals in the States for the last twenty years as they wouldn’t recognize his medical degree. 

She discusses how she and the only other Aisan kid in her class have an unspoken rule of not looking at each other or calling attention to one another as to not emphasize their Asianness. 

As you can probably tell without having me list off a litany of other examples, this book heavily concentrates on race, identity, family, and self-control. 

At the beginning of the novel, Ever is a shy, timid girl whose willing to give up her dreams of dancing because it’s what's expected of her after all her parents have sacrificed to raise her in America. 

But then her mother sells her black pearl necklace to send Ever to Chien Tan, an immersion program in Taipei where thousands of Asian-American kids are sent for the summer, for the purpose of learning the culture, language, and other specialized skills like Chinese medicine, calligraphy, ribbon dancing and stick fighting. 

Ever is reluctant at first, desperate to stay back and find a way to keep dancing, but as her mother literally throws her leotard in the dumpster, Ever knows it’s a losing battle. 

So she goes. And she is amazingly transformed. 

The rest of the book details Ever’s excursions with finding friends and love, immersing herself in the culture that Taipei has to offer, coming to terms with her own identity and race, growing up, making mistakes, hitting a low point, and then getting back up again to achieve her dreams and fight for what she believes in. 

Now, the highlight of this book is definitely the representation, the talk of race and culture, and the actual experiences of Chien Tan, more commonly referred to by the kids who attend as Loveboat, drawn from the author Abigail Hing Wen herself. 

Loveboat, as they call it, is an actual program that the author Wen and others attended and still attend. It’s obvious just from reading how much of Ever’s experience is drawn from the author’s herself and that IS ALWAYS AN AMAZING THING. 

One of the first pieces of writing advice I Ever (hahahha sorry, not sorry) received was to write what you know. Wen does this and knocks it out of the park. Loveboat comes alive with her writing, flowing from page to page seamlessly. 

She crafts it with such care and consideration that you feel like you’re there yourself, down to what the dorms look like with sticking doors, what they serve for breakfast, and the electives offered for academic selections. All of these little details brought such life and realism to the story and it made it an incredibly engaging read. 

Add on Wen’s real talk of race, racism, identity, and the struggle for identity, and you indeed have a delectable concoction of raw representation from a person of color who has experienced these things first-hand. 

Authors of color and representation in YA of characters of color have improved drastically in the last few years, but it’s still something to be expanded upon, drawn from, and encouraged and explored. 

Wen’s story is almost entirely made of Asian teenagers of differing backgrounds and experiences, and it was honestly so nice to not read about another white girl from a white girl. The story was real and filled with culture and struggle, but also beauty, friendship, and acceptance. 

All of these things hark back to why I call this book solid. 

Now onto why I don’t call this book great. 

I legitimately would have preferred if this book focused more on Ever’s identity as Ai-Mei, her struggle between wanting to be a dancer and not crushing her parents’ soul by rejecting the medical career they so want her to be in, and immersing herself in all the wonderful sights, smells, and experiences Taipei had to offer.

 Of course, love and friendship and drama should play a role, this is YA after all, but personally I felt like the romance dominated the book almost entirely, shoving the questions of race and identity and struggle to the backdrop of a pretty redundant love triangle. 

Which. We’re over the love triangle people, stop writing them. 

But really, I understand that the two don’t need to be mutually exclusive, and oftentimes, Ever’s struggle with her race and identity went hand-in-hand with her struggles for romance, but there was JUST. SO. MUCH. OF. IT.  

It was like an episode of the Bachelor if the Bachelor would stop casting white people as their main lead. Every other chapter was a pretty cliched rendition of some kind of romance trope: the bad boy that draws, the arrogant boy that predictably has a heart, but also a girlfriend, the so-called girlfriend flying out to Taipei, the evil stuck-up girl, literal running into chests moments, shirtless of course, and so many more to offer. 

For an author doing incredible things on the front of representation and real talk about stereotypes, racism, and prejudice, I found her book pretty stereotypical of a YA romance itself. 

There were several plot points that were also just incredibly predictable (the nude photos, my god, saw that from a mile away) that made reading this book just a little bit lackluster when I otherwise was really enjoying it. 

Unfortunately, the biggest turn-off this book had for me other than the recycled plot and the ridiculous, predictable, rampant love triangle were the characters themselves. They all kind of...sucked. 

They aren’t awful, by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re also not special either. Other than the fact that they’re Chinese, Chinese-American, or identify as another minority, and the implicit struggles and nuances that come with it, they were like any other archetypal character that I tend to dislike. 

By that I mean that many of the characters I found extremely one-dimensional. 

Each character had about two things about them that defined their whole characters. 

Now, not to blind you with my nerdiness, but other than books, I also am quite the connoisseur of anime. This book, in a lot of ways, comes across as a printed form of anime to me. 

There is a term in anime called Isekai which roughly translates to “accidental travel” and is saturated with shows all about people falling into magical worlds unpredictably. 

Additionally (stay with me here), anime is also quite infamous for having very archetypal characters where one or two traits dominate their whole being so completely as that is the only thing about them that comes across. 

Loveboat, Taipei in my eyes, is literally a print form of an Isekai. Which is not a compliment.

I really wanted to like Ever, Sophie, Rick, and Xavier, the predominant characters along with a whole cast of others. But I kind of...didn’t. Frankly, there wasn’t much to like or know about them. 

