#cannot believe i missed an entire essay and no one thought that was weird???

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

can't believe i actually have to ask for help... is is not enough to act increasingly out of character until someone of benefit notices?...

[litafficionado]

Four Questions with Garielle Lutz:

I’m extremely beholden to Garielle who took the time to respond to my silly, garbled, childish, intrusive questions. You can purchase her latest book Worsted here and here, among many other sites.  --------- Q.  You've attributed the resuscitation of your literary career in quite considerable measure to your teacher and editor Gordon Lish. It seems like you guys are particularly close, even as you seem to have largely confined yourself to Pittsburgh(mostly driven by your erstwhile teaching career but also by your liking the city over time). How does it feel to hear someone like Gordon speak so highly of you, “I think there’s more truth in one sentence of my student [Lutz] than in all of [Philip] Roth. Lutz gives [herself] away. “The speaking subject gives herself away,” says Julia Kristeva. I thoroughly believe that. What you see in Lutz, [her] lavish gift, is [her] refusal to relax [her] determination to uncover and uncover. It is, by my lights, quite wonderful, quite terrific.[…]Lutz is entirely the real thing?” Does one feel vindicated? How do you navigate the waters of self-effacement and self-indulgence as a writer and as a person? A.  I haven’t had a literary career before or after studying with Gordon Lish.  I don’t think one finds one’s way to him in hopes of launching a career.  Anyone with vulgar ambition along those lines would have been shown the door pretty quick.  I would never presume to be close to Gordon or to feel that I am part of his life other than in my role as a student. He dwells in another realm entirely. I attended his classes and tried to grasp, to the best of my abilities, the things he was saying about how to get from one word to the next.  He also talked about how to free a word from the constricting range of its permissible behaviors, how to drain it of every sepsis of received meaning, until there is nothing left of the word but the skeleton of its former self, just the lank, gawky letters sticking out this way and that, and then how to fill the thing up again, to the point of overspilling, but this time with something that would never have been allowed to belong in there before, and then see whether the word, now close to bursting, can hold up and maybe have a new kind of say.  I’m always surprised and relieved whenever Gordon says anything approving about anything I write.  I think that for a lot of his students, his opinion is the only one that counts.  

Q.  You've said, "A typical day goes like this: noon, afternoon, evening, night, additional night, even more night, furtherest night, then bedtime, though I don’t have a bed or furniture of any kind.” Have you always been a lychnobite, sensing the overwhelming superabundance of life after the sunset or is it a relatively recent development facilitated by your retirement from teaching? Do you consider yourself in any way to be a minimalist? Does your room bear any resemblance with a sparsely lit opium den where all exchanges happen at the floor level?

A.  I think the pandemic has had a lot to do with it.  Lately I’ve been up until five, sometimes six.  But I’ve always found mornings the harshest and ugliest part of the day (maybe it’s just because of the place where I live, but I never open the blinds anyway).  There can be something awfully scolding about a sunrise the older you get  Evening seems to extend every form of leniency, and in the dead of night, expectations go way down, which is where they maybe ought to stay.  I do spend all of my time on the floor, but my apartment doesn’t bear any resemblance to an opium den.  It’s more like a crawlspace or the back of a  dollar-store stockroom.    

Q. Even with your reputation of being a page-hugger than a typical page-turner, how do you decide which books to read apart from your line of work? Do you try to keep it largely in the familiar territory, like exploring the oeuvre of a time-tested writer? How does one unshackle oneself from this constant niggling that one ought to read so many books? Here's Ben Marcus: “When I was in graduate school, there was this sort of cautionary adage going around by the poet Francis Ponge that we can only write what we’ve already read and one way to hear that is you’re just sort of doomed to kind of regurgitate everything you’ve read and so if you’re just reading all the popular books, the books everyone else is reading, in some sense you’re maybe unwittingly confining yourself to a particular literary practice that’s gonna look pretty familiar. I remember at the time thinking, okay well if that’s true, if I’m just fated to that, then I’m gonna read things that no one else is reading. I loved to just go to the library and pretty randomly grab books, because I think for a little while, and I’m kinda glad this passed, but I really just had this feeling that a writer just consumes language and just sort of spits it out. So it didn’t matter. Like it didn’t have to be a great novel for it to be worth-reading. And I still read very little fiction in the end compared to non-fiction, essays, works of philosophy, science. And the other sort of dirty secret is: I don’t finish a lot of books. I just don’t care enough. I only finish a book if I have to or if I really want to. And, often, I’ll stop reading a book three pages from the end. I think that as writers, we probably feel a lot of pressure about what kind of a reader to be, what kind of a writer to be in, and we feel this shame, like “I haven’t read DH Lawrence, I’m such an asshole.” You begin to feel like you’ve these deficiencies and you gotta make them up and you never will and a lot of it is just kinda tyrannical. Of course, obviously, we must be naturally motivated to read and read and read and read but I guess I just started to notice that…I got a lot of my ideas by just reading…e.g. a gardening book…like the weird way a sentence was structured.” Then there's Moyra Davey: “Woolf famously said of reading: “The only advice … is to take no advice, … follow your instincts, … use your reason.” A similar thought was voiced by her elder contemporary Oscar Wilde, who did not believe in recommending books, only in de-recommending them. Later, Jorge Luis Borges echoed the same sentiment by discouraging “systematic bibliographies” in favor of “adulterous” reading. More recently, Gregg Bordowitz has promoted “promiscuous” reading in which you impulsively allow an “imposter” book to overrule any reading trajectory you might have set for yourself, simply because, for instance, a friend tells you in conversation that he is reading it and is excited by it. This evokes for me that most potent kind of reading — reading as flirtation with or eavesdropping on someone you love or desire, someone who figures in your fantasy life.”“What to read?” is a recurring dilemma in my life. The question always conjures up an image: a woman at home, half-dressed, moving restlessly from room to room, picking up a book, reading a page or two and no sooner feeling her mind drift, telling herself, “You should be reading something else, you should be doing something else.” The image also has a mise-en-scène: overstuffed, disorderly shelves of dusty and yellowing books, many of them unread; books in piles around the bed or faced down on a table; work prints of photographs, also with a faint covering of dust, taped to the walls of the studio; a pile of bills; a sink full of dishes. She is trying to concentrate on the page in front of her but a distracting blip in her head travels from one desultory scene to the next, each one competing for her attention. It is not just a question of which book will absorb her, for there are plenty that will do that, but rather, which book, in a nearly cosmic sense, will choose her, redeem her. Often what is at stake, should she want to spell it out, is the idea that something is missing, as in: what is the crucial bit of urgently needed knowledge that will save her, at least for this day? She has the idea that if she can simply plug into the right book then all will be calm, still, and right with the world. […] Must reading be tied to productivity to be truly satisfying […] Or is it the opposite, that it can only really gratify if it is a total escape? What is it that gives us a sense of sustenance and completion? Are we on some level always striving to attain that blissful state of un-agendaed reading remembered from childhood? What does it mean to spend a good part of one’s life absorbed in books? Given that our time is limited, the problem of reading becomes one of exclusion. Why pick one book over the hundreds, perhaps thousands on our bookshelves, the further millions in libraries and stores? For in settling on any book we are implicitly saying no to countless others. This conflict is aptly conjured up by essayist Lynne Sharon Schwartz as she reflects on “the many books (the many acts) I cannot in all decency leave unread (undone) — or can I?”” What way out do you suggest? Do you deem it worthwhile to eschew any shred of obligation and be propelled in any direction naturally? Like you said you found grammar books and lexicons more engaging and enjoyable than the novels.

A.  I seem to remember that in some magazine or another, James Wolcott once said “Read at whim.”  That has always sounded like the best advice.  And I assume it means to feel free to ditch any book that disappoints.  Like Ben Marcus, I’ve had experiences of abandoning a book just a few pages from the end, but I often don’t make it that far in most things anymore.  I came from a long line of nonreaders, so I’ve never felt any guilt about passing up books or writers that so many people seem to talk about a lot, and I don’t expect other people to like what I like. Some books I’ll start about halfway in and then see whether I might want to work my way back to the beginning.  Others I’ll start at the very end and inch my way toward the front, one sentence at a time, and see how far I can go that way.  I seem to remember that in The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes recommends “cruising” a text, and maybe something like that is what I’m doing at least some of the time, if I understand what he means.  And every now and then I’ll read  a book straightforwardly for an hour and afterward wonder whether the time might have been better spent staring off into space. Too many books these days seem ungiving.  It’s the ungivingness that disappoints the most.  A lot of contemporary fiction has the gleam and sparkle of a trend feature in a glossy magazine, and I can appreciate the craft and the savvy that go into something like that, but I am drawn more toward stories and books that demand being read slowly and closely, pulse by pulse, the kind of fiction where everything--what little might be left of an entire blighted life--can pivot on the peal of a single syllable. Q.  I'd like to ask you so many questions. But let this be the last one for matters of convenience. Also, in a capitalistic world, one's enshrouded with guilt for taking one's time without being remunerative in any way. Among the books and films that you recently encountered, which ones do you think deserve rereads/rewatches? A.  I used to feel like the woman you’ve described so movingly above, someone who questions her choice of books almost to the brink of despair.  At my age, though, I no longer have a program for reading, a syllabus or a checklist, and I’m okay with knowing there’s a lot I’ll never get around to.  I’m happy being a rereader of a few inexhaustible books and chancing upon occasional fresh treasure.  The one book that has shaken me the most in the longest time is Anna DeForest’s  A History of Present Illness, which will be out next August.  It’s a blisteringly truthful novel written with moral grace and unsettling brilliance and an awing mastery of language.  A couple of recent books I have read in manuscript, books that totally knocked me out with their originality and uncanny command of the word, are Greg Gerke’s In the Suavity of the Rock (a novel) and David Nutt’s Summertime in the Emergency Room (a short-story collection).  I haven’t watched many movies in the past few months, and the ones I watched aren’t ones I’ll probably be rewatching anytime soon.  

[dannyphantom-rewrite]

Character ref for; Jack, Maddie and Jazz,

Art by @gally-hin / @gally-hin-phantom

Okay so first off; in terms of Actual redesign, I didn't change a whole lot. I'm actually very fond of Jack and Maddie's design's, my only real issue was with their proportions. Like...look as a lady person who is also thiCC I do not have a fucking wasp thin waist and I'm sure I'm not the only one, lmao. As for Jack? Godamnit he looked like a brick on toothpicks. Just Let him be a fucking Bara man! Anyway of course I asked Gally to do this one bc they're fucking great at drawing different body types

I also cannot and will not take credit for Jazz's outfit. I didn't have any issue with her canon clothes aside from them being a bit plain, so what she's wearing here was literally pulled straight off of her original concept art, which I will link here.

Anyway, getting to the Actual character lore now, let's start with

Maddie Fenton

-Full name is Madeline (I haven't decided on a maiden name yet)

-Born and raised on a farm in Arkansas, had a southern accent that she trained herself out of in college bc it was just one more reason for people not to take her seriously. Still sometimes uses "y'all" completely unironically bc old habits die hard.

-She has a really big family, and they're proud of her accomplishments but feel like she's wasting her talent studying ghosts, because really, up until the Fenton portal was up and running there wasn't even any solid proof they existed. Her sister Alicia is the one outlier there, and even if she doesn't understand, it she completely supports her.

-She majored in engineering and minored in psychology at Wisconsin EDU. Her, Jack and Vlad were all in the same engineering class, and that's where they met.

-Maddie is particularly interested in how ghosts think, analysing their behavior, their motives. Not only that, but they aren't just dead people with unfinished business, they've built an entire culture in the Ghost Zone that is completely seperate from humanity, and she wants to understand all of it.

-skilled marksman and 9th degree black belt, (which is. The highest fucking level there is holy shit? I looked it up after I saw it on her wiki page.)

Jack Fenton

-He's from Minnesota (Amity park is in Illinois and him and Maddie didn't move there until after they got married) 

-okay, "but why minnesota specifically" you ask? Because. I crave. Foot ball discourse. 

-minnesota vikings vs green bay packers guys do you UNDERSTAND WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS 

-The funny thing is that Jack only watches football casually while Vlad is a fucking die hard so when these two got together to see a game it was like....

-Jack: Here to chill and have a good time.

-Vlad: Primed and ready to start a fist fight at any given moment.

-I am never not going to be salty about how Canon Jack was portrayed like a complete moron 99% percent of the time. Like no...theres a difference between Actual Stupid and ADHD induced dumbass-ery.

-Am I saying Jack Fenton has ADHD? Yes. why? Because I also have ADHD and I have always vibed So Hard with his Character.

-Jack is loud and easily excited about things that interest him. He's impulsive and fidgety and yeah, a bit absent minded. He has a mouth that clearly runs so much faster than his head. His train of thought doesn't get derailed so much as it stops and takes several different detours on the way to it's final destination.

-and that's only the tip of the iceberg, really, I'd need an entire essay to get into this completely, but I just really relate.

-Jacks skill-set / interests regarding ghosts vary a bit from Maddie's, most notably in the sense that he doesn't believe that they're static entities already set in their ways, completely incapable of change.

-Jack majored in engineering and minored in Biology at Wisconsin EDU.

-Jack's work with tech is a bit hit or miss. He definitely HAS the engineering skills, but the intrest isn't always there and he's constantly jumping back and forth between different projects. He tends to focus on the concept work and schematics and leave most of the assembly to Maddie as a result. It's an arrangement that works well for them, and has drastically decreased the number of unintentional explosions in the lab.

-A lot of Jack's work tends to revolve around ghostly biology and Ectoplasm, figuring out how ghosts are made, what makes them tick, what the hell Ectoplasm Actually Is, how it's used as an energy source, ect.

-and yes, that does also mean he handles the dissections.

-See that facial scar? Yeah, that's not actually there at the start of the series rewrite but it's very important for plot reasons so I had to include it. Can't say much more on the subject because SPOILERs owo.

Jasmine Fenton

-Jazz is a 18 years old, and a senior at Casper high.

-Which means she prepping to go away to college and won't be around to keep an eye on Danny.

-Obviously that doesn't mean I'm just writing her out of the story, oh no. Know why? Because she's also gonna go to Wisconsin EDU. ya know who else is in Wisconsin? Fuckin' Vlad.

-Jazz is autistic, Although she passes for neurotypical in part due to symptoms being completely over looked in girls due to gender stereotyping and also the fact that she doesn't have any special interests that are considered " "too weird.""

- Her hyperfixation with psychology started at a young age in an effort to better understand people, and social/emotional cues and all that.

-Jazz is well liked at school but she's not popular or apart of any specific group or clique. She's very kind and compassionate to people, and just about everyone knows her, but you'd be hard pressed to find someone who actually Considered her a friend. Except maybe Spike.

-I'm gonna have to give spike his own Character ref at some point, but he's this scary looking goth kid that's been held back twice. He's actually super sweet, just really fuckin' quiet and anxious. Him and jazz kinda ended up gravitating towards each other. She might do most of the talking, but they look out for each other.

-its not like jazz doesn't try to socialize, but it's difficult and she's found it much easier and less stressful to just. Keep to herself and let her interactions with her peers stay shallow and superficial. Sure, it's lonely sometimes but it's better than constantly worrying about saying the wrong thing or making some other misstep.

-One of Jazz's other special interests is football, and it's not so much the players or the game as it is the strategy of it? Started out as one of those things you do to bond with your dad, and she ended up getting really into it.

-She absolutley winds up getting into stupidly intense discussions with Vlad about it, too, lmao.

-Her and Danny probably bonded over SBNation bc that shit has both sentient satellites and ridiculously complex football mechanics.

-She's completely oblivious to the fact, but Dash has a massive crush on her bc holy shit this girl understands football (hey bud your toxic masculinity is showing put that shit away)

-I mentioned that Danny was in Cheer for a bit in middle school so it makes sense that she'd also be pushed into doing some kind of extracurricular activity.....so.....she was in a martial arts class for a bit thanks to Maddie and has a good grasp on self defense.

I think that's everything? I feel like I'm leaving things out tho? Idk if I did I'll come back and add on to this later and also pls don't hesitate to ask questions bc it really helps me flesh things out better.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp These Are Books: the June 2021 Edition

I have read a lot of books this month. That should be stated upfront. Just an absolute metric ton of books. Some real good, some not-so good, some inadvertently hysterical. Also, I made that BINGO board. Because, like, you ever have a total crisis of writing-confidence and ignore that potential freakout and the tendency of your coworkers to miss deadlines by reading every free Amazon sports romance you can find? And several full YA series? In one month? No? My experiences are not universal, I understand. Anyway, there’s thoughts and opinions and spoilers under the cut. Everyone read the Once Upon a Con series, I’m begging you.

READ THIS SERIES! PLEASE! EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! EVERYONE IN EVERY BOOK WAS SO CUTE! THE FANDOM STUFF DID NOT GIVE ME SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT!

Geekerella by Ashley Poston Part romance, part love letter to nerd culture, and all totally adorbs, Geekerella is a fairy tale for anyone who believes in the magic of fandom. Geek girl Elle Wittimer lives and breathes Starfield, the classic sci-fi series she grew up watching with her late father. So when she sees a cosplay contest for a new Starfield movie, she has to enter. The prize? An invitation to the ExcelsiCon Cosplay Ball, and a meet-and-greet with the actor slated to play Federation Prince Carmindor in the reboot. With savings from her gig at the Magic Pumpkin food truck (and her dad’s old costume), Elle’s determined to win…unless her stepsisters get there first. Teen actor Darien Freeman used to live for cons—before he was famous. Now they’re nothing but autographs and awkward meet-and-greets. Playing Carmindor is all he’s ever wanted, but the Starfield fandom has written him off as just another dumb heartthrob. As ExcelsiCon draws near, Darien feels more and more like a fake—until he meets a girl who shows him otherwise. 

The Princess and the Fangirl by Ashley Poston Imogen Lovelace is an ordinary fangirl on an impossible mission: to save her favorite Starfield character, Princess Amara, from being killed off. On the other hand, the actress who plays Amara wouldn’t mind being axed. Jessica Stone doesn’t even like being part of the Starfield franchise—and she’s desperate to leave the intense scrutiny of fandom behind. Though Imogen and Jess have nothing in common, they do look strangely similar to one another—and a case of mistaken identity at ExcelsiCon sets off a chain of events that will change both of their lives. When the script for the Starfield sequel leaks, with all signs pointing to Jess, she and Imogen must trade places to find the person responsible. The deal: Imogen will play Jess at her signings and panels, and Jess will help Imogen’s best friend run their booth. But as these “princesses” race to find the script leaker—in each other’s shoes—they’re up against more than they bargained for. From the darker side of fandom to unexpected crushes, Imogen and Jess must find a way to rescue themselves from their own expectations...and redefine what it means to live happily ever after. 

Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston In this third book of the Once Upon a Con series, Rosie Thorne is feeling stuck—on her college application essays, in her small town, and on that mysterious General Sond cosplayer she met at ExcelsiCon. Most of all, she’s stuck in her grief over her mother’s death. Her only solace was her late mother’s library of rare Starfield novels, but even that disappeared when they sold it to pay off hospital bills. On the other hand, Vance Reigns has been Hollywood royalty for as long as he can remember—with all the privilege and scrutiny that entails. When a tabloid scandal catches up to him, he’s forced to hide out somewhere the paparazzi would never expect to find him: Small Town USA. At least there’s a library in the house. Too bad he doesn’t read. When Vance’s and Rosie’s paths collide, sparks do not fly. But as they begrudgingly get to know each other, their careful masks come off—and they may just find that there’s more risk in shutting each other out than in opening their hearts.

— I cannot possibly overstate what an absolute delight this series was. Cute and sweet and adorable. Like rot your teeth sweet with romances that my high-school self would have swooned over. (I would have been so in love with Darien Freeman as a 16 year old, it’s not even funny. Also, I would have been obsessed with Starfield.) Let’s be honest, my current self swooned quite a lot. Reading these books genuinely felt like a love letter to fandom. To the good and bad and trashy parts of it, and it made my heart swell thinking about these fictional kids and the community they found and how much they learned and then they FELL IN LOVE and, like, not to sound like an after-school special, but: THE REP IN THESE BOOKS?!?? HOLY S H I T. So good. So goddamn good. And not, like, shoved to the side. Like, Jess falls in love with a girl. And it gets its swoon-worthy moment as much as anyone else. Plus, bi-librarian dad who wears suspenders??? Sign. Me. Up. Twisting the fairy tales into the stories also worked really well in my opinion. Honestly my only gripe was that Darien found a cell phone number in the white pages, but, like, everything else was a joy. Please read these books. I promise they will make you smile.

IN WHICH I CAN NEVER TURN DOWN A BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge Betrothed to the evil ruler of her kingdom, Nyx has always known that her fate was to marry him, kill him, and free her people from his tyranny. But on her seventeenth birthday when she moves into his castle high on the kingdom's mountaintop, nothing is what she expected—particularly her charming and beguiling new husband. Nyx knows she must save her homeland at all costs, yet she can't resist the pull of her sworn enemy—who's gotten in her way by stealing her heart.

— Yo. YO. Everyone in this book was horrible! And it was wonderful! I figured out the twist approximately point two seconds after the potential for a twist was possibly introduced and it did not diminish my enjoyment of this book for one second. I am such a sucker for any Beauty and the Beast AU, but this was way different than anything I’d read before and Nyx was a blood-thirsty terror and I loved her. The magic and the world building was fascinating in that I really did not expect Greek gods and goddess, but it was also a welcome turn in a weird, huh, that’s interesting sort of way. And the banter was a-plus, top tier. Even when they were snarking at each other. Especially when they were snarking at each other. (Still a pretty quick turn from enemies to lovers, but I’m willing to overlook that based almost solely on the snark.) Plus, the castle was fascinating. And there were more twists aside from the main twist, none of which I figured out. All of which I gasped over. The end was like—chef’s kiss, fantastic. I would like a novel-length sequel to tell me how everything worked out.

...BUT THE LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD ONE WASN’T AS GOOD

Crimson Bound by Rosamund Hodge When Rachelle was fifteen she was good—apprenticed to her aunt and in training to protect her village from dark magic. But she was also reckless—straying from the forest path in search of a way to free her world from the threat of eternal darkness. After an illicit meeting goes dreadfully wrong, Rachelle is forced to make a terrible choice that binds her to the very evil she had hoped to defeat.Three years later, Rachelle has given her life to serving the realm, fighting deadly creatures in a vain effort to atone. When the king orders her to guard his son Armand—the man she hates most—Rachelle forces Armand to help her hunt for the legendary sword that might save their world. Together, they navigate the opulent world of the courtly elite, where beauty and power reign and no one can be trusted. And as the two become unexpected allies, they discover far-reaching conspiracies, hidden magic . . . and a love that may be their undoing. Within a palace built on unbelievable wealth and dangerous secrets, can Rachelle discover the truth and stop the fall of endless night?

— As much as I loved Cruel Beauty, I was like ehhhh on this one. Which is part Little Red Riding Hood (although that seems like a stretch, honestly) and part The Girl With No Hands, which is a fairy tale I have literally never heard of before. Rachelle was just—sorta whiny? Which, y’know, she was cursed and had fucked up her entire life, so fair, but also...annoying. I kept reading mostly to try and understand what the FUCK was going on with the magic. I like to consider myself a relatively intelligent person who can understand most YA novels, but this one was tough to keep track of. Like, sure, the imagery of the Dark Forest was cool, but also what is a Gladspring? I’m still not sure I know. Also, this kind of dragged in some places. Lots of patrolling the palace (whining about life) and not enough magic-fighting or establishing any sort of relationship between Rachelle and Armand. Which just sort of happened? Amidst, approximately, twenty-four different twists that were admittedly cool, but also felt like they came out of nowhere. Everything that happened in Cruel Beauty made sense. Most of what happened here felt like it was shoehorned in for shock value.

YOU WANT MORAL AMBIGUITY? BOY HAVE I GOT MORAL AMBIGUITY FOR YOU. IN GODDAMN SPADES.

The Firebird Series by Claudia Gray Marguerite Caine's physicist parents are known for their groundbreaking achievements. Their most astonishing invention, called the Firebird, allows users to jump into multiple universes—and promises to revolutionize science forever. But then Marguerite's father is murdered, and the killer—her parent's handsome, enigmatic assistant Paul— escapes into another dimension before the law can touch him.Marguerite refuses to let the man who destroyed her family go free. So she races after Paul through different universes, always leaping into another version of herself. But she also meets alternate versions of the people she knows—including Paul, whose life entangles with hers in increasingly familiar ways. Before long she begins to question Paul's guilt—as well as her own heart. And soon she discovers the truth behind her father's death is far more sinister than she expected.

— Guys. GUYS. These books, oh my G O D. Little known fact about me, but I am trash for cross-dimensional soulmates. The concept of “we’ll find each other anywhere” is one of my favorites, so I was so psyched about these books. And for awhile that’s what I thought I was going to get out of them. But. BUT! What I actually got was something, not totally different, but not entirely great, either. The problem here was that when anyone used one of the Firebird devices to jump dimensions they TOOK OVER THE BODY THEY JUMPED INTO. So, like, that consciousness got shoved to the side while whatever prime!person just took over. Living that body’s life. In a different dimension. And that’s kinda fucked up, right??? Brings in all sorts of questions about consent and morality and let me tell you, guys, this YA series DID NOT ADDRESS A SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Which is also super fucked up!! So, like, Marguerite is just bouncing around dimensions taking over people’s bodies and lives and leaving this, frankly, trail of destruction in her wake. And as if that wasn’t enough!!! In the second book Paul’s soul gets, like, split and she’s got to round up the pieces through dimensions, meeting all sorts of Pauls who are occasionally kind of shit people and he eventually just, like, CANNOT COPE. Seriously, I could not stop reading these. Partially for the moral ambiguity. Partially because I could not figure out why Paul loved Marguerite. Also, capitalism was the ultimate villain. AS IT SHOULD BE, REALLY.

CREEPY FAE WERE KIND OF CREEPY AND THAT’S NOT BAD, BUT LIKE MAYBE THIS WASN’T A GOOD BOOK?

An Enchantment of Ravens by Margaret Rogerson Isobel is an artistic prodigy with a dangerous set of clients: the sinister fair folk, immortal creatures who cannot bake bread or put a pen to paper without crumbling to dust. They crave human Craft with a terrible thirst, and Isobel’s paintings are highly prized. But when she receives her first royal patron—Rook, the autumn prince—she makes a terrible mistake. She paints mortal sorrow in his eyes—a weakness that could cost him his life. Furious, Rook spirits her away to his kingdom to stand trial for her crime. But something is seriously wrong in his world, and they are attacked from every side. With Isobel and Rook depending on each other for survival, their alliance blossoms into trust, then love—and that love violates the fair folks’ ruthless laws. Now both of their lives are forfeit, unless Isobel can use her skill as an artist to fight the fairy courts. Because secretly, her Craft represents a threat the fair folk have never faced in all the millennia of their unchanging lives: for the first time, her portraits have the power to make them feel.

— I’ve seen this book mentioned a lot. As good. And it wasn’t not good, but Isobel was pretty goddamn annoying and kind of dumb and a little self-important and I was mostly here for the creepy fae. That was fun. More fae should have antlers and stuff. Everything in this story happened ridiculously fast. I couldn’t believe it was over when it was over.

THE PROSE WAS VERY PRETTY. I’M NOT SURE WHY THE DRAGON HAD TO BE SUCH A MONUMENTAL DICK.

Uprooted  by Naomi Novik Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life. Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood. The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her. But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

— Let me just say first off, that this should have been two books. Everything happened so quickly, I swear I got whiplash. That being said, as a heroine, I liked Agnieszka a lot. She was understandably freaked by everything that happened, but once she kind of settled, she didn’t take The Dragon’s shit and that was good because The Dragon was kind of shitty. This is why it should have been two books. Because everything The Dragon did felt like it needed some kind of explanation. Or at least some sort of reasoning for why he was such a monumental bastard. Which is why I was a little confused that Agnieszka was in love with him? He was such a dick, honestly. The last third or so of this book was the best because Novik really does know how to write action and the magic itself was pretty fascinating. (I wish it went into more depth, but I think I’m spoiled by fic and that’s not actually how the publishing world works.) Kasia might have been the most interesting person in this story. Girl went through it and just became a total badass. I loved her.

MARAUDER FEELINGS! MARAUDER FEELINGS! SO! MANY! MARAUDER! FEELINGS!

The Raven King by Maggie Stiefvater All her life, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love's death. She doesn't believe in true love and never thought this would be a problem, but as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she's not so sure anymore.

— RICHARD GANSEY, MY BELOVED. What a dweeb. A self-sacrificing, sorta sad dweeb. When he wrapped his jacket around Blue, my heart exploded. I think I spent the last fifteen or so chapters with disconcertingly wide eyes and possibly my hand over my mouth. Still not entirely sure why a Welsh king was in Virginia, but I loved it. Was real glad he was there. As promised by that one book rec list I read months ago, the Marauders vibes of these books were off the charts. It was a weird story with lots of weird things and I hope Mr. Grey gets to be happy one day and that Ronan and Adam make out some more eventually. I think they’ll both feel a lot better if they do. Like, about the world as a whole. Has anyone read the Ronan spinoff series? Should I read the Ronan spinoff series?

OK, THIS WASN’T THAT BAD, ACTUALLY

To Love Jason Thorn by Ella Maise Jason Thorn... My brother's childhood friend. Oh, how stupidly in love with that boy I was. He was the first boy that made me blush, my first official crush. Sounds beautiful so far, right? That excitement that bubbles up inside you, those famous butterflies you feel for the very first time--he was the reason for them all. But, you only get to live in that fairytale world until they crush your hopes and dreams and then stomp on your heart for good measure. And boy did he crush my little heart into pieces. After the stomping part he became the boy I did my best to stay away from--and let me tell you, it was pretty hard to do when he slept in the room right across from mine. When tragedy struck his family and they moved away, I was ready to forget he ever existed. Now he is a movie star, the one who makes women of all ages go into a screaming frenzy, the one who makes everyone swoon with that dimpled smile of his. Do you think that's dreamy? I certainly don't think so. How about me coming face to face with him? Nope still not dreamy. Not when I can't even manage to look him in the eye. Me? I'm Olive, a new writer. Actually, I'm THE writer of the book that inspired the movie he is about to star in on the big screen. As of late, I am also referred to as the oh-so-very-lucky girl who is about to become the wife of Jason Thorn. Maybe you're thinking yet again that this is all so dreamy? Nope, nothing dreamy going on here. Not even close.

— Ignoring the fact that this was almost blatant self-insert, this was a mostly good, occasionally trashy book with brother’s best friend and the one who got away tropes. Which, as we know, are my life’s blood. (Plus, surprise, fake marriage that isn’t really fake?!? Ok. OK!) My only eeek moment was when Olive got super drunk and wanted Jason to like—consummate the marriage and he was like, No Olive, you’re drunk. And then they ended up doing everything except having full-on sex, which felt a little creep and a lot sketch and then it was never mentioned again. Also, Olive needs to find some better friends, God.

EMERSON COD VOICE: HE’S STAAAAAALKING YOU

Marriage For One by Ella Maise Jack and I, we did everything backward. The day he lured me into his office-which was also the first day we met-he proposed. You'd think a guy who looked like him-a bit cold maybe, but still striking and very unattainable-would only ask the love of his life to marry him, right? You'd think he must be madly in love. Nope. It was me he asked. A complete stranger who had never even heard of him. A stranger who had been dumped by her fiancé only weeks before. You'd think I'd laugh in his face, call him insane-and a few other names-then walk away as quickly as possible. Well…I did all those things except the walking away part. It took him only minutes to talk me into a business deal…erm, I mean marriage, and only days for us to officially tie the knot. Happiest day of my life. Magical. Pop the champagne… Not. It was the worst day. Jack Hawthorne was nothing like what I'd imagined for myself. I blamed him for my lapse in judgment. I blamed his eyes, the ocean blue eyes that looked straight into mine unapologetically, and that frown on his face I had no idea I would become so fascinated with in time. It wasn't long after he said I was the biggest mistake of his life that things started to change. No, he still didn't talk much, but anyone can string a few words together. His actions spoke the loudest to me. And day after day my heart started to get a mind of its own.

— Ok, ok, ok, so I enjoyed the Jason Thorn book, right? Was, like, how bad could this other book be? And it wasn’t bad, but it was patently ridiculous. Let me explain what happened. Not entirely sorry for the spoilers. Jack the lawyer sees that Rose is only going to get the space for her coffee shop from her uncle’s will if she marries someone. She WAS engaged, but the guy split. For reasons no one can understand, especially Rose. She’s sad. She’s spent so much money on espresso machines! Enter Jack the lawyer who one random afternoon is like: HEY ROSE, YOU’RE MOSTLY A STRANGER, BUT I ALSO NEED TO GET MARRIED FOR REASONS I’LL ONLY SORTA EXPLAIN, LETS DO THAT. So they do???? And Jack the lawyer continues to be kinda weird and a little shady, but Rose has got the coffee shop and things are going well. Until! She’s got a leaky brain!!! That’s not a joke. Not a typo. Out of goddamn LEFT FIELD, Rose has got some horrible medical condition, so thank God she got married because Jack the lawyer’s got great health insurance. (this is ROMANTIC) and she’s got to have an operation and he stays with her and sleeps in the hospital chair and her coffee shop is somehow still going strong??? On Madison Avenue??? What sit-down coffee shop on Madison Avenue do you guys know that would succeed? None because it’s not downtown. I digress. Anyway, Rose makes a miraculous recovery, she and Jack the lawyer are now almost in love? At least having a shit ton of sex. They’re mostly happily married. Until, part two! The ex-fiance shows up and is like JACK THE LAWYER PAID ME TO BREAK UP WITH YOU. To which Rose is understandably flabbergasted. She confronts Jack the lawyer who fesses that he’s been seriously crushing on her since they met at her uncle’s Christmas party. She doesn’t remember this. He does. BECAUSE HE’S A STALKER. So, he knew about the will stipulation with marriage BACK THEN, which is why he used FIRM RESOURCES to investigate the ex-fiance and found out he was a con man, using Rose with plans to basically steal all her money. This infuriated Jack the lawyer because he thought Rose deserved better and then proceeded to basically con her himself, just in a different way. With marriage! He told her he needed to get married to show he was a family man to make partner. THAT WAS A LIE. He didn’t need it at all. He just—wanted to marry her??? To help her??? What a psycho. She leaves. He continues to lurk outside the coffee shop. They make up. No one mentions the stalking. The end.

I KEEP GIVING HELENA SECOND CHANCES AND SHE KEEPS...NOT DESERVING THEM

All In Series by Helena Hunting Sometimes I need an escape from the demands, the puck bunnies, and the notoriety that come with being an NHL team captain. I just want to be a normal guy for a few weeks. So when I leave Chicago for some peace and quiet, the last thing I expect is for a gorgeous woman to literally fall into my lap on a flight to Alaska. Even better, she has absolutely no idea who I am.Lainey is the perfect escape from my life. My plan for seclusion becomes a monthlong sex fest punctuated with domestic bliss. But it ends just as abruptly as it began. When I’m called away on a family emergency, I realize too late that I have no way to contact Lainey.A year later, a chance encounter throws Lainey and me together again. But I still have a lie hanging over my head, and Lainey’s keeping secrets of her own. With more than lust at stake, the truth may be our game changer.

— Last year I read a hockey romance by Helena Hunting that was very cute and traditionally published and she’s got a bunch more free Amazon books that, for some reason, I keep downloading and reading and they continue to be absolutely ridiculous. That first one was a not-so-secret accidental pregnancy (as previously discussed ONE TIME without a condom mention and bam pregnant) but the second one with Rook’s sister was actually pretty cute. I’m not sure why they all called him Rook. Almost all these series have at least one book with someone recovering from an injury and they inevitably fall in love with their physical therapist. So, that one was pretty ok. None of these, however, were quite as entertaining as (wait for it) QUEENIE AND KINGSTON. WHOSE FRIENDS AND TEAMMATES ALL CALL HIM KING. QUEENIE. AND. KING. Gag. I read it anyway. At least 99% of that decision was based solely on the fact that the story started just after King found out his sister was actually his mom. How am I supposed to stop reading THAT?!? I ask you. Highlights of Queenie and King’s romance included: him calling his mom/sister MOMSTER, Queenie being secretly married this whole time, WITHOUT KNOWING IT, his strawberry allergy that flared up because she’d had a strawberry milkshake and then GAVE HIM A BLOWJOB, her dad finding out they were dating because he was the GM of the team and saw that his starting goalie was having a MASSIVE allergic reaction, Queenie’s eventual ex-husband getting engaged to someone who previously tried to self-inseminate to trap Rook into a relationship (I am not making this up, I swear) and then when he found out that his fiancee’s kid wasn’t actually his, he got into a massive fight and earned a 20-game suspension. THAT’S A QUARTER OF AN NHL SEASON. Tom Wilson got fined five thousand dollars for practically killing Artemi Panarin on the ice! I did not read the last book in this series because it was MORE ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCY and because it was Queenie’s dad and King’s mom and that meant they’d share a sibling. Which is where I draw the line, guys.