Ever’s character was dominated by her love for dancing and her determination to break from her parent’s protective shell, Sophie was a bossy bitch, Rick was Wonder Boy incarnate, Xavier was brooding and artistic-see where I’m going here?

Even the side characters were all identified by one thing-Marc with politics, Matteo with anger, Benji with being baby-faced. I understand that this is one novel and that it’s extremely hard to flesh out characters and unfold nuances and depth, but I personally found Loveboat, Taipei to be lacking in this quality, exceptionally so. 

Ever especially I found irritating. On some levels, I understand that Wen was trying to depict her as a flawed character who makes mistakes and learns from them, trying to represent the growth of her character and blooming into herself, but more often than not, I found her selfish, immature, and aggravating. 

When you add on that Rick is head-over-heels in love with her (as is Xavier) for reasons that don’t really make sense or are legitimately earned in the story, then the romance feels forced and falls apart, hence me wishing Wen focused more on other elements rather than romance. 

This plot contrivance, everyone, is what I lovingly call Bella Swan Syndrome-when a hot guy or vice versa falls in love with someone who legitimately doesn’t deserve it or the love is inorganic or just flat out doesn’t make sense. 

Wen attempted the whole hate-to-love thing, which I love, but also which I genuinely think failed here due to the romance being subpar and undeserved. 

Combine my lack of any real attachment to any character with the trite that was the romance, but mix it in with the praises above of realism and representation and you end at solid. 

Recommendation: If you are sick of the white people, I hear you. If you’ve been looking for books heavily centered on POC characters or written by authors of color, then I’m with you there as well. This book is a great novel for discussions of race and identity and for those Crazy Rich Asians fans out there. However, do not expect this to be the pinnacle of romance, story, or characterization, which unfortunately, falls below average on this one. 

Score: 6/10

[the-omni-princess]

Blood Bound [Chapter Five]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Vampires and witches have been known enemies since the dark ages. Backstabbing, secrets, and magic turned supernatural brethren again each other. As a natural-born witch, you grew up on these stories, your own monsters under your bed. What happens when one of those sworn enemies claims that you are his blood mate, the vampire equivalent of a true mate? Will you give in to this man out of time? Or destroy him for the sake of your Coven?

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing, mentions of death, major character death, talks of death, talks of a historical event with a twist

A/N: So, this was supposed to be for Halloween so Happy Halloween! Lol, this series was supposed to be done by Halloween and I think I’m like halfway through. I had two lab reports and a test today and its two am Im ded

Enjoy!!!

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[Series Masterlist]  [My Masterlist] [Playlist Inspired by the Series]

-

----

Sleep in Bucky’s arms was virtually dreamless, which after the day you had had, was a sweet relief. Once you woke up, you could only remember a fraction of your remaining dream. A peaceful scene, you and Bucky laying in a field of flowers, smiling, talking about nothing in particular. It seemed awfully familiar. Maybe you were really- no. That simply was impossible. There was no way you were reincarnated. But why did everything feel so familiar? Like home?

The sun filtered in through your balcony, the curtains were slightly open. Cool arms were wrapped around you protectively, cool breath fanning against your neck. You bit back a giggle, hearing Bucky snore behind you. His hand shifted slightly lower, resting against your abdomen, sending a wave of flashes before your eyes. Hands. Warm, big, pulling, gentle, soft. Light kisses below your ear. Whispers of love. A murmur of “Sweetling.” Contentment. Sated.

As you gasped softly, the memory fled, slipping through your fingers like sand. Bucky groaned softly behind you, “Are you alright?” Concern laced in his sleep heavy voice.

“It was nothing, I think it was a flash of a memory…” you indulged. Okay, maybe this whole reincarnation theory would explain all of this memory flashes, but it seemed ridiculous.  “Guess, for the time being, we both have memory issues,” you teased. Okay so maybe you were using humor as a coping mechanism but finding out you had a vampire soulmate was a little overwhelming.

You could feel him smiling into your neck as he looked at the glow in the dark stars on your ceiling. “So, I gather you like stars?”

Your pulse beat just inches from his fangs, and yet you felt nothing but absolute trust in the one creature you weren’t supposed to trust. It was alarming how you unequivocally trusted this man. “I love them. The stars guide our everyday lives without even realizing it.”

“Spoken like a true witch,” he sighed softly, unable to stop smiling. “Creeks… you also used to like creeks and springs in the woods,” he murmured. “Right before a storm as the skies darken and the lights leave the forest floor.”

“Mountains,” you mumbled absentmindedly. “You liked the snowy mountains because as spring thawed the ice, it brought me more streams.” You let your eyes close, leaning against his touch. It felt gratifying to remember something. Okay, fine. Maybe you really were Theo. But how?

Bucky tensed behind you, interrupting your existential crisis thoughts, soft growling sounding from the back of his throat, sending shivers down your spine. “Someone’s here.” His grip tightened on you, protective.

“Probably the Coven, Bucky it’s okay, as long as Carol isn’t the one to find us like this.” You turned in his arms, a little surprised to see crimson red eyes staring towards your door. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling a small beat below your fingertips. You quickly moved your hand, that must have been your imagination. Vampires didn’t have heartbeats.