THERE WERE SEVEN BOOKS IN THIS SERIES! EVERY SINGLE ONE HAD TO HAVE A SCENE WHERE THE DUDE UNDERSTOOD THAT PERIODS WERE A THING???? LIKE THAT WAS IMPRESSIVE SOMEHOW?!?!

Hot Jocks Series by Kendall Ryan I've never been so stupid in my entire life. My teammate's incredibly sweet and gorgeous younger sister should have been off-limits, but my hockey stick didn't get that memo. After our team won the championship, and plenty of alcohol, our flirting turned physical and I took her to bed. Shame sent her running the next morning from our catastrophic mistake. She thinks I don't remember that night—but every detail is burned into my brain so deeply, I’ll never forget. The feel of her in my arms, the soft whimpers of pleasure I coaxed from her perfect lips…And now I’ve spent three months trying to get her out of my head. Which has been futile, because I’m starting to understand she’s the only girl I’ll ever want. I have one shot to show her I can be exactly what she needs, but Elise won’t be easily convinced. That’s okay, because I’m good under pressure, and this time, I’m playing for keeps.

—I read all of these. All. Of. Them. They were exceptionally quick reads. Every single one had a copious amount of sex in it and a very weird, apparently required scene, where the dude had to be like I’M NOT SQUICKED OUT BY PERIODS AM I NOT THE ULTIMATE EXAMPLE OF MASCULINITY?? My favorite one was Grant and Ana’s, though, because it was so goddamn absurd I cannot believe someone wrote it. Basic gist was that Ana was dating someone on Grant’s team (he’s the captain, natch) but the guy was a dick and abusive and so one night Ana decides to leave, but she needs someone to help her and WHO DOES SHE TURN TO??? That’s right, reclusive captain Grant. Who’s spent the last few years watching his teammates marry-up and start families and he’s so jealous, but he can’t say anything because he’s a stoic MAN™. So he takes Ana and her dog (of course she’s got a dog) back to his super swanky bachelor pad and she just sort of...stays there? Video of the boyfriend accosting her at her job gets leaked and the boyfriend gets sent to the AHL which is not really how it would work, but fine. Naturally, Grant and Ana hook up. It’s emotional. Vaguely romantic. There’s no GODDAMN CONDOM. So, she gets pregnant. But, of course. Except! She doesn’t know if it’s dick boyfriend’s or Grant’s. Because he’s the male lead in a free sports romance on Amazon, Grant is the MOST understanding. He wants to help Ana. He would like to continue having sex with Ana. This is ready-made happily ever after. Only Ana’s like...eh?? She doesn’t want it to look like she bounced from one hockey player to the next, but also she sorta did and she kept telling Grant she just wanted to be friends, only to have sex, like, three chapters later. Then she just moved out! Just moved out. Seven months pregnant. Moving out. With her dog. Of course, this is a free sports romance on Amazon, so eventually she moved back in with Grant. Once she realized independence wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And because he left practice to be there when she had the baby. Oh! And she got a DNA test after. To see whose kid it was. Grant ripped that ‘ish up. Just ripped it up. Which is cool, I guess. But, like, you didn’t want to double check? What if that kid has to go to the hospital? Did she put Grant’s name on the birth certificate? What are his parental rights?? Anyway, they’re all set to live HEA when....THE DICK BOYFRIEND DIES. Straight up. No explanation. Nothing. Just Grant tells Ana he’s dead, she’s like, oh wow that’s sad, they send some flowers to the funeral and that’s THAT. I assume this was to close any potential plot holes on the father of this baby, but it was hysterical and I cannot stop thinking about it. Strangely enough, the one where the couple made a secret sex tape in college and then got back together because it got released may have been the healthiest relationship in this series.

[paperclipninja]

Lucifer post-ep ramble 5x01

Hi there, long time fangirl, first time Lucifan. After devouring all 4.5 seasons of this magnificent show in an impressive/alarming (all a matter of perspective) amount of time, I have very quickly found myself well and truly obsessed dedicated to all things Lucifer. And when a show grabs me like this one has, I tend to have a lot of thoughts and feelings that I can’t help but share, and so the post-ep ramble was born. It will probably contain many words, it may or may not be particularly coherent, there will definitely be over-analysing, but I thought I might indulge in re-capping the season 5 eps as I re-watch, so this is the first ramble off the rank. 

‘Really Sad Devil Guy’ (A+ ep name btw) kicks off as we’re still scrambling to pick up all our heart pieces after the season 4 finale, which is why Mr. Said Out Bitch (aka Lee Garner) being in Hell is such a cracker of an opening. Lucifer just waiting below deck on Fishizzle II (wth happened to Fishizzle I??) to greet him with his trademark ‘hello’ made me disproportionately happy, mostly because he was on my screen but also because his encounters with Mr. SOB are always great and this was no exception. Getting an insight into ‘life in Hell’, the way the characters in the Hell loops are played by Demons and Lucifer in action as the King was fab at this point in the series. And does anyone else have a visceral reaction to Lucifer stopping that bullet? I know it’s brief, I cannot explain it, it might be the command he has, the fact it’s awesome, but it makes me FEEL things. Just me? Cool.

I think what really strikes me in the way Lucifer just has to pop in on Mr. SOB upon hearing of his arrival, is the fact that he is a link to Lucifer’s life on Earth. They’ve existed in the same places there, breathed the same air, it’s a way for Lucifer to make that connection to his home more tangible. And when he realises where Mr. SOB’s hell loop has them moored, at Marina Del Ray, the way Lucifer says 'Los Angeles' with such yearning makes those heart pieces I had started cobbling back together really begin to ache. What this episode pulls off so brilliantly is the way Chloe and Lucifer remain connected despite being apart, and it’s all set up when Lucifer tells Mr. SOB, ‘You know, there's a good chance I know who's on your case. To them it's only been a few months, a blink of an eye, but here it's been much much longer’.

What’s happening ‘below deck’ in Hell (sorry...or am I?) is of course mirrored at the crime scene, where Maze is still calling Ella Ellen (never change Maze ILY) and Ella is banging on about Lucifer not responding to her DM’s and texts and it’s all so on brand and the thought of her sending Lucifer a clip of a parrot dancing to techno and him finding it funny is just too perf. Maze having Chloe’s back from the get-go and telling Ella to ‘read the room’ just shows how far this Demon has come. And of course Chloe saying that she hasn’t even really thought about Lucifer since he left...(spoiler alert: she has).

Seeing Maze and Chloe out drinking and dancing, somehow they're kinda dorky together and I love it, but it’s also really clear that they’re both leaning on each other pretty heavily and being there for one another and honestly, I love literally every combination of characters on Lucifer, you put any two together and the dynamic is 100% their own and these two are up there. It’s so weird seeing Amandiel running Lux, I big L LOVE Amenadiel but it’s just...wrong. Plus hats off to D.B. because his delivery of ‘No one sells drugs in my place...without me getting a piece of the action’, not gonna lie, I was THROWN.

So are we assuming that the number of months Lucifer has been gone = the number of times Chloe has rocked up to work with a hangover? Lol at the sunglasses but also, you do you Chloe, whatever you gotta do babe. Just like Amenadiel running Lux is like watching a slightly off AU version of the show, so is seeing Maze and Chloe as partners at work. Don’t get me wrong, Maze clearly supporting her and when they’re interrogating a lead, seeing Chloe and Maze have such a groove that they’re finishing each other's sentences and communicating without talking, I dig it. But I love that while it’s great, it still doesn’t feel right. Because that there is why this show is so clever, as an audience we crave the return to the way things were just as the characters we are watching do.

Linda being a completely OTT mum is so fab. I could write an entire essay about my Linda love. Her adamance that ‘Charlie’s special’ and Ella’s ‘every child is special in their mum’s eyes, huh?’ sums it up perfectly. Did I mention I adore Ella? I definitely get the distinct impression Ella is doing a bit of self-reflection, her comment about being drawn to the bad boys for some reason clearly foreshadowing, but also her reflecting that she deserves a good guy for once (just not this ep when there is a bad boy/potential suspect to be hooked up with). I am curious to see the ‘darkness’ Ella has alluded to in earlier seasons being explored further and feel like this is sowing the seeds and I’m also waiting for a significant Linda/Ella D&M at some point. But clearly not this point, because 'science lesson Wednesdays...I checked your schedule and that's your day off' Linda is NOT about deep and meaningfuls (or anyone who isn’t a 2 month old baby), you need to DIAL IT DOWN friend.  I love that it takes Trixie pulling some funny faces and Dan offering some sage parenting advice as he returns the self-help books (love the irony there) for Linda to begin to chill a bit.          

So Dan has gone all new age with his oils and self improvement and you know what? I love it. And then of course we have Amenadiel needing to help make the world a safer place, he just needs to make sure for Charlie ya know and ugh my ovaries. I must say, I was relieved to realise that the club life had not in fact corrupted the delightful warrior we all love after all - it’s all a ploy to catch a REAL BIG TIME drug dealer (nooooo I can feel the second hand embarrassment already...)! Amenadiel setting up the ‘drug bust’, telling the dealer, ‘looks like gooood drugs’, oh you dear sweet naïve Angel you. We of course discover that the bust is, well, a bust, because the ‘drug lord’ is actually a kid trying to offload his mum’s pain meds *insert facepalm emoii here*. But rather than ridicule or be angry, Dan is so understanding and supportive of Amenadiel and once again offers up advice and I really am so into this friendship on every level and the care and openness it models.

Meanwhile, the genius parallel between what is happening on Earth and in Hell really takes effect as Chloe and Maze go undercover (I mean, they are a glam couple lbh) to the poker game while Lucifer is at a game hosted by the same suspect in Mr. SOB’s ‘exquisite’ Hell loop. His exclamation that it’s exquisite reflects that Lucifer and Mr. SOB are not that different, that it’s the kind of place Lucifer might manifest as well, but I also feel that Lucifer could be admiring his own Kingdom’s handiwork at creating LA with such accuracy from someone’s subconscious. He allows himself to be absorbed in it, ‘City of Angels, I’ve missed you’, and I can’t help but get the impression that hearing Lucifer call LA this for the first time is confirmation that his Heaven, or place of Angels, is in fact there with Chloe.

Chloe remains firmly in the forefront of Lucifer’s mind this entire episode, with him asking ‘what would she do?’ and wanting to replicate the life he had with her at the precinct. But of course he is soon reminded of his reality, as he tries to get more information from Mr. SOB who is being useless. Lucifer incorrectly calling him ’Detective’ shatters the illusion that he is any closer to Chloe, and this is impressively emphasised as he erases the LA cityscape to reveal the Hellscape. For a moment he’d let himself believe he was back there. Back home. His, ‘you’re not her’ making some of my heart pieces fall out once again.

But then the messenger arrives, ‘Lord Morningstar, there’s someone you should meet’ and lo and behold it’s guy who just got hit by car up on the Earth-side of this investigation and I.am. loving. it. Also, did Lucifer put out a Hell-wide memo that if ANYONE arrives from LA they are to be bought to him so he can send messages to Chloe through their bodies??? NO REALLY I'M FINE. Having a Demon possess the dead dude’s body to pass on the tip from Lucifer was just TOO MUCH. His, ‘hey is that Mazikeen?’ made me actually lol but also, look how far we’ve come! Chloe doesn’t even flinch when the dead guy wakes up possessed to pass on Lucifer’s message. I’m so proud. 

'It's safe where you stored it' caused me way more amusement than was perhaps intended, but Ella, Maze and Chloe together, trying to figure out what it meant, it's such a great moment and the comedic timing is gold. Also, the fact it actually helps the case, ugh, Chloe and Lucifer are still connected and working together even though they are not on the same plane of existence and I’m just going to need to curl up for a minute because feelings.

You know who else is having a lot of feelings in this ep? The Devil himself. After he is satisfied he has passed on the message, he’s done with Mr. SOB, sending him, ‘back to your torture. And me to mine’. Any remnants of my heart are now once again shattered all over the floor in case you’re wondering. Lucifer doesn’t even try to hide the fact that being away from Chloe is so painful, almost revealing more than he ever usually would when Mr. SOB asks if she’s ‘somebody important?' to which he replies, 'more than you could ever know'. 

He only just stops himself before telling Mr. SOB her name, when he realises he's trying to manipulate him. And I'm so glad, Lucifer so sparingly uses Chloe’s name, it's always significant when he does and I feel like he reserves those moments for only between them. But Mr. SOB really does sum it up when he observes, ‘you just seem like a really sad Devil guy’, BECAUSE HE IS A REALLY SAD DEVIL GUY (can we just take a moment to appreciate how not at all scared of Lucifer Mr. SOB is, he doesn’t even refer to him as THE Devil, just ‘Devil guy’. It’s kind of nice that he sees and accepts him as both Devil and human without really questioning it). 

The parallel continues as Chloe and Lucifer are talking to a sister and brother  and the way this highlights the place they're both in. It's just brilliant writing and execution. Chloe is talking to Meg about her brother’s death and both her and Lucifer's yearning for one another is palpable. At the same time, Maze telling Chloe that they don’t need Lucifer and kissing Chloe highlights Maze’s desire for connection and love. She wants it so badly and the way she shuts down when Chloe suggests they stop working together breaks my heart.

When Lucifer takes Mr. SOB to the root of his Hell loop, yes, it’s about Lucifer projecting his own guilt and lack of self worth onto him, but his assertion that, 'it is inevitable sooner or later you're going to disappoint them all over again. So you'd rather stay away for all eternity’, really feels as though it carries multiple meanings. As a self-referential comment, is Lucifer talking about Heaven or Earth? Is it his fear of disappointing and letting down Chloe and the other humans or is it his belief that he disappointed his family? And if Angels self-actualise does that mean he was never 'stuck' in Hell at all and could have returned to Heaven? I certainly feel there is some sort of realisation occurring here. Or could be completely over-analysing it. Why not have both 🤷‍♀️

You know the line that just up and got me though? ‘Whose hell is this anyway? Are you sure this is my hell? You just here torturing yourself’- Mr. SOB calling Lucifer out is A MOMENT. And I can’t help but wonder if a part of it is Lucifer wanting Mr. SOB to come to terms with his own guilt, wanting to help him because he knows he’s not evil and he is trying to reconcile his own guilt too. If he can help Mr. SOB face and let go of the guilt then he has a chance of it too. And that’s when Mr. SOB challenges Lucifer, pointing out that he missed his chance, ‘but what about you?’ 'The self-centred simplicity of you humans never ceases to amaze me...I am here out of responsibility, I had to protect humanity, I had to protect HER', the delivery of this line, the frustration of being misunderstood, of ppl thinking that he acts for himself when his very reason for being back in Hell is for others, I can feel it through the screen.

The dead guy we saw get shot in the kitchen appearing at that moment with news about ‘the Detective’ and then cutting straight back to the shoot up in the house, file under: how to brilliantly edit. “Lucifer” appearing; the whistle, the casually strolling in, the ‘hello bad guys’ = I was FOOLED. I mean you have to admit, the ‘thought I'd give you a hand' pun was well played, classic Lucifer, very convincing.  My shipper heart was SO FULL for the split second Lucifer and the Detective kissed, until Chloe realised that something was off and her open eyes told us something was up. The cut back to Hell and seeing Lucifer still standing there with Mr. SOB...you may have heard my ‘noooooooo’ from wherever you are. ‘She’ll be just fine without me’...said every Devil who has a dick twin brother who’s going to try and destroy, nay STEAL, his life and love of his life ever.

Michael, you're an evil bastard but damn you nailed that villainous smirk over-the-shoulder pose in the final shot. Whatever you have in store, I will no doubt revel in your awfulness and be confused about whether or not I hate you. 

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Raindrops

Read on Ao3 Based on this post from @blinksinbewilderment

Summary: Virgil's cold, Logan’s helpful, and it happens to be raining outside.

Warnings: Touch-starvation (which we’re pretending can become serious after a week), mostly just gays being snuggly

Pairing: Analogical

    Virgil was having a bad day.

    The day had been long, his teachers had been more idiotic than usual, he had a small mountain of papers as homework, and Patton had been gone a week on vacation. Which meant along with school stress, he wasn’t even getting any hugs, which made him cold and irritable. Of course, the obvious solution to this problem was to get hugs from someone else.

    But Roman was busy with the fall play, so Virgil wasn’t going to annoy him. And his roommate, Logan (who he most certainly did not have a crush on), wasn’t very touchy. 

    So it seemed he was just going to die waiting for Patton to come back. This was the only way to deal with the problem. At least it would get him out of the three page essay he had to write for english.

    An essay he had been staring at for an hour without doing anything about. He was just too distracted to do anything. It was too rainy outside for him to make a walk to Starbucks, which meant he had no coffee, which meant there was nothing to warm the cold void inside his stomach, which meant he was shivering despite the heavy hoodie he was trying to pretend was as heavy as Patton when he was holding Virgil.

    It also meant the sleep he hadn’t been bothering to catch up on for the last two nights was slinking into the corners of his mind and trying to convince him taking a nap on his desk right in front of Logan was a good idea.

    “Virgil?”

    Virgil flinched hard enough to knock his pencil off his desk, caught off-guard by Logan, who had been silent the entire afternoon. He glanced down at the fallen writing utensil before deciding attempting to pick it up had a high chance of causing him to fall out of the chair. He moved his gaze over to Logan. “Yes?”

    “Are you alright?” Logan asked, closing his book to focus his frown on Virgil. “You seem to be… not fully here.”

    Virgil waved a dismissive hand. “It’s alright, specs, no need to worry. I’m just a little tired. English’s too boring to focus on, anyways.”

    Logan’s frown didn’t go away. “Are you sure that is all that is bothering you?” He asked. Virgil sighed internally. Why did he have to get such a perceptive roommate?