He sat up, tensed, hair standing up on the back of his neck. “It’s not your Coven Sisters. I know their scents, this is different. It smells like witch, and wolf.”

Stretching, you stood, “I think I know who it is, calm down,” you sighed softly. “But he can probably smell you, so you need to hide.” You glanced at the sun floating in through your blinds. “Can you stay quiet up here?”

He smirked, which sent your heart for a ride. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” he assured with a smile that promised mischief.

“Cool, because when I get back, you and I are having a serious conversation about this whole memory thing,” you tossed the blanket from last night into your hamper, dirt and dry leaves still sticking to it from your run in the woods. “Maybe you can help me look through the books and find that spell you think you performed on your Theo. Figure out if I’m her, or just remember things she knew.”

“Anything you wish, Sweetling,” you didn’t need to turn around to know he was grinning, joyful at a chance to explore this, so you just rolled your eyes affectionately, pulling on a jacket to hide the fact you were wearing the same exact clothes as last night.

Closing the door behind you, you made your way downstairs. As you walked through the living room, three very recognizable voices made their way to your ears. Two of your three guests were expected from what Bucky told you. One of them made your blood start to boil, anxiety and nerves shooting through you. You took a deep breath before rounding the corner to the kitchen, silently praying that Bucky wouldn’t hear your heart rate spike and come down here.

Pepper spotted you first, already having brewed coffee and smiling at you. “Good morning, y/n.”

Smiling back at her, you took the mug of coffee from her gratefully. “Been a few weeks since you visited, Pep. I was wondering if you forgot about me.” You teased before turning to your other guest. “Keeping her busy, I presume?” You smiled at Tony.

The two must have just come back from their Honeymoon, something you knew Pepper was looking forward to. The Coven wasn’t quite the same without your mother hen witch sister. Older than you, she took over as your mother figure rather quickly after finding you. She was the reason your powers were under control most of the time, having taught you everything she knew.

You then turned to your third visitor, “Council Member Pierce, what brings you to my little nitch of the woods?” You gave a polite smile, noticing Tony’s apologetic smile behind the Council member.

“Simply passing through during our investigation of what happened to the Mountain Coven,” he provided. God, you always hated how calculating he sounded, even with simple sentences. Alexander Pierce, one of your least favorite Council Members and the current Head of the Council, and they all inadvertently hated you.

“We heard what happened and wanted to check in on you when we found Council Member Pierce here already on his way,” Pepper, ever the diplomat, supplied you with the missing gap. He probably forced his way into your home or forced Pepper to open the door knowing him. Manipulative and slimy seemed to be common Council member personality traits.

Rubbing the inside of your wrist, you smiled warmly, plastering the fake grin on your features. “Well make yourself at home before continuing on in your journey.”

“Oh, he was just leaving,” Tony snarled lowly. Pepper placed a hand on his shoulder, and he visibly relaxed, yet you could practically see the fumes coming off of him.

Pierce simply stood, “Keep a tighter leash on your dog Ms. Potts,-“

“Potts-Stark,” Tony snarled, eyes narrowing, Pierce ignored him as he continued.

“I will be seeing more of you during the investigation, don’t disappoint Ms. L/n.”

You gave him a fake smile once more, “Have a great day,” he promptly left, and you shut the door none-to-gently behind him.

Sitting back in the kitchen you took a sip of your coffee, letting the scorching liquid boil your insides. You could feel both Starks’ gaze burning into your head as you sighed. “I know you smelled him the second you walked through the door Tony, and thank you for not tell Pierce. Now, tell me what you’re thinking,” you locked eyes onto the werewolf.

“That you’re insane, or that you’re going to get yourself killed, where should I start?” He deadpanned.

You sighed softly, taking another sip of your coffee. “Bucky, you can come down here,” you called softly, knowing he could hear you from your room.

A small gust of wind notified you of his added presence. He placed a hand on your hip possessively, fangs bared as he growled. “Mutt,” he scowled.

“Leech,” Tony responded in kind, baring his own fangs. Pepper shot you a look, one you shrugged off. Both men were confrontational, but you knew Tony since you were younger, and he wouldn’t just hurt another nocturnal without a reason. And Bucky, despite technically barely knowing him, well, he was just a goofball at heart. And you knew he would trust you.

Placing a hand on his shoulder seemed effective, the growling buzzing off softly. Inky black eyes looking at you for an explanation. “Bucky, this is one of my Coven Sisters, Pepper, and her husband, Tony. You two better play nice,” you threatened giving them both a look.

Tony scowled at you, “You dragged a leech into your home and you want me to play nice?!” he fumed. You knew Tony was just trying to protect you but sometimes he did go a bit overboard.

“Yes, wolfie. I have some explaining-“

“Yeah, no shit!” He cried out.

Sighing softly, you headed out towards the library without another word, all three on your heels. You quickly gathered the books you needed, dropping the new additions besides the books on witch and Soul Bound Lore already sitting on your desk. Bucky took an interest in one, in particular, an old relic Wanda had found for you. He gulped faintly, running his fingers through the yellowed pages before looking up at you. Tony and Pepper watched curiously, both noting how the two nocturnals in front of them seemed to gravitate towards each other like magnets.

Grabbing the book, you most frequented about Soul Bound, you slid it towards the couple, taking a deep breath. “Bucky and I are Soul Bound,” you explained in a meek voice.

Both Starks responded at the same time.

“You’re name’s Bucky?!”

“You’re Soul Bound to a vampire?!”

Taking a chance, you gently intertwined your hand in Bucky’s, who seemed quite shocked you would do that. You were positive that if he could, he would be blushing, staring at your hand. Tightening your grip on him you nodded, “Yeah…”

Tony burst into a fit of giggles, making Pepper roll her eyes. “I’m sorry, what kind of old fashion name from a vampire is Bucky,” he continued to laugh.

“Short for Buchanan. My baby sister, Becca, came up with it,” he babbled, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat.

“What happened to her?” Your mouth moved before your brain told it to shut up and not interrogate the man with the missing memories.

He squinted faintly at your interlocked hands, thinking for a moment before replying, “Died of yellow fever when we were young.”

“Wow, we’ve known him for ten minutes and we’re already learning the tragic backstory. Can you believe that, Pep?” Tony interrupted.

Swallowing back the new wave of memories the words ‘yellow fever’ brought into your head, you opened the book in front of you. “I need your help, Pepper. Is there a way to bring someone back to life? You’re the only witch I know who even read the necromancy chapter in school and took it seriously.”

“I mean probably, in theory, that’s the whole point of necromancy, bringing life to the dead and dying.” She shrugged, turning the book towards her. She browsed a few pages, while you ignored Tony’s looks towards your vampire. Wait. When did he become your vampire? “This might be it,” Pepper mumbled, turning the page towards you. Both you and Bucky started skimming through the words. “There’s a difference between bringing back from the brink of death and actual death, but this is the main difference.”

Bucky squeezed your hand faintly, “I did the spell wrong,” his shoulders were hunched, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. Preoccupied with his reaction, you didn’t notice the rest of your Coven filing through the library doors. They visibly froze at seeing Bucky, Carol’s eyes zeroing in on your intertwined hands.

“Did what spell wrong?” Natasha called, causing you to jump with a small shriek.

“Shit! Nat, don’t scare me like that,” you glared at her. She gave you a self-satisfied smirk in response as you spoke. “Necromancy. Specifically, a spell to bring someone back. Well… we don’t think this is the first life we’ve been tied together.” That was the first time you said it out loud, accepted it. It was terrifying. Liberating.

“First life?” Maria was the one to speak up, sliding into a nearby chair, Sasha happily jumping into her lap. The tabby purred as she rubbed behind her ears as you tried to think about how you could explain this big mess.

Thankfully, Bucky spoke. “I was born in the 1600s, my wife and I moved to a newer colony, and they killed her, Theo, for being a witch. She was my Soul Bound. I… I tried to save her, but I think I used the wrong spell. I think I used a rebirth spell instead of a bringing back from the brink of death spell.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed in on him, “You were a witch too? Convenient if you ask me. Besides, how do we know your ‘Theo’ is y/n?” All the Coven’s (and one amused werewolf’s) eyes were bearing into him.

He held up the hand he was laced into, “This birthmark, Theo had one in the exact spot. Well, her’s was a scar, from when she pricked herself on needles.” He put your hand back down before continuing. “Mint leaves like her, exact same scent,” his vision started to double, and he took a shaky breath, “Same powers, same eyes when she uses said powers, same smile, same kindness towards any creature,” he groaned softly, using his free hand to clutch his temples. “Fuck, not now,” he whimpered.

You helped him take a seat, ignoring your Coven to make sure he was comfortable. “Are you okay? It’s a memory isn’t it?” He nodded weakly, looking up at you, which made you realize your hands had migrated into cupping his cheeks. “I’m right here, Bucky, I’ve got you,” you murmured, moving up to gently rub his temples as he whined. Vulnerable and terrified, soul in your hands, the Coven watched as you guarded over your defenseless vampire.

-

Laughter like honey. Smiles like sugar. Candied hearts, crystallized tears of joy. His Theo. Always his. He was a liar. She was gone. And it was his fault.

He kept running, too slow for the woman – no, creature – beside him, but he no longer cared. Running for far too long. Kill him. He deserved it. He was a monster. He lied. He broke his promise.

Somewhere along the way, a man started to run with him as well. To blind by his own tragedy, he truly didn’t even notice the two vampire companions having a fling. Peggy. She had dragged him away from her death. Now, Steve, was it?, was to lovesick with the older vampire to notice she was stringing him along. She never did like the loneliness of eternity.

Mud, moss, gross green stuff. Bucky no longer cared. That was until the caught up with him. Finally, finish this. Kneeling in the cold mud, freezing rain biting into his skin. A gun pressed to the back of his head to keep him still, but he didn’t care. He begged for it to finally be over.

It was truly ironic, he though at least, that the very judge that passed the sentence that murdered his love, would put the bullet in his head and kill him. A loud shot, and a consuming, blinding pain encompassing his head and body. He couldn’t cry out as he fell onto the mud. Limp, hoping for his death to be just a little quicker, his murderer turned his body over. Through caked vision, he finally understood why he was always so wary of witches.

Judge Armin Zola stood above him, grinning murderously down at him. “Such a shame, Barnes. We could have been great, but you and your Bound were too powerful to control. Don’t take it too personal, after all, we don’t like any Natural Born, not just you.” Tormented, and alone, on his dying breath, Bucky could only think of how he couldn’t wait to see Theo again. And that’s when the burning pain started to shoot through his veins.