    Drumming his fingers on his desk, Virgil chose to go with the approach most likely to fly over Logan’s head: sarcasm.

    “Oh, you know how it is.” He started, keeping his tone light. “When you just really wanna hold someone’s hand, wanna be snuggly, wanna be held tight while they rest their chin on your head.”

    He put stress on the actual touching actions, hoping the over-dramatic tone hid his deep desire to genuinely do them.

    Logan placed his book down, his worry somehow even more increased. Seems the sarcasm didn’t work.

    “Virgil, it sounds like you are quite possibly touch-starved. When’s the last time you participated in human contact?”

    He sounded… really serious. Virgil wasn’t expecting that, and he answered honestly, “I, uh, I guess not since Patton left for his trip?”

    “A week ago?”

    “Yeah…?” Virgil responded, not liking the concerned face Logan refused to drop. He turned back to his barely touched essay. “It’s fine, Lo, really; I just-”

    Apparently, Virgil was more out of it then he thought, given he hadn’t even heard Logan get off his bed or walk over. But Logan definitely had, if the arms now wrapped around him meant anything.

    He stiffened in surprise, and the arms around him loosed in response.

    “Apologies if this makes you uncomfortable, Virgil. I can go find someone else you would be more comfortable with, if you wish, but given the possible long-term effects of touch-starvation, I cannot figuratively or literally ‘stand by.’”

    “I, uh,” Virgil coughed, trying to cover the waver his voice had mysteriously gotten now that there was something warm and heavy and human leaning on him, “I’m good. If you don’t mind, of course, I don’t want to impose or-”

    “I assure you Virgil, I am perfectly content with this.” Logan replied before Virgil could continue, his own tone calming and assured. “Human touch and contact is as necessary to our optimal survival as eating. I am not at all uncomfortable with providing it.”

    “Oh… okay.” Virgil mumbled. “If you’re sure.”

    Logan hummed in affirmation, before asking, “Do you mind if we move? This position is less than constructive towards the well-being of my back.”

    For the first time since he had come over, Virgil looked at Logan. The other student was awkwardly half-crouching to be on the right level to hug Virgil.

    “Oh, eek, yeah we can move. Do you want to sit on the floor, or…?”

    “I believe our beds would be substantially more enjoyable to rest on.”

    “That… that makes more sense.” Virgil admitted sheepishly. He wasn’t going to mention the fact that bed had been his first thought as well, one he didn’t want to voice in case Logan thought he was being weird.

    Logan let go of Virgil, giving Virgil a few seconds to miss the loss of warmth before he took his hand, gently tugging him out of his chair and towards Logan’s bed.

    “We can lay on your bed if you’d prefer, but given the state of it…” Logan trailed off, glancing at Virgil’s clothes covered bed.

    “Your bed’s fine.” Virgil said, watching as Logan took his book off and slipped it back into his backpack.

    Logan hesitated a moment, glancing at Virgil apologetically. “Would you mind removing your hoodie?”

    “What? Why?”

    “Skin-to-skin contact better works to reverse the effects of touch-starvation.” Logan answered. “Numerous studies have concluded that skin-to-skin contact benefits not only infants, but humans of all ages. It can help to relax, calm, and de-stress.”

    “Oh.” Virgil replied mildly before nodding. “Alright.” He regrettable let go of Logan’s hand and pulled off his hoodie. He tried to ignore the way Logan was pretending to not be staring.

    Not that Logan had any reason to be staring. It wasn’t like he was always wearing his hoodie. Just in the winter and fall. And spring. And summer. And inside. And while lifting (to settle a year-long bet). And while on trips. Sometimes while sleeping. He had gotten into the bath with it on twice as a joke. Taken more showers in it than he’d care to admit.

    Alright, so maybe he wore it a lot. Sue him. It still wouldn’t make any sense for Logan to be so clearly not looking at him (and still sometimes glancing back, like he was stealing a look).

    “I, um, I’m ready if you are.” Virgil said, cringing immediately at how awkward it sounded. Didn’t help he felt practically naked in just his black t-shirt. Or that Logan was acting like he wasn’t looking at him.

    Logan coughed, seemingly startled, before responding, “I am also ready.”

    Great. They were both feeling awkward now. At least it was even playing fields, Virgil decided.

    After another moment of standing in uneasy silence, Logan laid down on the bed, shifting a little to get as comfortable as possible before he lifted an arm, clearly beckoning Virgil to join him.

    Virgil didn’t react for a moment, biting his tongue and starting to regret this decision. This was weird, wasn’t it? To just casually cuddle with your roommate/crush? Who was likely just doing it to stop you from hurting yourself due to biological crap?

    But then he shivered, still feeling unnaturally cold, and any resolve he might have had crumbled. He climbed into the bed, rolling over so his back was to Logan, waiting for the other to have an objection to it.

    Logan didn’t say anything, however; he simply scooted a little bit forward so he could wrap his arms around Virgil, pressing against his back. He even tucked his chin over Virgil’s head.

    “Is this adequate?” Logan asked, softly. Virgil didn’t respond at first, too focused on the fact that Logan was right there and warm and holding him and damnit why had he never asked for a hug from Logan before, this was really nice and-

    “Virgil?”

    Oh. Yeah. Words communicated things. Not just thoughts.

    “Yeah, it’s uh… it’s great.” Virgil answered.

    Logan hummed, the vibrations in his chest soothing against Virgil’s back. “Good.”

    They lapsed into silence after that, Virgil gradually curling closer into Logan while listening to the raindrops drum against the window. After his mind finally got out of its loop of warm safe good perfect, everything was calm and relaxing, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to not fall asleep. It was nice.

    Until his brain unhelpfully turned back on to point out the fact that warm safe good perfect was his crush. This would have been problematic for a full-functioning being. For Virgil, however, who was half a beat away from falling asleep, it was disastrous. 

    Because a sleepy Virgil? That was a shameless Virgil.

    “You know a lot about this touch-starvation stuff.” He mumbled, breaking the silence.

    “It has come up in a few research projects.”

    “Mmmhmmm. So you’d be able to answer most questions about it, yeah?”

    “Most, yes.” Logan replied non-committedly. “Why, do you have any?”

    “Just one.” Virgil shifted so that he was partially facing Logan. “Can lips get touch-starved?”

    “It’s not an area that touch-starvation research has really looked into, so I can’t give you a definite answer.” Logan responded, face neutral. Virgil thought he’d have to be more obvious when Logan smirked and added, “If it concerns you, however, we could always take preventive measures.”

    “Oh, really?” Virgil asked coyly. “And what might those be?”

    Logan’s answer wasn’t verbal.

    Virgil pulled away from the kiss after a minute, rolling over more so that he was fully facing Logan. He wrapped his arms around him before squishing his face into the crook of Logan’s neck, quickly losing the battle against going to sleep.

    “We should cuddle more often.” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut as he did so, no longer having any resolve to keep them open.

    Logan chuckled, nestling his chin back on top of Virgil’s head before responding, “Yes, I think we should.”

    It was the last thing Virgil heard before he drifted off to sleep, happily snuggled in the embrace of the man he loved, raindrops still pattering on the window.

[mwritesink]

A mumble mumble of thoughts about Fire Emblem Three Houses

Right. So I’ve completed all four routes of three houses and I have thoughts. 

I mean, big thought is that I love the game considering that I went right back in and started another play through of Blue Lions. and sooner or later I’ll pick back up my written let’s play but not right now because I’m over extended as it is and playing three houses has been both a solace from my own over extension and a perpetuator of it. 

Anyway

This is not meant to be a well thought out essay, it’s just my thoughts and not really going in for debate because that way only lies me being depressed. 

I like all the routes, each has their strengths and weaknesses and I find the writing overall, while not galaxy brained good, is pretty damned good, and it does an interesting turn with making sure that no route gives you the full picture of the world of Fodlan. You have to play the entire game to scratch the surface of the truth, and even then players still have to cobble together what the facts actually are. The only characters that have all the cards are Rhea and the Agarthans. Rhea keeps hers fairly close to the chest, letting out one or two if there is no other choice, but the Agarthans have more cards than Rhea and are willing to play the ones that enhance their worldview.  

yes there are flaws in the writing and it isn’t as tight as one might hope for being able to tie up it’s loose ends and keep the plot as internally consistent as it would need for having, essentially, four AUs stacked on top of each other. The weaknesses of the writing fall largely on the plot and it’s treatment of who exactly are the antagonists and the motivations therein. 

I really like Edelgard, and I really like Rhea. However, the writing does a disservice to both of them. for the first half of the game, Rhea is set up to be a smiling antagonist. You have Jeralt being openly suspicious of her, you have Seteth questioning her decisions and being summarily shot down without answers, you have a noted instance of the church executing a person for an incident unrealted to the church and without trial (yes mitigating circumstances that are only found out through supports), you have the Lonato incident where raising an army (of civilians by all implications) merits the death of both him and the civilians (yes he intended to use that army to attack the central church and yes there is definitely an argument that she only marshals the church as a reaction to a threat). Nothing in the School Phase is set up to have a player trust Rhea at first blush. But in the second half, when she’s not there, the writing does an about face to say that no, really, you should have been trusting her the whole time. Except in Crimson Flower where she becomes the spiritual/end game antagonist. 

Yes I know she has her reasons for being shady and keeping her secrets close and the truth of the world closer, but it doesn’t change the about face re: trust the game gives her. 

Now for Edelgard. Edelgard is in a tough place writing wise. One the one hand, she’s the Big Red Emperor/physical antagonist on Silver Snow and Verdant Wind, and both the spiritual and physical antagonist in Azure Moon. On the other, she’s the protagonist of her own route, the face of the game’s advertising, and the speaker of the game’s theme. I believe the writing really did her dirty. They try to pull her in too many directions at the same time, so her motivations, tactics, and ideals all get thrown into a cocktail shaker that never pours out the same drink twice. It then becomes very easy for fans to take their selected drink and run with it, while not considering the other drinks made, or what all those drinks together might make. It doesn’t help that, of the three lords, Edelgard’s development as a character, and the impacts of her rule, are most impacted by the presence and absence of other people at her side. (Ex. If Petra dies, there is no independence for Brigid. Ex. the changes rendered by Byleth being present or absent) 

(Though… does that mean if you don’t recruit Petra in non Black Eagles Runs Brigid becomes a vassal state of united Fodlan no matter what?)

 Moving on. 

There are some interesting culture clash that happens in the writing where assumptions have been made by the writers that don’t translate to non-Japanese audiences. I commented a couple times to my friends that I found it weird that the students you don’t teach call you “professor” or “teach”, and that it was probably evidence of the fact that the player might have changed Byleth’s name. This comment was generally accepted until my GF reminded me that the Japanese high schools work by having the teachers go around to all classes even if they’re also in charge of homeroom for a particular class. For all it’s western trappings and influences, the Officer’s Academy is very much a Japanese highschool, down to the differences in how the named students personalize their uniforms across gender lines. However, the game itself fails to get this across, as it only shows Byleth teaching their chosen house and interacting with students outside their house only on weekends. This then is also how Edelgard comes off as being very weirdly attached to Byelth when Byleth chooses one of the other houses. But if Byleth is teaching all classes and is just special homeroom teacher for one of them, then it makes more sense. 

In any case, cultural assumptions aside, the school phase and training options were one of the things that I went into the game with the most trepidation about, but after playing it’s one of the more fun aspects to plot and plan what classes I’m going to give people and how to get there. The New Game+ features are also turning into a boon for my idea of Bolt Axe Annette as a Gremory (just need to get her to Gremory… and get a Bolt Axe for her). I don’t think I would like the training aspect if they did it again in a future fire emblem game, but as a one off “here’s a feature specifically for Fire Emblem Three Houses” it works. 

I mentioned Byleth earlier, and I gotta say, of the character writing, which on the whole is fairly strong, their writing is one that sits the least well with me. My assumptions for this is that it had to do with the fact that Byleth is an avatar character, with a limited amount of customization, especially compared to Robin and Corrin, so they made up for it by writing as much of a blank slate character as possible so the player could superimpose a personality of their choosing.  It makes sense in game play, giving the plot mandated dye job, but it feels weird to have such a pivotal character who cannot express their own opinions in a meaningful way. I wish Byleth was a fully fleshed out character rather than a player stand in, and it would make the growth we are told they go through more impactful and meaningful. Potentially the writing wouldn’t need to change much, aside from Byleth being able to make definitive statements about anything without being interrupted, and letting Byleth fight for their point of view instead of it being dismissed out of hand by other characters. 

Also, can you imagine the hilarity of comedic straight man Dedue educating Comedic straight person Byleth on the basics of gardening, because as a mercenary Byleth would have never had the time? Can you imaging support conversations where you can really tackle what being raised a mercenary with no context of what the Church of Seiros is? 

And so I roll into my last point: Missed opportunities. 

For as much as I like large swaths of the writing, I feel like there’s been a lot of missed opportunities that could have been expanded on but weren’t, and so there’s a lot of what if’s that float about. As an example, I don’t particularly like Raphael, but that’s because I wish his supports did more than revolve around “Raphael eats and because he’s eating doesn’t hear what people are saying to him, and this results in friendship”. There is a lot that you can do with a big cheerful guy who’s in it to protect his sister and his friends that is more than a gimmick, and for Raphael in particular, I think it would do a lot for him to have more writing like how he got in his paralogue with Ignatz, where he can see an issue, knows there’s an issue, but decides to handle it in his own way, even if that way is one the player and his friends might disagree with so he can keep on being the big cheerful guy. 

There are more examples from that, and missed connections, and places where a Support that only goes up to B could have been strengthened with a potential A support. 

In the end, I love this game, I don’t mind replaying it over and over again, cause each time I’ve noticed something different and been able to try something new which alters my playstyle (trying to get Wyvern Master Dedue! Wish me luck in overcoming that red arrow next to flying). And I’ll likely go back to it for years to come.

[the-amazing-spider-bi]

the college au nobody asked for I leta lestrange/newt scamander I 4k I ao3

The roommate AU in which otters hold paws while they sleep, Leta didn’t think she would ever fall in love with someone who can’t even handle his coffee without milk, Credence collects crushes on all of his male teachers like they’re Pokemons, and Dumbledore finds endless amusement in his students’ antics.

Read on ao3 or under the cut!

“Hi,” Leta says. “I heard your group was still missing a member for the Sociology of Fashion project, so I was wondering if I could join you?”

The gaggle of girls in front of her startles, but when Leta smiles, they smile back. She tries to be as friendly as she can - which is difficult since she is more used to projecting a bitch resting face than acting innocent - until they end up exchanging numbers and agreeing to meet at the library on Monday to write their outline.

They go their separate ways when the other girls, who are obviously a group of friends, go see a movie, and Leta pretexts a previous engagement so they don’t have to invite her out of pity. They still wave goodbye, and Leta smiles one last time before she turns around. She tightens her grey and green scarf around her neck and walks away in a flurry of fallen leaves. She is going to get coffee, by herself, and then barricade herself in the coffee shop until she finishes her Power and Privilege essay - for a seminar, it sure involved an enormous amount of work.

Leta isn’t the type of girl people like. According to her classmates, she is posh and weird and standoffish, all of which are true. She doesn’t talk or smile or try enough to please people. She knows she could, really - she just doesn’t care to. It is alright with her, though. She would rather be alone most of the time than go back to the endless string of dinners and playdates her parents used to make her attend back when she was a girl.

So she is surprised when her phone lights up with a notification, thinking these girls are really fast to text.

Newt Dorkmander: did you know otters hold paws when they sleep?

Newt Dorkmander: actually it is to avoid drifting off of course but still

Newt Dorkmander: the thought is lovely

She tries not to smile at her phone as she types, you do know just because it’s a text doesn’t mean this won’t be deduced from your daily animal facts quota, don’t you? - she has to take off her gloves to type, and then when she comes into the shop the sting from the cold metal handle surprises her.

Newt Dorkmander: i do my best to lighten a cold november day and this is how you thank me

Newt Dorkmander: i cannot believe it

“Well someone is uncharacteristically perky today.”

She pockets her phone and does her best impression of her grandmother’s dignified stare. In front of her, Credence the coffeehouse guy is grinning in his green apron, already preparing her cup. Credence the coffeehouse guy is exactly Leta’s type of man, by which she means he is quiet, doesn’t bother her any more than he has to, and brings her coffee.

“I’m not perky,” Leta states. “Take it back.”

“Nah, it’s too late, your reputation is ruined forever,” Nagini, who is almost always to be found wherever Credence is, says from that seat in front of the counter she claimed as hers at the beginning of the year.

Leta rolls her eyes at them. “You freshmen are growing more annoying every year.”

“You’re barely one year older than us,” Nagini points out.

“College years are like dog years,” Leta informs them. “As such, I am fifteen years wiser than you.”

Credence the coffeehouse guy smiles and says, “Americano?”

“Americano,” Leta confirms, and if she refrains from making a terrible The Fault in our Starsjoke, then she will carry this secret to the grave. But still. A genuine John Green reference. She spends way too much time with Newt.

Of course, this isn’t like it’s a recent development - they have known each other since they were thirteen and Newt quite literally stumbled in her life with freckled cheeks and messy hair, then through their teens when he tiptoed around awkwardly with a lanky, ridiculously tall figure and she rushed through everything with the dedicated anger of a rebellious posh girl.

Then Newt had been expelled, and everything in her life went bonkers, but this is the part she tries not to think about.

Credence hands her her coffee and doesn’t make any more comments about who she was texting or how happy she looked, because he doesn’t make it a habit to comment on people - or talk to them - and he really is one of her favorite persons on campus.  

She spends the rest of the afternoon hunched over getting five thousands more words done, and when she leaves, Credence the coffeehouse guy has been replaced by Rita the coffeehouse girl, who she likes a lot less. She takes care to avoid eye contact and pulls out her phone, scrolling through social media feed without really reading anything until a headline catches her eye. She reopens her conversation with Newt, whose last message was an apocalyptic string of texts about being out of tea.

Leta Lestrange: you know netflix just uploaded the new planet earth season

“I know,” he says.

She looks up, startled. “What are you doing here?”

Newt is standing up in his usual blue overcoat and a faded yellow Hufflepuff scarf she gave him for Christmas when they were sixteen. (They had a price limit that time, so she had to knit him the scarf and ended up buying one anyway after a few unsuccessful hours. It’s not like he noticed anyway.) He is so outrageously tall she has to tilt her head to see his face, just so that he can avoid her gaze.