-

When Bucky came to, his head was resting on her lap. He practically purred, despite it sounding like a whine, as her hands ran through his hair. Home. Safe. His eyes shot open, scanning the room as he realized they weren’t alone.

“Calm down Count Chocula, y/n explained the memory thing while you were out, and her own issues,” Tony sneered, not looking up from the book he was perusing through.

He shook his head, trying to speak but his brain decided to disconnect with his mouth. “Let me help,” Wanda offered, already sitting beside the pair. “I read minds if you would like, save your strength.”

He looked up towards Theo – no, she’s Y/n now – who nodded, still running her hands through his hair. “You can trust her, I trust her with my life.”

That’s all he really needed. Anyone worthy of her affection earned his own a moment later. She’s all he needs to trust in, his new own personal religion. He nodded towards the red witch, who placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt like he was swimming in reds and burgundies. Wanda gasped softly, lifting her hand away quickly as if his touch burned her. “No way,” she muttered, rushing for a book. She hastily opened it, flipping through pages before freezing on a very specific section. “Look familiar?” She turned it for him to see. The crude drawing looked like his Theo, a noose around her neck, the Judge he saw standing beside her.

“That… that looks like me?” You murmured softly, hands stilling in Bucky’s hair.

The man in question sat up, groggy as the memories started to flash through his eyes, the blurry picture slowly coming into focus. He blinked a few times before pointing towards the Judge. “Him. He killed me ten years after killing you.”

Carol looked a bit skeptically towards them, “Yeah but why would some witch kill you two? Got him mad?”

He tilted his head towards the pages, skimming his finger along with the words. “He wasn’t just some witch.” He closed his eyes, straining to hold onto his racing thoughts before his eyes flashed gold then red again. “He was the Head of the Witch Council.” He turned towards a stunned you. “The Council killed us because we were gaining too much power,” he reached forward across the sofa, taking your hands in his.

“Ten years… you said you died in Queen Anne’s War, and I died ten years before that. My dreams, it's chilly, like October.” Your hands were shaking as your thoughts started to pull the information together, but Bucky’s cool and soft hands were acting as an anchor to this moment.

“Eighteen. They hung eighteen girls that October.” He was starting to connect it together as well.

“Holy shit, I died in the Salem Witch Trials,” your voice rang out throughout the room. Bucky squeezed your hands gently, and you let him act as your tether to the mortal whelm. “We were killed by the very Council that had sworn to protect all witches, and you were saved by the vampires we were told by them to fear.”

“Well, this is just getting deeper and deeper. Before you know it, you’ll be telling me the Coven to the North died because they found out the Council has been killing Naturals.” Tony quipped from the side of the room.

The room froze, taking in the statement. “Well, it would explain a lot,” you murmured. “They were getting powerful, and dominant witches who don’t need as much energy to have magic aren’t easy to control.” That was the last connecting dot. The darkness in the distance wasn’t just some mythical monster. It was the very same man that stood in your living room and drank your tea just an hour ago.

-

Tags:

Permanent Tags:

@minetticatinwonderland  / @lumar014 / @maniacproffesor / @gollyderek / @nerdy-bookworm-1998 / @avengerstones / @momc95 / @loving-life-my-way / @thelibraryoffanfiction / @marvelmaree

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  / @darkness-doughter / @novaddictx / @thedancingnerdmermaid / @mood-pancakes / @gracethegeek9902 / @ravennightingaleandavatempus / @sunkissedbarnes / @annavega333

Blood Bound Tags:

@itz-kira​ / @rinthehufflepuff​ / @evilzinblr​ / @starkrobb​ / @paranoiadestroyah​ / @misplacedorphan / @ladysergeantbarnes​ / @gobemywonderwall​ / @yallneedtrek​

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

[fatedancer]

LFRP - Essandiel Gorranna (WIP)

♥ BASICS –––– NAME: Essan’diel Gorranna NICKNAME: Essa AGE: 87 RACE: Viera GENDER: Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual MARITAL STATUS: Single SERVER: Mateus

♥ PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––––

HAIR: Soft brown with black/dark highlights EYES: Pale/rose, crystal/pink HEIGHT: 5’8” BUILD: Healthy curve, fit, voluptuous DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Serpent tattoo around the right ankle, small tattoo on the back of her neck (a tree branded with a moon and star - size of a thumb print). COMMON ACCESSORIES: Clothes, accessories and a ton of pretty things…Seriously though, she always has a blade of some kind on her person, and if she can manage an aether pendant as well as other various gems and spell components disguised as jewelry.

♥ PERSONAL –––– PROFESSION: Witch for hire. (Formerly- Warden, healer, scholar, wanderer, dancer) HOBBIES: Learning everything she can about Aether and her connection to it, exploring, dancing, alchemy. LANGUAGES: “Common”, Ancient Viera (runes & Sigils), several other ‘magical’ languages. RESIDENCE: Small apartment in the Mist (Soon), A small apartment where she keeps all of her things, though as of late she is rarely been there, due to her current employer requiring her at their side. BIRTHPLACE: Eruyt FEARS: Not living up to her destiny/fate that was written in the skies at her birth, that she will never redeem herself for her sacrifice, loss of her freedom, insane cultists, witch hunters. PERSONALITY: Essa begins most interactions in a professional or quiet way as she discovers the lay of the land between her and her company, however, once the ice is broken, she is flirty, playful and quite talkative. Physically, she is not shy, but to see past that physical mask takes work.