He shrugs and smiles at the ground. “I was on my way from the library, and it’s nicer to go home together.”

She frowns. “And how did you know I was there? Mister Scamander, are you stalking me? Should I check for hidden cameras? Do you keep pictures of me under your pillows?”

“Don’t be silly,” Newt says placidly. “I sleep in the next room. I can just come over to watch you sleep the normal way.”

She laughs. “Always good to know you have a lot of opinions on the best way to stalk me.”

“Well, one can never be too prepared, can they? I could always end up as a handsome brooding vampire if my zoologist plan doesn’t work out. I think I have the smoulder.”

“You certainly dress like you’re from 1910,” she says.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull off the trench coat detective aesthetic as well as I do.”

She opens her mouth to tell him he has never pulled off anything, ever, in his life, but feels a shiver crawling up the back of her spine and changes her mind. “Just a second,” she says as she whips around to glare at Rita the coffeehouse girl who watching them raptly from behind the class. She scrambles to pretend she is not.

“Being noisy is an understandable flaw, but there is nothing worse than being noisy and bad at it,” she says conversationally.

“If you’ve sufficiently scarred her, can we go now?” Newt asks. “I’m freezing.”

“Bossy,” she complains under her breath.

They walk home together.

Around them, the atmosphere is wet and chilly, and not quite snowy either, which is the worst type of weather, according to her. It feels like the cold slips into her clothes in between the threads to stick to her skin in a damp layer that feels like sweat, only much worse. She doesn’t think twice about leaning close to Newt to protect herself from it, and he doesn’t think twice about wrapping his scarf around her shoulders, still talking about the cool things he learned in Introduction to Zoology module. For the entirety of the trip home she drifts in and out of focus, sometimes picking a specific topic he brought up and asking for more details or an explanation, sometimes daydreaming when he explains some technical part of Neurology he doesn’t quite understand yet himself. By the time they get to their flat, he has moved on to complaining about his Introduction to Physiology, Pharmacology and Neuroscience course, by which he is clearly bored to tears and that he still wants to attend anyway. She doesn’t press him about it but she is pretty sure his scholarship involves perfect attendance.

They walk up three sets of stairs - the place is right outside campus in this tiny brick building, rent as cheap as any flat with three rooms can be, which means no elevators, to Leta’s great despair. Without having to ask she gets in front of him to open the door herself, because Newt always loses his keys inside the holes in his ancient coat pockets, so it is just faster this way.

Immediately as she opens the door a dash of brown fur bounces into the hallway, climbs the sleeve of Newt’s coat, settles his shoulder where its nibbles at his ears.

“Hello you,” she hears Newt coo at Pickett. She rolls her eyes good-naturedly as she goes to take off her coat inside. There is a hot shower she has been dreaming of ever since she woke up this morning waiting for her, and then undercooked pasta in front of an animal documentary.

Whoever said college students weren’t living the dream?

When she wakes up the next morning, Newt is hunched over on their couch, copper hair messed up beyond repair, eyes half closed. She takes in the sight of his plaid pajamas and the squirrel burrowed in his hair, because he keeps spoiling Pickett then being surprised when he doesn’t want to join his siblings in the great wild outdoors, the moron. He looks utterly miserable.

He started up the coffee maker, though, so she can work with this.

“We’re buying tea this afternoon,” she says, before adding, more gently: “Hey, do you want me to do that hot chocolatey coffee you like to survive your morning classes?”

“Yes, please,” Newt says in a tiny voice.

She presses her hand against his shoulder as she goes behind the counter to make him a mocha and make herself an entire Thermos of black coffee. He gets dressed while she pours them their drinks, by which she means puts on the first wool sweater he found and jeans. She does the same while he sips his cup and checks on all his rescued animals of the moment - Niffler the magpie with the broken wing who keeps escaping his hen coop to steal their shiny cutlery or her silver earrings, Pickett who resolutely doesn’t want to leave, and an enormous Maine coon Newt insists on calling Zouwu despite how ridiculous it sounds. When she leaves in a hurry of perfume and long trench coat with her Thermos in hand, Newt looks considerably perkier.

A few hours later, she is considering the pros and cons of the infamous Veggie Salad versus Caesarean Salad case. Since Newt’s class finishes in one hour when her afternoon ones begin, and, well, she doesn’t really have any other friend nor a lunch break long enough to go home, she is planning to get some food from the cafeteria before she goes to her classroom and eats in front of her book. It sounds sad, but it’s actually a very good book, Jane Austen’s Emma, which she had somehow never read before, her high school curriculum consisting only of Pride and Prejudice again and again and again. She is usually more of a gothic, Byronic hero kind of gal, with a bit of sci-fi thrown in when Newt recommends one of his nerdy books to her, but well, it’s Jane Austen.

She looks forward to that lunch alone watching Emma and Mr. Knightly fall in love. The universe doesn’t care about that.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Nagini says behind her.

She turns around slowly. The younger girl isn’t quite smiling, as she rarely ever does, but she looks as friendly as she can be with eyes surrounded by eyeliner and black lipstick, black clothes, black boots, black eye, black everything.

“Freshmen have lunch breaks now? Back in my time-” Leta starts teasing.

“You ate on the floor some gruel right out of the bowl before your Latin class started?” Nagini guesses.

Leta chuckles. “Close enough.”

“Wanna sit with us, or will it ruin your street cred?” Nagini asks, eyes shining with curiosity, or maybe just hunger.

Leta shrugs and pays for her salad at the counter. “If you promise never to use the words street cred ever again, sure.”

At Nagini’s left, Credence smiles shyly. She has never seen him out of his coffee shop uniform, and he is definitely not what she imagined, with a tiny silver cross hanging from a chain on his neck, a rainbow lapel pin on his jean jacket and an undercut.  They move from the cafeteria’s blinding artificial lights to the tables outside - they are already in winter and it is cold out, but Leta is used to avoiding loud, busy rooms, what with Newt’s condition, so it doesn’t bother her all that much. As for the two kids, tables are almost empty by this time of the year, so it doesn’t take a genius to get what their appeal can represent.

Nagini kicks up her feet on the table and leans sideways on Credence’s side while Leta has a wooden bench all to herself.

“So, about your ruined reputation,” Nagini starts. “What was up with you yesterday?”

“Did you see Professor Grindelwald falling down in the street?” Credence asks and takes a tiny bite of his apple.

“I wish,” Leta says, because if there is one thing that unites Nagini and her it is their mutual hatred for Grindelwald. He still teaches one of her classes today and she had him twice last year, once in her Introduction to Political Science class and another time in an Advanced Rhetorics option she picked up and gave up on soon afterward. The university is divided into two camps, really. There are those who think Grindelwald is like a white-haired, mole-rat-looking reincarnation of Jesus Christ or Martin Luther King or whoever teens idolize these days. Then there are people with common sense who see him for what he is, like Leta.

“The other day he took Credence’s phone in class and when he gave it back he changed his lock screen to a picture of him,” Nagini recalls. “Not even a funny picture, just this close up on his face, staring at the camera, Big Brother style. Credence still hasn’t changed it either.”

“What do you want?” Credence says with a self-aware smile. “I have terrible taste in men and daddy issues.”

“Gross,” Nagini whines.

“That’s not the problem,” Leta says. “The problem is out of all the silver fox material in this college - we have Dumbledore and Graves teaching - you went ahead and got a crush on him.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t also have a crush on Dumbledore and Graves,” Credence says.

They laugh about it. Before an awkward pause can settle, Leta says, picking at her plate with suspicion, “Anyway, no, my roommate just sent me something funny.”

“What was it?”

Leta knows about retelling past jokes and that only waste, you just really had to be there, you know? and fake laughs this way come, so she says, allusively, “Just a fun fact about otters. He’s really into animals. He’s a bit of a dork about it, eats vegan, picks up every stray cat that crosses his path, the whole deal. Zoology students and all that.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Nagini says. “This school has one of the best programmes in the country, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s why we chose to come here,” Leta shrugs off, scrunching her nose at her salad, poking it around. It even smells weird. “This is way more disgusting than I remember it to be, isn’t it?”

There’s a silence. When she looks up, the two freaky twins are both raising their eyebrows the exact same way. It’s uncanny.

“That’s nice,” Credence drawls out.

“That my salad tastes like rotten grass?” Leta asks, raising an eyebrow as she grins at him.

“No, though it always tastes like cold garbage, so you only have yourself to blame,” Credence says. “You chose your college depending on your friend?”

Leta is uncomfortable. “He was - is my best friend. We met in boarding school when we were kids, with all the rich posh kids running around. It was hell, so, that makes friendship very intense.” They still look at her weirdly, and she is good with words, but even she doesn’t know how to convey the harshness of boarding schools when you are a bit different, a bit weird , so she adds: “Anyway, he was expelled in the middle of high school, and it was even worse without him here, so we decided we would stick together through college at least.”

She doesn’t talk about being the only black girl in her year, or Newt being diagnosed at thirteen, or how cruel children can be. Sometimes when she thought about it too long she felt so angry, almost as angry as she used to be in these years where she would talk back to the other kids when they mocked her and end up in detentions more weekends than not. She is quieter now, almost free of all of that teenage angst, better, but sometimes she feels like she is only pretending to be tamed, to be something she is not, like Pickett the domesticated squirrel.

“That’s actually very cool,” Credence says. “I can’t imagine living with my old middle school friends. Well, I didn’t have friends in middle school, probably because they were scared by my raw coolness, but even if I did, I guess I just changed a lot since then.”

“I don’t know. I never really thought about that,” Leta surprises herself by saying.

In the end, they move on from the subject to discuss Credence’s thing for every forty-something male teacher he meets, the revelations about a Moscow Trump tower, and salad that tastes like cardboard. When she gets to class, though, she keeps thinking over and over about growing up. She has always prided herself on being more perceptive than others - not even considering that Newt might be a different person as an adult than as a freckled thirteen-year-old is blindsiding her in a way she doesn’t care for.

She tries to forget about it and focuses on getting her degree.

But the thought planted by Credence sticks in the back of her mind, feeling so very foreign to her. It is relentless and invading and points its ugly, alien head at the most inappropriate moments throughout the week, and she can’t help but wonder.

She is the one who picks her roommate up at the end of his classes on Fridays, waiting with a coffee in hand for her and a chai for him. It is part of their routine. She watches the first wave of bouncing, impatient Bio students leave the building, then a second one, even bigger and noisier somehow, until Newt emerges from the lot and walks towards her. For the first time since they were fifteen, she appraises him. He looks like, well, Newt. So ridiculously tall he has to hunch over a little to pass doorsteps, shy smile, hands in his pockets. Then her gaze stays on him just a second too long, and he has the same wiry, messy-haired, freckled figure than when he was a kid, but maybe it looks less lanky now, somewhat. He doesn’t stare at the ground quite as much when he is out, his eyes darting from one point to the other in wonder, and suddenly she wishes she could know about the patterns he sees when he stares at the world like that.  

She still smiles in the same way she always does when she offers him his cup and his fingers brush against her gloved hand.

“Thank you so much,” he says, smiling. “Not to be dramatic, but I think if I have to listen to one more Neurology class, I might gouge out my own brain.”

“Lovely,” she comments. “You talk to Professor Dumbledore with that mouth?”

“Indeed, Mister Scamander,” an older man butts in with an amused expression and sparkling eyes behind half-moon glasses. “If you feel that strongly about my classes, I am always pleased to hear my students’ feedback during office hours.”

He trips over his own feet and stammers his excuses as Albus Dumbledore laughs at him in polite silences, and Leta tries not to be too amused by his misfortunes. If warmth oozes in her stomach, it must be either laughter or the hot coffee she is gulping down. It burns her tongue and her throat and keeps her hands busy not fixing Newt’s half-bent collar.

Newt is still talking with his hands to Dumbledore about his Zoology project when they leave campus. She has never had him in class, and never will, but even if she had never met him before, she would like him for the encouraging way he smiles as Newt talks to him about slugs’ brains or whatever he is explaining right now. Despite teaching one of Newt’s least liked courses - too many human examples, not enough slugs - he is still by far his favourite professor. It is enough for her.

Dumbledore goes home on a scooter, of all things, a Vespa, and Newt doesn’t get how funny it is when she tries to explain.

“I’m sure it’s very practical,” he tells her as they climb up the stairs.

“This is clearly not my point,” Leta says. “You’re just willfully blind because you have a crush on him.”

“What? I-I do not. He’s my teacher .”

Leta raises her eyebrows. Oh, really now. “And?”

“This is- wrong, and ridiculous, is what it is, and I will not talk to you about it any further.”

She stays silent as she opens the door. He gets even more flustered. His entire face is blushing all over, his skin like a sunset from his neck to the tip of his ears, and he fidgets with his sleeves, and it is sort of adorable, really.

“I don’t have a crush on Dumbledore!” he says, too loudly.

Then they go in and Niffler has gotten loose somehow and all of their spoons are in his cage, so he has reasons to get busy, but as soon as they’re sitting on their old couch again with a cup of hot cocoa, she raises her eyebrows again and he almost throws his cup at her. She breaks out laughing.

When she opens her eyes again, he is looking pointedly at his computer screen. This is when it happens. She can only witness in horror Newt’s profile rearrange itself in her head, move away from chubby cheeks and bitten lips, and this is when, as if she has never seen him before, she realizes he is handsome.

In some abstract way, she knew this before. She had noticed defined cheekbones, jawline, eyes with ever-changing colors, pushed him towards a girl or a boy or anyone and told him to just try his luck. It was only theoretical, though. It is like - she knows gravity exists, knows Earth rotates around the sun drawn by its sheer weight, but she also doesn’t know it, doesn’t understand it or feel the push of the sun’s attraction. This is like being in the reach of a supernova.

“Why are you still looking at me,” Newt complains, frowning at his screen.

Shit.

“No reason,” she says, not averting her eyes.

“Alright, so maybe I have a tiny crush on him. Just a smidge. It’s just- I- he’s so nice,” Newt says, turning around to look at her with wide, earnest eyes that look green today. “And a role model. Sort of.”

This is not the crush she is worried about.

[rainbow-hatted1]

What Boredom looks like

1. You just opened up a web browser. What is the first site you visit?

https://www.reddit.com/r/interestingasfuck/

Yeah, that’s sort of my jam. Reddit in general but that is my go to.

vv more below if you wanna deep dive. vv

2. You just walked into a bookstore. What section do you go to first?

The local published section. If it’s a good bookshop they usually have one. Usually it’s poetry, or short essay compilations or local history books but I tend to like the offerings and you’re supporting people who don’t have a big platform yet.

Otherwise, comics and fantasy are my next first stops.

3. You are hanging with your closest friends. What are you most likely doing?

Lately, not much of anything. Arguing… not talking… depressing things.

Ideally, though, there’s a good meal. Either we’ve cobbled it together on our own or it’s a decent take out option and video/board games. Quidditch if it’s a nice day. Basically, where we can sit and bullshit and laugh a lot. That’s the best time with my mates.

4. You just turned your car on. What station is the radio tuned to?

The independent/alt/rock station. In spite making pop music myself I don’t listen to it a lot. Which is probably weird.

5. You have just woken up for the morning. What is the first things you do?

Try to go back to sleep.

6. Complete this phrase: You cannot buy happiness, but you can buy____.

Tacos

7. What would you do if you woke up as the opposite gender?

Probably touch my boobs entirely too much. Liz calls them boob checks… well, if they’re quick and random, this would probably be fondling.  I am ashamed of this answer but it’s likely what I’d do.

8. Are you more likely to cook for yourself or buy food from a restaurant?

I’m prone to laziness but I actually find cooking relaxing so cook for myself. Saves money too. It’s just a good practice to have in general.

9. If you had to lose one of your senses, which one would you rather lose?

Smell, probably. I enjoy food too much to lose taste. And between sight and hearing, I’d miss not having those senses and touch is just kind of important as a human being.  

10. If you could relive any one year of your life, how old would you be?

Dunno

11. Would you take a bullet for anyone you know?

A few someones

12. Would you rather be rich and dumb or poor and extremely intelligent?

Poor and intelligent. Better chances of bettering my situation with that one.

13. What TV character do you most relate to?

Sam Gardner from Atypical.

14. You just walked into a supermarket. What section do you first go to?

Produce. Yeah, you all thought I’d go for the bakery and desserts. Don’t lie.

15. Is sex before marriage wrong?

No. It’s human. So is waiting. It shouldn’t be as polarizing as it is. Sex is part of life and how you want to experience it is entirely up to you.

16. You just won the lottery. What is the first thing you do with your winnings?

Get a lawyer and not tell anyone I won. People get shitty when you have a lot of money. They expect you to make it rain and I wouldn’t. I’d also take the weekly installments. More money overall and you are far less likely to tank yourself with the winnings. Just saying.

17. If your best friend admitted that they have a crush on you, how would you react?

I would be awkward as fuck. Love him, not like that and he has a girlfriend so yeah… it’d be fucked up.

18. Will the USA ever have a female president?

At this point in time: no. Again, this is a polarizing question that shouldn’t be. A woman could run the country I’m not women in charge by that answer. Don’t read into it. I’m merely saying, that with the way the country appears to be currently they will not vote for that. I’m sorry. It’s stupid.

19. You are carpooling with your friends. Are you more likely to be the driver or a passenger?

Passenger. I don’t drive.

20. How short is too short for skirts and dresses?

I’m not ancient or wearing a skirt so I don’t think it matters, but I tend to prefer more modest options on girls.

21. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, without any consequences, what food would you choose?

Pizza.

22. It’s Saturday night. What are you most likely doing?

Sleeping.

23. You go on a blind date. Your date is extremely beautiful and physically captivating, but you hate their personality. Would you want a second date?

No.

24. How strict should gun laws be?

I think Australia had the right reaction to a massacre

25. Would you rather be the worst player on the best team or the best player on the worst team?

Best player on the worst team. Hopefully, they wouldn’t resent me and we could have a good 90’s style underdog story.

26. How well do you work with others?

Not well.

27. You have the ability to cure only one fatal disease and eradicate it forever. What disease do you choose?

I don’t want that power. Either way people are gonna die and wonder why I couldn’t cure all cancer or something else that’s just as bad…and inevitably another disease will surface that’s worse. There will always be disease even if we don’t like it.

28. If you could go back to college and choose a different degree to study, would you?

Well, considering I’m not in college yet I can still change my mind on that one, but I probably wouldn’t. Care of Magical Creatures but I haven’t zoned in on the specific avenue I want to go in that field yet.

29. Where do you see yourself ten years from now?

Er… traveling the countryside looking for magical creatures and documenting them in the wild. It’d be cool if my friends joined once in a while.

30. Are you pro-life or pro-choice?

Pro-choice isn’t anti-life, for fucks sake people.

31. Would you attend a same sex wedding if invited?

Yeah. If my mates fell in love and get married, I’m gonna be at the party regardless of sexes involved.

32. So far, what has been the greatest day of your life?

The first time HM played to a sold out crowd. That was pretty shocking. We’ve done it since and Nik has carried on doing it on his own but that day was scary and humbling and epic.

33. Has anyone you know ever been arrested?

Yeah, wrongly so but they saw what they wanted and went that’s our guy. Luckily, he didn’t get sent away for good.

34. If it could be one season year-round, what season do would you want it to be?

Fall. But like warm fall not close to winter fall. That fall sucks.

35. What is your biggest regret in life?

Saying such shit things about Anna and Charlie’s mum because I was mad at him. We’ve never recovered from it and it was a stupid in the moment blind rage bullshit thing I can’t ever take back.

36. If you could bring one celebrity back from the dead, who would it be?

John Lennon, probably. But the thing is, not everyone is upset their deaths were untimely. That’s more the livings problem than the dead, I’ve come to learn.

37. What offends you the most?

When people assume how I’m feeling. I’m not exactly easy to read, I know that, and I have a hard time wrapping my own head around my thoughts and feelings. So when I am feeling something and someone says I’m feeling another way because my face doesn’t wash with an emotion or my reaction doesn’t match like it allegedly should it’s really upsetting to me and just makes things worse.

38. Would you rather have an ugly hairstyle or be bald?

Do what you want. It’s just hair

39. At what age did you have your first alcoholic beverage?

16. Yeah, I think that’s right.

40. What do you think happens to us when we die?

Ideally, you move on to another plane. Kind of like a multiverse but one for endings. For a bit you can linger between the here as we know it and there but eventually you either stay and become a ghost or a poltergeist (which depends solely on your continued mental state on the matter of your death) but most move on beyond the veil.

41. What do you think is the best way to quit smoking?

I don’t know.

42. If you could take home any one animal from the zoo, which animal would you choose?

A bear of some sort. Polar, Grizzly, Black…. Whatever they’ve got. Not all zoos have the same bears.

43. Were humans created or did we evolve from earlier species?

I’m gonna go out and say something that pisses people off but I don’t see why it can’t be both. Something came out of nothing which is creating, right? The act of creating something is taking elements and making them something or straight up creating an element. What did that, I don’t know. But at one point there was a creation moment. From there everything on this planet has changed and adapted to the situations and surroundings they came into. Life is change, you don’t change you can’t survive. So both. Both sound right to me.

44. What scares you the most?

Losing everyone I care about… and bugs. Fuck bugs

45. What personality trait turns you off the most?

I hate when people play dumb.

46. You got offered a job to do something you hate, but the pay will make you rich. Do you take it?

No.

47. If today you only had what you were thankful for yesterday, how much would you have?

Sadly, not very much probably.

48. How often do you get mad or upset at yourself?

Everyday.

49. If you could choose one celebrity to be your parent, who would you choose?

I’ll keep my parents, thanks but to answer the question: Reign. At least I’d still have family.

50. If you could only listen to one musical artist for the rest of you life, who would you be listening to?

I would probably choose not to listen to music after a bit. I like variety and I’m not always in the mood for an artist of one flavor but the Beatles? At least their breadth of music is pretty wide.

51. Have you ever used you cell phone while driving?

No

52. Has anyone you were close to die way too young?

Yes.

53. Is world peace possible?

No, I don’t believe it is. It’d be great if it could be. There’s no reason for all this hate but people are always going to clash. We get on for a bit and then boom, it’s done. Peace is an impossibility but we should still strive for it regardless.

54. You go on a blind date. You date is extremely ugly and physically appalling, but you are madly in love with their personality. Would you want a second date?

I don’t know. I want to say yes, be that guy who doesn’t care. Looks really are not everything but ultimately, you should be attracted to your partner. If you aren’t it isn’t likely to work even if their personality is the most beautiful thing in the world.

55. How did you discover that Santa Claus isn’t real?

My little brother told me and I was devastated.

56. Do you believe in God, or some form of higher deity?

I honestly want to but I have a hard time wrapping my mind around how things can be the way they are if a loving god is out there watching us. I think the Futurama episode where Bender gets life on his ass is a great example of how my brain wants to look at it.

And then I read the Bible and get to stories like Zechariah and I’m just left thinking that guy probably had a stroke while praying and the rest is a coincidence.

57. If you could save someone you deeply cared about, but it meant breaking a law, would you do it?

Fuck yes. Without hesitation

58. What is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done for money?

Sold my soul for a sickle once.

59. If you were to make a YouTube video about what you know most about, what would the subject be?

Magical Creatures. I could go on for a very long time about that topic.

60. What do you think is your greatest personality flaw?

I’m rigid. I have a hard time shifting directions when I get going.

61. If your friends spoke to you the way you speak to yourself, would you still want them as friend?

I haven’t got many actual friends so maybe. Better than being alone, I suppose.

62. Have you ever “woke up like this”?

No one has ever “woke up like this”. It’s a lie. It’s always a lie. Even if they look good, that caption shows intent and planning: don’t fall for it.

63. You got offered a job to do something you love, but the pay is one of the worst out there. Do you take it?

If I really fucking love it, yes. But I’m also in a position where I can have a shit paying or no paying job and basically be fine.

64. What do you think is your best physical feature?

My lips?

65. What do you think is your worst physical feature.

My nose is big.

66. Do you know anyone who has committed suicide?

Not suicide no. But I know people who have considered it. Glad they didn’t follow through.

67. What is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for someone you don’t know?

I dunno. I have a habit of giving my bus ticket away if it still has time on it. I know it’s not much but as for random acts of kindness that weren’t really put on display for charities or a fluff news story, that’s the one I’ve got.

68. Have you ever had a night’s dream come true?

No, can’t say that I have.

69. Would you reject a date offer from someone you didn’t like?

yes

70. Which do you think is worse: Failure, or never trying at all?

This is one of those what I say is not really what I do things. I think the second is worse but I often freeze when it comes to choices like this. When I’m by myself: I freeze.

[cinnaminsvga]

La Douleur Exquise Pt 1 | Incubus!Yoongi AU

➵ summary: in which you accidentally summon an incubus in the middle of your shitty apartment and he won’t leave until you agree to have sex with him. until then, min yoongi, incubus extraordinaire, is now your sexually promiscuous and grumpy roommate. aka, the incubus au no one fucking asked for. ➵ warnings: demon summonings, lots of swearing, and a grumpy min yoongi (what’s new?) ➵ genre: fluff, angst, humor, eventual smut (none in this chapter!) ➵ words: 6.2K ➵ a/n: the preview got such good responses that I had to finish this right away! hope it stands up to your expectations! enjoy! 

➵ part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7

In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea trying to recreate an ancient demon-summoning circle in the middle of your living room. If anyone asked you what had possessed you to do so regardless, you’d point fingers at your history professor for assigning the task in the first place. Although, you might concede that he didn’t technically ask you to assemble the summoning circle; all you were assigned to do was do some research about ancient summoning techniques with five to ten sources maximum. The problem with the assignment lied with the latter part of the requirements: the motherfucking references.

No matter how hard you tried to search for reliable photographs of professionally reenacted summoning circles, none of significant quality had popped up anywhere. You were seriously starting to consider attaching some DeviantArt fanart by the time you had reached page 67 on the Google search page.

In short, you were desperate—and desperation meant that you didn’t really think things through.

Your search was leading you nowhere, so you decided begrudgingly that you were going to have to make this work yourself. You had gathered enough information from some moldy books from the library on how the summoning circle was supposed to look like, so authentic instructions were not a problem. The more pressing problem, however, were the materials needed.

“What the fuck does ‘something precious and indispensible’ mean anyway?” You grumbled to yourself in exasperation. You had been arranging the faux summoning circle for what seemed like hours, chucking large amount of salt across your carpeted living room floor into a barely recognizable circle. You wondered tiredly if you should care that the circle looked fake as fuck, but you decided that you’d just print the pictures in black and white so that your professor would be none the wiser.

Currently, you were still trying to understand what “something precious and indispensible” could possibly be suggesting. Did they mean gold, diamonds, or other precious gems? Or could they mean valuable in the sentimental way? You weren’t really sure, but at that point you honestly couldn’t care. It was a Friday night, and instead of sleeping, you were trying to summon a demon—or at least theoretically. Sadly, you had been procrastinating too much on the assignment, and the essay was already due in two hours—you still had about four pages to go.

You groaned in frustration, looking around your measly apartment for inspiration. Unluckily, you were the definition of a broke college student, so nothing remotely extraordinary in value could be found in your home (unless you counted the two month old cake in the fridge—that was extraordinary but for the wrong reasons). You supposed in terms of sentimentality, you had a few mementos from your childhood that you liked to keep around. You had a photo album filled with childhood photos, an old vase that you had made in craft school with your mom when you were a kid, and some musty books that you had collected over the years. You also had a pair of white sneakers that you had bought with your first paycheck; the shoes were so old and worn that the sole wasn’t even connected to the shoe anymore. You weren’t really sure which one of them could pass as “precious” until you realized that you had an easy solution: you’ll just bullshit your way through this paper (as you do).

In your defense, this summoning circle wasn’t supposed to be authentic anyway; it wasn’t like you were really aiming to summon a demon. You could just explain to your professor that you had recreated the circle yourself for the sake of immersion, and you were sure that with your acting skills, he’d be swooning over your “commitment.” Better yet, you’ll “sacrifice” your shoes in the picture, and you’d explain how you believed the shoes represented how the greatest sacrifice came in the shape of losing things that you worked the hardest for.

You grinned to yourself, mentally patting yourself on the back. You supposed this is what you get for going to Sunday school every week when you were a kid—you were great at making up shit on the go.

“Alright, goodbye Converse shoes, I’ll miss ya.” You muttered jokingly to yourself, placing the worn shoes in the middle of your crude circle. You stood up from the floor, dusting the stray salt crystals from your faded jeans and admiring your work. Despite the obvious sloppy nature of your efforts, you were surprised that it actually looked mildly decent. Not enough to be photographed and put in a history book, but good enough for a C. Maybe even a B.

You were just about to reach over the salt circle and grab your phone to take the photos when your eyes happen to glance down to your still open laptop. You had already written the descriptions of the more common rituals, and you had copied the incantations of the most popular demon-summoning techniques. You had scoffed when you had read the unintelligible gibberish, hardly believing that the ancient people of this earth had thought that these words would somehow summon a demon of the most epic proportions. One of your favorite incantations had to be the one for the incubi/succubi, because the words were so horribly silly that you had to reread them a few times just so you could copy them properly through your laughter.

Instead of getting your phone, you decided to grab your laptop from the coffee table. As you reread your work, you cannot help the snort that escapes you when a stupid idea suddenly popped into your mind. You mused; it wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Trying to say the gibberish? Just for kicks?

Of course it wouldn’t hurt. This was all fun and games, anyway. You needed the break, so you supposed you could spare a few minutes goofing around, pretending you were a witch from ye olden times.

That’s it, you decided. You were going to summon a demon today, and you knew exactly which incantation you were going to use.

“Oh my god, this is literally the stupidest shit ever,” you laughed giddily, already standing up near the edge of your salt circle. You balanced your laptop on one hand, with your other one scrolling haphazardly for the correct chant.

Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself with as much sincerity as you could gather (which meant you were giggling the entire time, but the details weren’t important right now). You raised your hand as if in blessing, and recited the following words:

“Heu! Opus est aliquo modo de iure

Veneris voluntati parere.

Daemones autem fuere satiare

potuisti mihi cornea inde necessario

vult dimittere multum commendatur.

Et ecce ego do coram vobis daemones

in hoc ipso quovis nomine appellamus,

quod est equivalent motus ad officia

accipere volo a vobis.

“Now, come forth demon!” You finished the ridiculous incantation in English, your mouth tired from trying to enunciate the weird Latin words.

For a second or two, you watched in mild anticipation for something to happen. Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you had actually wondered if what you were doing was legitimate or not.

You stood there for another moment before realizing how stupid you must have looked. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Did you honestly think something, or someone would pop out from the demon dimension? How fucking silly was that—

Wait. Why were your shoes sinking into the floor?

You had to do a double take at first to see if your eyes were deceiving you. Because right in front of your very eyes, your shoes were seemingly disappearing in the middle of your salt circle, right through your carpeted floor.

You tried grabbing onto it, but the force pulling it down was stronger than the speed it was moving at might have suggested. You watched as it sunk lower and lower until only the star logo of your sneakers could be seen, and until it all but disappeared into the nether.

You stood there in silence, not really processing the information that was being fed into your retinas.

Well. You definitely had not expected that to happen.

As it just so happened, the higher beings of this damned universe didn’t allow you to have more time to process what the fuck was going on, because right after your shoes vanished, the salt circle began to smoke and glow. The smoke alarms installed in your apartment started ringing obsessively, as if you weren’t already aware that your whole damn living room was starting to look like the 7th ring of hell.

You knew that you were supposed to do something, like, maybe grab the fire extinguisher located conveniently near the doorway. You really really should be doing something, and it was only now that you realized that your driving instructor was right all those years ago: you really did have the reaction speed of a 70-year old grandmother.

The smoke was gradually rising higher and higher, and while you had expected to choke on the thick fumes, the smoke actually smelled... pleasant? Like your favorite scents: the saltwater of the beaches near your childhood home, freshly laundered clothes, the cologne of your ex—

Woah there, partner. There’s now a goddamn pale arm extending out of the middle of your carpeted floor. You should probably be panicking right now.

Just like how delayed your reaction speed was, your panic speed was just as slow. In no time at all, the pale arm was joined with another equally pasty white arm, with both of them grasping the floor to help pull up what you assumed was the owner’s body.

Just as you finished that thought, aforementioned owner’s head was the next thing to pop up from the gaping hole that was now your living room floor.

And it was a dude. A pretty good-looking dude, but you digress.

Oh look, the head was talking now.

“Ow, what the fuck? Why is the summoning circle so small? I can barely fit through,” the head growled, shaking the remaining salt crystals off his messy mop of black hair. He stood there for a moment longer when his hooded eyes finally met yours. You were locked in silent conversation for a while, a feeling of unconcealed tension rising in the atmosphere. You felt the way he was sizing you up, and you could not help but notice the way his eyes trailed your body with some interest. Yikes, awkward?

So now, you had a strange, pale man checking you out whilst he had half his body stuck in the middle of your apartment floor, seemingly having risen from the very depths of hell you had summoned him from, all whilst your smoke alarm was still blaring noisily around you.

Thankfully, the smoke had since cleared when you finally managed to snap yourself out of your stupor long enough to run over to the smoke detector’s power switch, turning it off as quickly as possible.

The silence that ensued after the alarm was turned off, coupled with the palpable tension, sent shivers of discomfort through your body. Turning slowly around to face your unwelcome intruder, you instantly made eye contact with him.

Most heroines from the dramas you frequently watched might have screamed, run away, or even shot the stranger in the head with a gun they were conveniently holding onto. But you, on the other hand—

“OW! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? WHY ARE YOU HITTING MY HEAD WITH A FUCKING BROOM?” The strange man in the middle of your floor yelled indignantly, and in the back of your mind, you couldn’t really blame the dude. You supposed that it wasn’t fun being stuck in a small hole in a middle of shitty apartment, whilst being hit with a broom. It didn’t stop you from continuing, though.

“WOMAN! WILL YOU STOP WITH THE BROOM ALREADY? HELP ME OUT!” He screamed, but you hit him one last time for good measure. It seemed like he wasn’t going back where he came from, so the best way to get rid of him was to probably pull him out and then kick him out.

“No offence or anything, but who the fuck are you and why is your head popping out of the middle of my floor?” You asked.

He gave you a look of mild displeasure, with his nose upturned in that snooty way that read ‘are you fucking stupid or something?’

“Are you fucking stupid or something?” He verbalized, after realizing that the confused look on your face was genuine and not some act of faux ignorance.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “Oh great. Another one of those fucking skeptics. You know, if you really wanted to prove that ancient demons didn’t exist, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, not summoning demons? Because honestly, I’m sick and tired of being called out of my home and having some weird skeptic prod at me and call me fake when I could easily be sleeping with someone right now—“

“Hold up,” you raised your hand to ask him to stop, and you were half-surprised to find that he actually did as you asked. He raised his brow in question, prompting you to most probably explain yourself.

“So, what you’re saying is...”

“That I’m a demon? Pretty much,” he concluded, picking at his cuticles disinterestedly. Looking at him closely, you had to admit that the whole rising from the gaping hole in your apartment was surely proof enough. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the purple horns protruding from his head was probably another good indicator that he wasn’t kidding.

Either that, or he was just some weird, over enthused cosplayer.

“Alright.” You said.

“That fucking figures that you wouldn’t believe me. All of you are the same! What is up with you stupid humans and your tiny brains unable to connect the dots despite having numerous evidence—wait.” He paused in his monologue, belatedly realizing what you had actually said. “You said ok? That’s it? You’re actually believing me just like that?” He spluttered, looking up from his nails long enough to shoot you a disbelieving look. You only shrugged callously.

“Well, I was recreating a demon summoning ritual, so your story lines up well. Even if you weren’t an actual demon, aren’t there those people who believe that they’re actual werewolves or Goku or something? Like that dude on Youtube who thought he could go Super Saiyan?”

“What the actual fuck? Are you actual comparing me to a fucking weeaboo?”

You shrugged yet again. “Well, you do kinda look like Sasuke...”

He pointed a finger at you threateningly. “Take that back. If anything, I’d be Naruto.”

You snorted. “Weeaboo,” you muttered under your breath. Wait. Why were you having a conversation with a demon in your apartment as if he were a greasy college kid who watched too much hentai?

You voiced your question out loud, and the demon did not seem pleased by your analogy.

“We are having this conversation because you fucking summoned me here. Now let me do my job and I can go on my merry way, thank you very much. But first,” he added, pointing exasperatedly at his still half-submerged body, “will you help me out of here first?”