♥ RELATIONSHIPS –––- SPOUSE: None CHILDREN: None PARENTS: Arosias (Father - Unknown), Ryssa (Mother - Living) SIBLINGS: None. OTHER RELATIVES: No idea. PETS: None.

♥ SEXUALITY –––-

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bi-sexual  PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE:  Submissive | Dominant | Switch  |  Unsure PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE:  Submissive  |  Dominant  |  Switch |  Sex repulsed LIBIDO: High once Essa feels that she is free to be herself and comfortable. There has to be a level of trust there for her to drop the mask of professionalism. It is rare to get past this stage and into an actual relationship but if you can get to the center of an Essa-bun ~ It is definitely worth the ride. TURN ON’S: Honesty (Blunt or not), confidence, playful nature, intelligence, loyalty, ROMANCE, physical strength and beauty, sexy smile, nice ass, beautiful eyes, strong arms, great conversation, adventurous personality… All the usuals, looks will definitely get you in the door, but it may not keep you past the auditions! TURN OFF’S: Indifference, lack of passion and romance, cheaters, selfish lovers (give and receive!), obsessive and possessive stalker-like behavior, negativity.  LOVE LANGUAGE: Touches. Essa shows how she feels. The words come only after. Love is a word that still means something to her. It is not to be tossed around because someone has a crush or is blinded by lust. Love is earned. But touches and being close, that is how she communicates her feelings to her partner. It is only alone that simple touches turn into something more intense. She is always a Lady in public. Only in private does that change. 

♥ TRAITS –––– Bold 

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganized / organised / in between

close minded / open-minded / in between

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unempathetic / in between

optimistic/ pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / uncultured / in-between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

♥ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION –––-

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess ** Essa does not smoke tobacco. She has a personal herbal mixture that she enjoys from time to time.

♥ POSSIBLE HOOKS –––-

WITCH FOR HIRE: Be it for a simple healing, or a potion to help get pregnant! Essandiel is willing to help for the right price. Currently she is employed by a noble house in Ul’dah who is having trouble producing heirs. Once that work is over, she will be looking for more work, even if that means moving to another city to ply her wares. 

SEARCH FOR KNOWLEDGE: Going on an adventure to far-away places to unearth knowledge from the past? Need a healer or a translator? Need a Bun to join you and fangirl over each discovery? Essandiel is your girl! 

AETHER WITCH: 87 years of striving to control and learn about her powers has given her the ability to both heal and hurt with the power of aether alone. She has learned much and though she wants to learn more, she is willing to teach as well as use her magicks, and get paid for her services. 

♥ WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR ––––

Honestly, a good story! I know that sounds silly, but I am up for really anything as long as the story is good. Toss me a DM or message me through Tumblr, let’s see what we can come up with! I RP in both game and Discord - so hit me up!

A new FC is possible, but If such a thing is to happen, it would have to happen though IC connections as I am in my current guild OOC. 

As for the NSFW RPS. Only if a story calls for it and both if both the character and the player behind the screen are age-appropriate. I love long-smoldering rps that build on events and emotions. Give the wandering witch a reason to stay! 

Finally, friends, enemies, rivals, and colleagues are ALL WELCOME! I just have a few rules, and they are the following. If there is a storyline/plot you want to try? Let’s talk!  

No enslavement, death, disfigurement, god-modding, abuse, rape etc.

♥ YOU CAN CONTACT ME VIA —–

Tumblr DM @fatedancer

Discord - Ask me! *♥*

In-game on Mateus -  Essandiel Gorranna

@mooglemeet @crystalxivrp @ffxiv-crystal-rp

[ahagia-sophia]

Thesis Statement: Manhood is poorly defined and actively attacked in Western society and this has caused me problems. Selfish I know, but this is my blog. So.

I have a lot of problems with the US. There are the political ones. The not so political ones. And the personal ones. When I first hit adulthood and realized that adults don’t exist I held out the secret hope that somewhere adults existed. When I saw that our political system was not run by these mythical adults I became very angry. And when I went overseas I, like some sort of idiot, thought that I had at last found the place that the adults were hiding. I found a place where people had their roles. Knew how to act. Knew how to behave. But I was a tourist. I saw people doing their jobs and just sort of assumed that everyone was like that. While I was having the epiphany that human beings are, in fact, exactly the same no matter where or when you go, this part of the revelation passed me by. And it took me three years of self reflection to figure that out. But back to the topic. Problems. This might be because of my rather, uh, unique upbringing. But I never really figured out how to be a man. Like I know some stuff. Stand up for people, don’t hit girls, have sex. That’s the basics. But I also saw a lot of other men who grew up and ‘knew’ how to be men. I was raised almost exclusively by women. My father figure was either dead or isolated from the rest of us. So it was me, my mother, my sisters, my grandmother, and my cousins. And after I was transplanted to the south it was just my mother and my sisters. My mom knew how to raise girls. And she married my step father, and stayed with him, almost exclusively for my benefit. Assuming that a man was needed to raise a boy. And because that man was around she was uh. Absent. From my raising. I’m still a little mad that my sisters got ancestral rings on their 18th birthdays and I just got a pat on the back (I’ve got a lot of angst when it comes to rings). But that’s not what I’m here to complain about. Because I was sort of left to raise myself, I turned to any manly source I could find. Those were the military and paramilitary groups. I was small and pale (still am, really) and kind of migrated to bottom bitch status. So I learned that being a man, for me, was being quiet, being studious, and being as unobtrusive as I can. Funnily enough my JROTC program was run almost exclusively by women. The only men really present were 1SG and Colonel. Colonel was a tired old Creole man who had lived a very long life. 1SG was a raging misogynist surrounded by nothing but strong women and scrawny boys. The other organization I found myself is was the 5th Louisiana Reenacting Company. A group of Totally Not Racist See We Have A Black Guy (One Of The Good Ones, A Credit To His Race) Civil War Reenactors It’s kind of surprising that I’m not some frothing trumper, really. From them I learned Machismo and Duty. A man has his Duty and he does his Duty in a manly fashion. I also probably hated women. I was definitely chock full of hormones and mad that they had it so easy sexually (yeah I know better now). I was certainly jealous of my sisters for being mothered.  And I definitely hated women who attacked the fundamentals of Manhood. Because it was all I really had, beyond my own special interests.

Going into college all I really knew about my role in society was that I was to Fulfill My Duty and Have Sex. I was bitter about that. I was a virgin. And because I had sort of been raised in a military mindset I had it in my mind that my Duty was to Suffer and Die. (On a related note I fucking despise American Protestantism.) Because of that I was very upset when all my new female friends kept saying that men were pigs who have it easy. I know why they said that now, and to an extent I agree. But at the time I couldn’t understand how they could be so blind. In my mind they had it easy. I had to register for the fucking draft and get ready for a career of suffering and they got to do whatever they wanted while being cared for by those of us who were busy Suffering. Again, don’t yell at me, I’m just trying to explain some shit here.

So college wasn’t really helpful for determining manhood. I was on my own for the first time and all I was learning was all the things ‘men’ were. Men were creeps who raped their children. Men were creeps who followed girls around on dark nights. Men were assholes who tried to control every aspect of a woman’s life. Men were abusive. Men were stupid. Men were, by and large, Bad. It’s funny that you can say that in front of someone and then immediately turn around and say ‘Oh no, you’re one of the good ones.’ And not see the obvious connections. But I’m not here to discuss prejudice. I’m here, really, to discuss the nebulous nature of manhood in American society.

I still didn’t really know what a man was. Which meant (in my mind at the time) I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to be doing with my life. I have since learned that no one knows. But then (and now) I was keenly interested on what a man was supposed to be. I took a course on sexual violence and relationships and we got to a thing called the ‘Be A Man Box’ where we outlined the traits of manhood. I was very interested in this box. Perhaps I would get some goddamn answers. Did I mention the class was entirely composed of women? That’s important. They took this as a time to outline everything about men that they hated and provide a few of the staples like ‘provider’ for diversity or something. The box was not helpful. All I really knew was what a man shouldn’t be. Which is good, yes. But it wasn’t giving me the answers I so desperately sought. There were other men on campus, obviously. But beyond my one conservative friend all of my male friends were some flavor of gay. And seemed more interested in figuring out their sexuality and enjoying their newfound freedom than figuring out what the hell masculinity is.

Enter that ‘Muslim’ in my bio. We’ve entered my third year of college. I’m devastated by a breakup, I’m binge drinking, I’m flirting with suicide, I’m completely rudderless. And my friend’s girlfriend was trying to fuck me. A recurring theme in my life, that. A lot of bad shit was going on concurrently. My only real male role models were my professors. One of whom was Muslim, the other tired and Mormon, and the third was/is slowly dying while his wife fucked anything that moved. I was asking myself a lot of questions. Questions like, ‘Is it okay to fuck my friends girlfriend?’ ‘Did my ex break up with me because I couldn’t meet her expectations?’ ‘How have I even gotten this far?’ ‘What will I do next?’ ‘What am I supposed to be doing?’ My parents were also on the edge of a divorce and I was balancing an overfull course load, work, and being drunk/finding booze.

It was a sort of catalyst. I remembering drunkenly kneeling in my bedroom. Naked. Begging anyone who was listening for answers. And that answer was Islam. Islam had the ultimate set of honored male figures. The local Masjid was populated by academics and civil rights activists. Old black men who had clawed their way up from literal slavery to being pillars of their community. There’s no wisdom like that given by an old black man. I doubt I will ever be dissuaded from that belief. Islam had exact answers to all my questions. God. Community. Aid. Prayer. It had role models. It had answers. You’ve probably noticed that I’m still putting everything in past tense. I still consider myself a Muslim, but I’m definitely not a good one. The last time a knelt in prayer was Ramadan. But at the time religion did what I needed it to. I got sober. I got focused. I got my shit together.

It took me 21 years to find anything even resembling a guide to manhood. And it came from what many would describe as Un-American. Absolutely nothing that was presented to me before gave me a satisfactory answer. No American institution. No ‘American’ religion. No facet of American culture gave me an answer. Clearly other men have gotten answers. And, really, they got them from the same place I got mine. Old timers. People who remember, or have learned, how to be Men. And a lot of those old timers are racist old fucks who are actively poisoning young men who are desperate for answers to questions they don’t even know they’re asking. Maybe somewhere. In a country with an old faith and an old population. A place where you are confronted with civilization thousands of years old every day. Maybe there they know how to be men. Maybe that’s the place where the answers lie. Because I know for certain where they don’t lie. Sadly there aren’t any answers here. For any man or any stripe who’s trying to figure it out, I don’t think I can help you. One day I will. That’s my goal in life. To figure out what real manhood is and spread the word far and wide. But. sadly, I don’t have the answers yet.