You ignored his request. “Wait, you have a job to do?” You inquired.

At your question, the grin on his face reminiscent of the Cheshire cat probably should have warned you of the hell that was to come, but by then, everything was already too late. You were fucking screwed.

“Oh silly human, don’t you know? You summoned your very own sex demon, and I’m here to please you as you wish.”

In hindsight, you wondered how the demon had expected you to react: cry and scream from terror, call the nearest exorcist in fear, maybe cream your pants from a sudden influx of sexual arousal?

If anything, he probably didn’t expect you to laugh at him, much less make fun of him.

“Oh my—what—the—fuck??” You gasped out in laughter, doubling over from the sheer strength of your amusement. The smoldering look on the demon’s face instantly dissipated and was replaced with pure confusion, his eyebrow raised in bafflement.

“What? What’s so funny?” He demanded angrily, pouting at your giggling.

“You—you expect me? To have s-sex with you? A literal fucking demon from hell?” You managed to say through your mirthful tears, after which you run over quickly to your kitchen to grab a glass of water to help you stop choking on your spit.

From the kitchen, you heard the demon let out a chuckle. “Oh, I get it now. Is your laughter a defense mechanism? Understandable. You’re not the first one to be at a loss of words after meeting such a delectable creature such as I.”

Oh my shit. Was this demon even fucking hearing himself speak right now?

Before returning to the living room where the demon was still stuck in the floor, you refilled your glass to the brim. Without any shred of remorse whatsoever, you walked over to the demon and promptly—

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU? DIDN’T YOUR PARENTS TEACH YOU THAT ASSAULT IS AGAINST THE LAW?” The now drenched demon spat at you, his teeth snapping at you like a dog.

He looked so pathetic at that moment, with his body stuck save for his arms and head, whilst dripping with water, that the giggles came back in full force.

“Oh my fucking GOD you are just ridiculous, you know that?” You chuckled, placing the glass on the coffee table and plopping your ass on the floor. You made sure to stay clear from the demon, lest he try to grab you and do something you wouldn’t like (i.e., touch you with his creepy long fingers).

You watched amusedly as the demon gave you an exasperated stare, the effect only heightened by his ‘angry-drenched-kitten’ face he was currently pointing at you. After a few more minutes of the demon angrily breathing at you, you said, “You know, you aren’t that handsome.” The grin on your face widened exponentially as his eyes squinted in anger.

“What?”

“You said my laughter was a defense mechanism because I couldn’t, what did you say? Handle your handsomeness?” You snorted.

He raised his brow. “And you’re saying it isn’t?”

“Yup. In fact, I wouldn’t have sex with you at all, even if we were the last two sentient beings in the world and we were tasked with the heavy responsibility to procreate to replenish the earth’s population.” Wait, was demon on human procreation even possible? Stash that under ‘musings you shouldn’t waste time thinking about’ for later.

The shock on his face was probably more arousing to you than the thought of having any type of intercourse with him. “What the fuck? Why the fuck not?” He stammered articulately.

You held up two fingers. “Two words: demon STDs.”

“For your information, I do not have any STDs! We incubi pride ourselves in safe and clean sex—HEY PUT THAT GLASS DOWN THIS INSTANT!” He growled, the fire in his eyes indicating that he was probably murdering you in his mind.

The sarcastic smirk on your face probably only worsened the demon’s mood by a fuck ton. “Honey, I’m just going to put the glass back in the kitchen. Don’t you worry your tiny little demon butt.”

“Excuse you! I will have you know that my ass is above average, thank you very much! You would know, if you would—I don’t know—help me out of this FUCKING HOLE IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR LIVING ROOM?” He screeched.

Oh right. You kept forgetting he was stuck there and not actually having the time of his life.

“Maybe that’s the reason why you’re stuck; your ass is too big that you can’t get out.” You snickered, but you eventually acquiesced to his request. You don’t do this out of the goodness of your heart, however. The poor sap looked like he was going to bust a lung out of anger, and you didn’t really feel like cleaning up blood on your carpet again.

(For reference, the blood was from a science project you had to do before. You have not killed a man on your carpeted floor. Yet.)

Using all the strength you could muster, you pulled on his freakishly pale arms. He seemed to be stuck real good, because the screams of bloody murder he was currently directing at you seemed to indicate that he was very much in pain.

Well, like they say: no pain, no gain.

After several tries and a stick of butter later, the demon was eventually released from his hole. Thankfully, the portal closed the moment his other leg got out, so all that was left was a semi-naked (thankfully, the upper portion of his body) and buttery incubus on your floor. He was lying down on the floor in a fetal position, small puffs of air escaping his lips in exhaustion. You nudged him lightly with your foot, checking to see if he was ok. Then he just—

Welp, now you were on the floor.

For someone who looked like he hasn’t touched any type of exercising equipment in his entire life, he was pretty fast at bringing you down with him.

“Ow! That’s rude,” you said lamely. Your arms were held above your head by the demon, with his legs trapping your own in a strong straddle. To any passing stranger, one might assume you were going to do the nasty.

If only your screams of terror were screams of pleasure, then those bystanders would be correct.

“STOP TICKLING ME! I’M SORRY FOR HITTING YOU WITH A—HAHAHA—BROOM AND FOR DUMPING A—HAHAHA—GLASS OF WATER ON YOUR HEAD! PLEASE STOP!” You pleaded, but the evil smirk on his face said that he still wanted one more apology.

Rolling your eyes through the tears, you finally said, “...and I’m sorry for calling you ugly.”

He released your arms and legs in an instant. “Thank you. Now, was that really so hard to say?”

Rubbing your wrists petulantly, you shoot him a glare. “You poop. Now I’ve got butter on my arms.”

“And whose fault was it for making the summoning circle too small in the first place? Speaking of,” he paused, his eyes lighting up in remembrance. You stared at him confusedly, as his face morphed in irritation at his sudden epiphany.

“I just realized. Did you fucking sacrifice a pair of ratty ass Converse as your offering to summon me? What type of shitty summoner are you?”

Oh right, you did. The summoning seemed like it happened ages ago. “Well, I’m sorry! The fucking sources said I need to offer something precious, and those shoes are really precious to me!”

“How the fuck are a pair of broken shoes precious? In what sadistic dimension?”

“I’m a college student! I only have like, three pairs of shoes. Now I’m down to two.” You said hotly, crossing your arms defensively. “Speaking of summoning, I don’t even know your name. I’m Y/N, by the way. I would say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but it really hasn’t been.”

He snorted. “Honestly, same. And what type of rude motherfuckers doesn’t introduce themselves when they first meet? Oh right, the type of rude motherfuckers who bash their guests on the head with their FUCKING BROOMS!”

You raised your hands defensively. “HEY! I was caught off guard!”

“Didn’t stop you from being a brat though,” he scoffed. “And my name is Yoongi, by the way. Don’t forget it, because you’re going to be screaming it real soon.”

If it was possible to feel your ovaries shrivel up, then that was exactly what happened when he finished saying that.

“Yoongi, or whatever the fuck your name is, I already told you. I’m not going to have sex with you.”

If Yoongi had fur, you were sure they would all be bristling right now. “Excuse me? Why not? I already told you, I don’t have any ‘demon STDs,’ as you put it. And besides, once you summon me, I’m contractually obliged to sexually please you until you are satisfied and then I can be on my merry way,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Look, I’m not entirely enthusiastic to do this myself, but given the fact that I would pretty much get killed by my boss if I don’t fulfill my duty, well... we don’t have much of a choice now do we?”

“What the fuck? So are we like bond by this weird demonic covenant that I had no idea I signed up for?”

Yoongi, once again, looked at you like you were an idiot. “Are you an idiot?” he groaned, reaching past you to grab your laptop. The document with your research was still open, so he immediately started scrolling through it to look at your sources.

He really couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the fuck is this bullshit? A tentacle demon? What is this, a hentai dissertation? What fucking sources did you use?” He sneered, reaching the references page. His eyes bugged out of their sockets. “Are you fucking serious? You used an ‘Idiot’s Guide to Demonic Summonings?’”

“Hey! The other demon summoning books were already checked out of the library. I didn’t have much of a choice,” you defended, offended by his condescending glare. What did the demon know about college survival, anyway? As long as it wasn’t Wikipedia, then it was good enough for the professor (probably).

“Well, that’s probably why you didn’t know about the contract. Basically, the moment you sacrificed your shitty shoes—“ You glowered at him for that comment, which he pointedly ignored. “—you pretty much asked for sex in return. My job can only be considered completed once your sexual urges are sated by me. If I can’t fulfill your wishes—which I can, by the way—I’m pretty much stuck here until I do.”

Sounded simple enough. There was one, teensy problem though.

“Uh. Dude? Yoongi? There’s like one problem though. I’m like, hella asexual. I don’t really do the whole sex thing, you feel?” You tried explaining to the demon, but judging from his cute head tilt, he probably didn’t know what that meant.

“You know what a homosexual is right?” He nodded.

“You know how it’s when a person of the same sex are attracted to each other, right?” He nodded again.

“So when I said that I’m asexual, it’s when a person... doesn’t have sexual feelings. Towards anyone. Understand?” He didn’t nod this time.

He scrunched his forehead in thought, most probably trying to wrap his tiny sex demon brain around the foreign concept. “Hold up, so what you’re saying is... you don’t like sex? Like, at all?” He asked, baffled. This time, it was you who nodded.

“Yup. Pretty much.”

A sudden realization hits the both of you after that: If you didn’t have any sexual urges, how the fuck is he going to leave? It’s not like he can just bang and scram—you have to want it and be pleasured and all that crap.

So now... He’s stuck.

“Oh give me a fucking break.” You both groaned simultaneously.

Well, you could always use a helping hand around the house. Even though that roommate was a sexually promiscuous, kind of good-looking (shh who said that?), grumpy incubus roommate. But you digress.

Fuck.

––♡♡♡––

Somewhere in the clouds above, an ethereal being by the name of Kim Seokjin had just slammed his head on his desk. A short notification from his celestial phone just informed him that his charge had just summoned a demon in her home and was now essentially locked in a covenant with said demon.

Kim Seokjin had a lot of experience working as a guardian angel, but he doubted that he could ever remember someone being this stupid.

“What did I do to deserve this,” he muttered to himself pitifully, already arranging a portal in his office straight to hell. More specifically, to Incubus Inc.

What? Did you think incubi just roamed around hell waiting to be summoned? Nah son, incubi summoning was a capitalistic junction in hell. Very lucrative, if Seokjin had to admit anything about the damned place.

Incubus Inc., located in the second circle of hell, was pretty much a boring, stuffy, office building. On the 666th floor was the big boss, Kim Namjoon himself.

What, did you think Satan ran this place? He hardly knew anything about business economics, much less how to run a whorehouse. Fat chance.

“Ah, Seokjin. So nice to see you. Are you finally going to avail that coupon I sent you?” Namjoon drawled, not even flinching when Seokjin suddenly materialized in the middle of his lavish office. Seokjin scoffed, sitting himself on one of the plush couches. His perky ass sunk comfortably into the material.

“No, I am not,” he groused. “I’m here to demand a refund, in the name of my charge Y/N L/N.”

“Oh, Y/N L/N? Didn’t she just seal her contract an hour ago? What, is Yoongi not up to standard or something?” Namjoon asked, flipping through his clientele files. “He has the most impeccable record; I doubt that he would be anything less than stellar.”

“Joonie.” Seokjin gave him the look.

“Uh oh. You’re giving me the look. Why do I get the feeling this isn’t some strange overdue familial visit?” Namjoon sighed, closing the book. “Ok. What’s the problem?”

“The problem, Namjoon, is that Y/N is innocent. Pure. And also under my watch,” he informed him, his jaw set in determination. “If anything bad happens to her, if she gets cursed for life...”

“Seokjin, we aren’t a cursing service. We would never hurt our clients, unless they request for it,” he grinned cheekily. Seokjin rolled his eyes at the innuendo.

Namjoon continued, “If it makes you feel any better, we do have a safety net in the contract. If our incubi cannot fulfill their mission within 90 days, he has to go under trial for investigation.”

“Investigation?” Seokjin questioned.

“Yeah. Nothing bad. It’s rarely the client’s fault. If anything, Yoongi is put under much more pressure than your silly little human is. He can’t force anything on her, by the way. We are proud citizens of the second circle of hell. Such savagery belongs to the seventh circle,” Namjoon said as a matter-of-fact.

Even so, Seokjin remained unconvinced. “As much as I would like to believe your words, you’re still a demon.”

“And your brother to boot,” Namjoon hummed.

“Even worse,” Seokjin deadpanned. “I guess I’m going to have to do some field work after all. See you around, Joonie.”

Good thing your apartment complex had a new vacancy open.

––♡♡♡––

“Yoongi, can you please put some clothes on? I have to finish this essay which is due in 30 minutes.”

He winked saucily at your hunched form. “Oh? Am I distracting you?”

“You’re as distracting as having my grandma naked. Now get off the dining table; your ass cheeks are going to leave a mark on the wood.”

Yoongi had only been in your apartment for approximately an hour, and he was already getting on your nerves. You still had that essay about demon summoning due tonight, and you cannot write in peace knowing that Yoongi was pretty much pressing his dick onto every available surface of your apartment.

In short, Yoongi had been trying very hard to seduce you in every way he could, but you were simply just not having it.

Even in bed, Yoongi was not necessarily known for his patience. He liked to get down to it, and if his partner was also willing, he also preferred to go hard and fast.

You were essentially everything he hated: a slow burn and a prude.

“Hey, I am not a prude,” you objected, since Yoongi had actually voiced his thoughts out loud. Yoongi snorted at your response, the heat from his rage and suppressed libido making him itch all over.

“Well then, don’t fucking act like one. Fuck, I am really getting pissed off right now. I think I’m going to let go of some steam, or else I might end up really fucking your table out of anger.” He snickered at your affronted look, amused by your blatant disgust at his words.

“Let go of some steam? Does that mean you’re going to leave me to look for someone to fuck?” You queried.

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Pretty much. I heard a couple of girls outside the hallway, I think I’ll start with them.”

“Oh, so does that mean the contract doesn’t bind you to just me?”

“Oh sweet little Y/N, haven’t you ever heard of threesomes? Orgies? Damn, I love those,” he sighed dreamily.

You pinched him on the arm, causing him to yelp and rub the sore spot tenderly. “Of course I know what those are, idiot. I just thought you weren’t allowed to have sex unless I was included.” You clarified, puffing your cheeks in annoyance.

He smirked cheekily at you. “Oh, you’re welcome to join, honey. If you need me, I’ll be next door. And FYI,” he added, already about to turn the door handle. The grin on his face was downright sinful, and not in the good way. More like the ‘I enjoy making your life a living hell’ kind of way. “I like my partners loud, so I hope you have headphones.”

At his words, panic surged within you because despite having headphones, you knew that the walls were paper-thin. No amount of music was going to block the sounds of high pitched moans and a rocking bed, so you needed to stop him if you wanted to submit your essay on time.

So what do you do?

Yoongi had only just inched the door open slightly when your hand quickly beat him to it, slamming it shut immediately. You turned the lock quickly, using your arms to cage the taller man to the door.

Immediately, Yoongi’s Cheshire grin resurfaced, visibly excited (in more ways that one) at this sudden turn of events. “Oh, are you finally reciprocating? Are we going to fuck or what?”

You hit him with your own sinful smirk. “Not a chance,” you said, your voice trailing off into a whisper. Just as his eyes fall to stare at you lips, you kissed him.

Nu-uh. No, not as in lip-to-lip kiss. You placed a little bunny kiss on his cheek. Then, you replaced it with a butterfly kiss. Then, penguin kisses. ‘EVERY FUCKING ANIMAL OUT THERE’ KISSES.

You didn’t even stop at his cheeks. You sent him a barrage of tiny nuzzles and chaste kisses all over his face: his cheeks, his little nose, his forehead, even his eyelids.

At first, Yoongi was very much unamused, maybe a little confused. “What the fuck are you doing?” He said, sounding annoyed, but he wasn’t stopping you. You weren’t even holding him back anymore. He could easily overtake you.

You paused long enough to grin sleepily at him. “Distracting you,” you said simply, and you continued on as if he hadn’t said a word.

After ten more kisses, as though brought back to his senses, Yoongi finally tried getting away from you (weakly, you noted), but because of the tiny scuffle that ensued, you ended up pining him to the couch instead.

“Oh, I get it. Are we going to fuck on the couch? Is that it? Is this some weird type of foreplay?” He asked, but your giggles short-circuit his brain and he thinks for a second that his heart stopped. Wait a minute, you’re not supposed to be cute to him! This is just a crazy one-time thing!

“Noooo. I’m just kissing you until your grouchies go away.”

With your confession, Yoongi started blushing bright red. “What the fuck? I don’t need your silly fucking kisses. And you aren’t even properly kissing—“ The sweet kiss you leave on his nose shuts him up instantly.

Throughout the kissing session, he was just starting wide-eyed at you, telling you to stop molesting him (which you weren’t, because you weren’t even touching him. You’re just lying on his chest, and he hadn’t pushed you off yet.), but he couldn’t stop the blush from spreading on his face.

After what seemed like a lifetime to Yoongi (it was probably only two minutes), you finally stopped. To your amusement, he even started pouting.

“Are you done?” He tried to sound irritated, but you both knew he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it way too much, in fact.

“That depends. Are you still angry?”

A pause. “...No.” He conceded. You grinned happily at the demon, patting him lightly on the head before getting off him and skipping merrily back to your laptop.

Now with your blissed-out demon completely sated and pacified, you returned to your homework in peace. Instead of distracting you like he had been doing, Yoongi chose to sit beside you and watch you silently, a thoughtful look on his face.

The game had changed, but neither of you even noticed.

[cestudyblr]

Hey there guys! I'm an English major and I do a lot of research papers for school, so I decided to do a post about it! I know a lot of people don't know how to properly do research for papers and it seems really hard, but it isn't so bad once you know what you're doing.

Note: the type of research I have experience with is biographical and literary! I have never done a research paper for anything STEM related so I’m not sure whether or not these tips also apply to those subjects!

Choosing a topic: Do:

Choose a general topic at first. This way you can base your final thesis off of what research you do.

Don't:

Be stubborn. You may have a really good idea, but there might not be a lot of research on it. Unless you’re willing to put in a LOT of work, you may end up twisting articles’ points to prove your point, which is not what researching is about.