[clownistyping]

The Neverending Story, chapter 8

I wasn't gonna post today bc I'm in st Augustine but im free for now. But im posting anyways. Also reader meets a fuckin god

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Cover by @laneygthememequeen

"Goodnight, Beej." You yawned as you stood from the couch, Beetlejuice whined and latched to your waist.

"Oh come on we're just gettin to the good part!" He was forcing you to watch the human centipede, while you have a wide selection of movies the human centipede wasn't your favorite.. or even in your top 100. 

You walked, dragging him along with you. He whined as you walked upstairs, his whines started to vibrate and you laughed. 

Reaching your bedroom door you looked down at the plump demon who pouted and pulled puppy dog eyes on you. 

"Atweast wet me sweep with chu." You cringed and pushed his face away. 

"Let me sleep, Beej." You said as he slid off of you, whining in agony from the betrayal. 

Entering your room you stared at him through the door crack, he stared back with big eyes. 

"Goodnight." You said and shut the door. You heard him groan and slam himself against the door. 

Changing into your pajamas, you brushed your teeth. Looking at your wall you smiled when you saw the newly hung polaroids of you and the demon. 

The room was dark as you sat in the middle of your bed, it's quiet. Been a while since it's been this quiet, looking at your door you saw the light under it flash and you smiled knowing Beetlejuice is still awake and doing whatever the fuck he does when you're asleep. 

Laying down you slowly let the darkness and silence envelope you in sleep. 

"(Y/N)? Is that you, dear?" A feminine voice called out and you slowly opened your eyes only to be blinded by the brightest light you've ever seen. 

"Oh sorry, here." You felt a hand caress your eyes and you opened them, the light only a smidge dimmer but its bearable. Squinting up you looked at the blinding figure that spoke. 

"Been a while hasn't it?" Her voice echoed all around you as you studied her appearance. She was insanely tall, towering over you. You couldn't tell where her body ended seeing as her long sparkling hair floating down and around you, almost like a wall of light. 

Her face was unrecognizable, but one thing you did see was the void of light that was her slim eyes. 

But you've only seen a sliver of the void when she opened her eye for a second, she seems content with them closed. 

Stepping forward you asked. 

"Who are you?" 

"Me?" The woman's voice echoed with a laugh. 

"I am the light." She said and suddenly you were being lifted by her. Brought closer to her face you sat on your knees. 

"I am your creator." 

A rumble from behind her shook you and you almost fell from her palm. 

"Co-creator, darling." Your eyes were wide when you peeked behind the woman only to see a just as large armoured figure, walking towards the both of you. 

"Stay back!" You yelled, for some reason you felt the need to protect this woman. Its unnecessary because of her stature. The woman pulled her closer, you grabbed her hair. It was so soft and warm, like a blanket you would instantly fall asleep in. 

"They turned out to be quite the fighter." The armoured masculine figure chuckled as he sat next to the woman. She nodded, 

"That's why they're my favorite." She hummed and you blushed. 

"Picking favorites now aren't we?" The armored man leaned closer to inspect you and you hid deeper into the forest of hair. 

"Come on now, no need to fear me." 

"Dear (Y/N), this is the Dark." You saw the woman's soft hand hold the man's metal one. With his other hand, he lifted his helmet off to reveal his blackened face that was only light by his shining eyes. 

"Nice to meet you again, (Y/N)." He said and suddenly you felt like a shy toddler hiding behind their mother in fear of a stranger. Scrunching your brows you came out from the hair and started. 

"Who are you two? Why are you saying you're my creators?" Looking up at the two as they looked at each other. 

"We made you," The woman started. 

"And the others as well." The man finished. 

"Even the one that tried to kill me?" You asked and the man sighed. 

"Yes, even him." He let the woman's hand go and from out of her palm came a figure of black smoke. 

"I made the biological parts of the immortals." You quirked a brow in confusion. 

"The parts in you that keep you alive for so long." He poked your chest and you fell down on the woman's palm. 

"And I made your emotional traits. From your feelings to your needs and wants." 

You pursued your lips, you expected differently. 

"I..I expected there to be just good and evil." 

"Oh we don't control that." The woman said, 

"That's mankind's doing. We just make immortals, humans that outlive others to truly be examples of humans full evolution." 

"Then who made humans?" You asked, now standing with the woman's help. 

"We can't say.." she mumbled and the man held her face. 

"We're not so sure ourselves, since we don't really involve ourselves with humans the ones that make and kill them." He said and faced you. 

"Alright. We've said enough." 

"True. Haven't had an immortal in here for this long for centuries." The woman chuckled and you frowned. 

"Will I see either of you again?" 

"Possibly, but you came here on your on free will." 

You woke up. 

"Beetlejuice!" You called out and heard a snicker from behind the door, repeating his name twice he slammed the door open with a smile. 

"Can you sleep with me tonight?" 

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