Finding sources: Do:

Use the databases provided to you through your school’s library. Many schools (high schools and colleges) will have access to certain databases (ie. Jstor, Gale websites, etc), and librarians will generally be happy to help you figure things out if you need some help figuring out how to get to the sites!

Put in search terms that are specific enough to give you relevant articles, but general enough to not show any bias (see example below the cut).

Read abstracts/summaries if they are provided.

Check the sources from an article you love (ie. if you read an article that is perfect for your topic and you want more similar articles, go to the works cited page and try to find some of the articles cited).

Decide to scrap a source if you realize a few pages in it isn’t what you thought.

Don’t:

Put extremely specific search terms in. Just because you have the option to add five different terms to cross reference doesn’t mean that you should. It can make it so that a lot of different articles that could be relevant don’t pop up just because they don’t have every single search term you typed in.

Just choose the first articles that pop up in relation to your search terms and try to make those work. They won’t always be the most relevant just because they popped up first, and you may even find the perfect article way far down on the page just because your search terms weren’t perfect.

Reading the articles:

Do:

Block out chunks of reading for each day. For example, if you have a thirty page article, you can try to plan it out so you read ten pages a day, that way it doesn’t get too overwhelming.

Annotate the articles. Highlight really key points and make notes of your thoughts about how it could fit into your paper topic in the margins. This will make it a lot easier to write notes about the article and thinking about what you’ll take notes about helps you to be more engaged with the text.

Take notes on a separate document once you’ve finished reading the entire article, making sure to include the key ideas that could be relevant to your paper. You can take these notes, rewrite the sentences and put them right in your essay when you need to summarize a part of the article.

Don’t:

Try to sit down and read all of your sources in one go. Procrastinating is death when it comes to research papers; if you don’t have enough time you’ll probably end up only reading half of your article, and you could be missing really important information that would’ve been perfect for your paper.

Highlight everything. Try to keep it to only the things that are really important because if you are going back to reread the notes you wrote in the margins and the important parts you highlighted, you may find yourself having to reread the whole article because you over-highlighted.

Creating an outline: Do:

Create a thesis based off of the research you’ve done.

Take notes from what you already wrote about the various sources you found and organize them by topic for body paragraphs later on (see example below).

Include specific page numbers/quotes if you want to use them so that once you start writing your paper you won’t have to stop to check for exact wording and pages later on.

Don’t:

Plan to just summarize the articles in order. If your teacher wanted to read the articles you cited, they would. In a research paper, teachers generally want you to still have a thesis and therefore take a stance on whatever your subject may be.

Writing the paper: Do:

Skip over ideas you’re struggling with to come back to later. If you know that you have a solid idea in your outline, but you cannot for the life of you understand how to translate it into a coherent and scholarly sentence, just skip it for now! Move on to something else and come back to the point later; you may have some more clarity on how to explain it after writing something else.

Proofread your essay. I know a lot of people who just finish their essays and think it will be good enough to turn in. Odds are that you made at least a few little mistakes or wrote a sentence or two that doesn’t flow quite right.

Try reading your essay out loud (whispering or mouthing it works as well) to make sure that everything flows well. It sounds weird, but believe me it helps A LOT.

Don’t:

Try to write the entire paper in one sitting (if the paper is more than four pages). You will burn yourself out and your work will suffer as a consequence. Try to block out at least one day per three pages required to write your essay, and a few hours to edit (ie. if you have to write an eight page paper, round up and block out three days at the very least). This seems simple, but having a little breathing room to write your essay makes a big difference.

Citing your sources: Do:

Use easybib and then cross reference the citation with an online source (like the Purdue OWL lab) https://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/section/2/

Organize them alphabetically by last name on your works cited page. This is a very easy thing to forget because it’s so small, but if you forget it could lose you points if your teacher cares!

Use a hanging indent (aka indenting the second line of citations). I find it easier to just hit return on the second line and manually add in an indent as opposed to trying to figure out where everything is in the page settings, but if setting it to a hanging indent in settings is easier for you, then do that.

Don’t:

Use easybib and trust that it will immediately be right. Sometimes the website messes up small things like where a comma or period should go, which may not be a big deal in reality, but some teachers are very picky and will take off points.

Forget to check your work! I know for me my works cited is usually the last thing I complete, but it’s definitely one of the most important. If you forget to cite something or cite it very incorrectly, you could be accused of plagiarizing which is an offense that most schools consider worthy of expulsion. Works cited are important!

Example process:

I’m going to use a research paper I wrote last semester for my Shakespeare class as an example.

Choosing a topic:

My chosen topic was Ophelia’s descent into madness and subsequent death in Hamlet. (This topic doesn’t have an obvious bias, which is important)

Finding sources:

When I started researching, I kept my search terms more general and used “Ophelia” and “death” because I didn’t want to specify whether Ophelia’s death was accidental or purposeful, as I knew it would be a point of debate in some articles.

When it came to finding sources, I looked through about five before settling on my final three sources. There was one that I thought would work, but after downloading it and reading the first page I realized it wasn’t what I needed, and I ended up scrapping it.

Reading the articles:

I made sure to block out a day for each source. I realized after the fact that I should have allowed myself more time, which is why for future papers I made the ten page a day rule for myself.

Here is an example of the notes I left in the margins of the articles:

Creating an outline

I tried to organize the information from the different articles into a few topics

I also went through the scenes in the play that included Ophelia and included any quotes from the text that could be relevant to my points (you can do this for almost any literary paper, for biographical research papers this isn’t as relevant).

Writing the paper

Honestly, I started this essay two days before it was due. However, since I had done so much work on my outline and reading my sources beforehand I managed to finish it with a day and a half worth of work and I used part of the second day and the morning the paper was due to proofread and edit it a lot. I probably read this eight page paper about ten times in total, and it definitely paid off (I think got a B+ in a top level english class for this paper I wrote in a day and a half). Starting earlier might have helped out with making sure that everything was more coherent, but I also know my limitations and my professor’s grading process so I know this was a good grade for the class and the amount of work I put in.

Citing your sources:

I kept my citations in a separate document and made sure to double check them before printing them with my normal paper.

If you do make your works cited in a separate document, make sure you make the page number at the top match where it would be in the document (ie. if you wrote an eight page paper, make sure your have “Lastname 9” at the top of the page).

This only applies for MLA though I believe! That’s the only format I am familiar with though, so I may be wrong.

Good luck with your paper! If you have any questions, my ask box is always open, and so is my messaging!

[podcake]

Podcasts & Style/Substance

I must share to you readers that I am in the middle of a very much expected but somewhat rough decision at the moment. After about six or more years of having the same black Toshiba laptop that has stored information from middle school crossover fanfiction to job resumes to questionable png files, I’m afraid it has officially kicked the bucket or at least fallen into some kind of cybernetic limbo. 

After one faithful day when it gave itself one less kick to grant me the privilege of finishing Miss Koboyashi’s Dragon Maid and was forced onto an infinite black screen for all eternity, it dawned on me that my little pal that has been my partner in blogging for years just couldn’t pull through the strength anymore. 

It was an old, busted thing by now-touch pad now replaced by a wireless mouse, brown-gray dust permanently caked onto the screen and in between the keyboard from lord knows wear, a severe lag that regularly musters an effort to keep my video files and word documents secure as I mindlessly surf the internet, and a battery that kept my computer at a pathetic half way point that threatened to undo all of my current progress if a passing dog were to trip the wire at the slightest. 

Little Tobi (as I called them) was a good friend and I will dearly miss them and the disposable information I will lose from letting it rot in the bottom of my bed for now. I write this now from my mother’s laptop as I secretly plan out my next move. 

The likely preceding from here is that I have plans to buy a new laptop to continue my work, to which you are entirely right. I am already aware that the simple black Toshiba with its decent screen size and functional keyboard are all I need for a few extra years of blogging and book pitches, but it’s so…boring. 

Beyond my desktop customization, there’s not much to old Tobi that really sparked the imagination of what kind of person I am and what business I have with a laptop from the get-go. To any passerby I could easily be an accountant or an overworked college student grinding through an essay. 

It’s a bland but perfectly usable piece of machinery that has done me no wrong for years, and yet I find myself eager to pursue something different. Something more pink.

I am set for my next laptop to be a pink one and my itchy buying finger might just make that happen before the summer ends. And my strong, personal desire for every item within my reach to be pink-or something related to pink-tends to skew my idea about features and actual quality. 

My sights have been set on a smaller computer with less memory and detachable keyboard for about a week and I am so very close to just finalizing the deal without anyone else’s input because…it’s pink. And I like pink.

This got me thinking about how we as content creators and consumers tend to be divided over what we perceive as genuine quality in our media. Specifically targeting podcasts, I do believe the concept of style and substance is a very common recurrence we come across and I have mentioned it at least vaguely in most of my reviews and other articles. 

The term “style vs substance” tends to have a fairly flexible meaning behind it that can pertain to multiple aspects at once. This contrast can come to mind when dealing with everyday obstacles and personal preferences over pretty much anything, though let’s talk about how it pertains to audio fiction since I know that’s what you’re here for.

Substance has to mainly deal with the idea of something’s overall depth and purpose. Substance aims to tell you one thing or multiple things and provide it in such a way that the idea can’t be muddled or misinterpreted. Be it an Aesop or a specific type of theme or message, substance is meant to leave an impression in more of the practical variety.

Style is much different. Style can be easily defined as to how something is done or presented in a way that is distinctly unique. Style aims to be eye-catching, interesting, or to generally appeal to a certain type of aesthetic choice. It wants to look good or cool or scary or weird and will go by any stretch of the imagination to fulfill that.

A story that relies too heavily on substance will certainly have a focal point and a clear narrative that is easy to digest, but it will be at the risk of being unremarkable. It will not stick with a listener if an audio drama has a very clean cut story and characters that all fit predetermined roles but no real flair of individuality that makes its whole plot really ring any bells besides the ones set to a very specific tune. 

On the flip side of this coin, too much style can provide an entirely different dilemma. This creates the situation in a which a show is rich in pretty little details and nice music and the occasional wit, but it will ultimately be as compelling as a screensaver. These stories don’t exist in the realm of being genuinely deep or progressive but rather to just to give off a unique vibe, which can make it rather hollow in everything else. 

In my last article, I did go on about my irritation with podcasts that don’t cater to a story and care more about being quirky for quirky’s sake, namely about the over saturation of the “fake radio show” format that is hopefully being reworked by The Bridge as we speak, but that’s a topic I’ve ragged on enough one March ago.

And despite this, I am lucky enough to be invested in a type of medium that seems to have this style and substance balance pretty well figured out. 

Not everyone is a winner in this department, though I am confident in my belief that many podcast writers know that their vision is not complete without a purpose and that this purpose can stay relevant with just the right amount of tasteful flourish. 

As this is a fairly open-ended topic, there is more than one way to manage this balance. For example, I believe a show is capable of being more heavy on substance while still having a style because the aesthetic of choice was minimalist to begin with. Titles that comes to mind is The Bright Sessions, Wolf 359, and the newest show I’ve gotten around to simply titled OAKPODCAST. 

I won’t go into much detail about each one though all of them do cater more to providing substance over style in a way that works. They are known best for their character focus, engaging dialogue and some occasional thoughtful narration, and mostly realistic portrayal of its setting even though they will occasionally lean heavily on otherworldly elements to show the setting is not as normal as it appears. 

These shows are abundant in the substance category because its ideas are meant to be narrowed down to a few very specific idea pertaining to whatever arc or character they may focusing on. And yet they are still memorable because they exist in a world that is just different enough from our own that we’d like to learn more about it.

Shows that play more into style than substance can be equally engaging. Ones that come to mind are Hadron Gospel Hour and The Meat Blockade, two very different shows that are dedicated to strong stylistic choices that don’t interfere with its narrative. 

Be it Gospel Hour with its love for dimensional travel and ideas directly inspired from seventies and eighties pop culture or The Meat Blockade’s ideas drawn from the likes of Kafkaesque and surreal humor and just the right touch of Broadway, it’s clear where the focus is meant to be without it being a deal breaker on where the story lies in all this. Thus the strange decisions work as a service to the story rather than it being treated as a lesser priority. 

Going back to the Broadway thing, I wasn’t kidding. The Meat Blockade has an entire, roughly four minute segment in their fifth episode where a group of anthropomorphic frogs break out in a music number…and it works really well because it’s ultimately an exposition song that describes their current situation, the hidden lore about the setting, some hints of foreshadow, and nicely transitions into the next scene and leaves on a cliff hanger for episode six.

It’s such a strange choice editing and writing wise and I’m choosing to provide this as an example because it’s a damn excellent way to establish creativity and tasteful zaniness that still works to inform.

But it is also possible to have a fifty-fifty situation going on where the style and the substance coexist so well that one cannot exist without the other.

Our Fair City comes to mind where it’s richly described dystopian world and unique characters are used to explore more in-depth themes and still have one single tale to tell, or, multiple branching tales. 

The same can apply to Greater Boston with just a touch more realism thrown into the mix, creating a fairly stylish and satisfying audio drama about life in a fictionalized version of a real city.

The key here is that the world and its rules play a part in why the characters act the way they do which lets it be equal parts distinct and fulfilling as a story.

Without these aesthetic decisions in mind, some of these shows simply wouldn’t be what they are while the same can apply the substance latent shows who wouldn’t be the same without their choice of character interaction and treatment of specific themes. 

Some are far more likely to lean more towards one than the other but that’s because it’s not a necessity for The Bright Sessions to have a jazzy backtrack and it’s not expected for The Meat Blockade to have a long and detailed monologue about Berenger’s relationship with his girlfriend. 

But that’s the interesting thing about the style and substance equation-it can be switched around as many times as necessary to fit a story’s current narrative. Maybe one day we learn the tragic backstory of a single gag character, maybe one day there will be a stretch of retro-funk music played over a straight faced hero’s inner thoughts. 

It’s when these ideas are of service to the stakes and a characters’ all around presence that the script can be flipped and deliver a much needed change of tone that keeps the listener on their toes.

This won’t only be impressive on a sound design and editing standpoint, but also establish some diversity in the writing style to keep the story varied and interesting. 

Whatever the balance may be, it must be one that lets the story flourish in a way that feels authentic and natural. A concept is only as strong as the effort going into it. 

Don’t allow a story to be expressed in a distinct way then it won’t be remembered but let flair and pizzazz be too much of a focus and your final product will come off as meaningless fluff. 

Let your world building and natural need for sparkle be the thing that draws in the viewer rather than isolate them from the goings on of what is especially important. 

Don’t let characters fade into oblivion from a need to make a story easy to understand, let them be factors and active players, not mouthpieces and exposition machines. 

And if one certain element speaks to your project more than the other, that is entirely understandable. Certain plots are better seen through a substance perspective than a stylish one and some ideas are best seen with stylish decisions being a priority with substance being a smaller part of the equation.

I suppose you could say it’s less a case of style vs substance than it is style/substance or substance/style-it’s a balancing act that comes with compromise and patience rather, not just a case of right and wrong.

So thus my decision about what new laptop I should get to replace my old one is less a choice of a functional laptop or a pink laptop, but rather settling on a functional pink laptop.

[chloenoelxx]

Season 2 Klance and Shallura Analysis

Alrighty so this is another one of those voltron prediction/theory/rant its basically an analysis of some parts of season 2 not all bc that would take me forever but just a few key parts (aka the key to my heart Klance okay bye). So grab a drink because this is an essay folks that I spent way too much time on than I should have. Let’s begin shall(ura) we? (I hate myself)

So I’m gonna start with a very good and very platonic (in my opinion) relationship, which is K//allura. Okay okay, they have so much potential to be bffs its exciting.

First off, I took the whole Galra Keith and Allura tension as a message the creators wanted to convey to the viewers about judging someone merely by their race. Honestly I really love it when tv shows, especially kids shows, integrate bigger ideas like racism into their stories. Its subtle yet satisfying and I really really appreciated this particular scene with Keith and Allura.

Allura is describing her hatred for the Galra which is basically her hatred toward a part of Keith that he can’t even control. He never chose to be Galra, it’s just in his blood. And obviously that hurts him because its a part of who he is:((

Like ugh this is so sweet guys. So as you know from the title of this, I don’t ship K//allura at all, but this scene was very special to me in a much different way than how I feel from a romantic interaction. Like this is a genuine moment between two characters that are haunted by the same group, the Galra. Keith is part Galra, he has a part of the enemy inside of him which is probably causing inner turmoil maybe even self-hatred within him. And Allura as we know hates the Galra for killing her entire civilization. These two have a deep character development from this scene alone. We see that Allura has matured from being bitter toward Keith for being Galra to understanding that a person should not be judged by their blood but who they truly are. Also we see that Keith has accepted the fact that yes he may have a part of the enemy within him, but that does not mean he has to be anything like them. He is also pretty stand-off ish and doesn’t like opening up necessarily. He’d much rather keep to himself (other than Shiro), but he is finally opening up to someone else as well. He forgives Allura immediately despite how offensive her bias opinion was towards him. I just love Keith. 

So these two are super close now or should be? Which is pretty awesome considering… Keith is super close to Shiro too. SO now he’s close to both Shiro and Allura who are both, might I remind you all, much older than would be appropriate for him to have a romantic relationship with. Anywho, this reeks of space parents and an angsty teen.

Which then leads to Shallura and why I believe it is pointing toward canon woot woot love these goobers. Alright so I’m solely focusing on a few scenes in particular where my heart was pounding and my eyes watering and I was clutching my heart while screaming at my computer screen. The feels man the feels. 

I just about swooned at this. Like these underrated moments are what really get me. Like I love the whole Shiro taking Allura’s hand and telling his wife to get some rest, that got me feeling some sort of way. But this scene guys. In the heat of battle, Shiro is concerned for Allura. He’s basically saying “I wish I could be there to take care of her but Coran you have to do it for me.” I cannot guys I cannot.

She could’ve called for anyone else. Was it Keith? NOPE IT WAS SHIRO, PEOPLE!!

Never forget honestly. This is the face of a broken man. I have never seen Shiro more distressed and this pic doesn’t do it justice but when you watch this scene his eyes are glistening like he’s about to cry. The calm, collected leader Shiro is on the verge of tears? omg I can’t. 

Honestly this is my weakness. When a character gets hurt and another character goes ballistic and rages. Like Shiro is so determined to kick ass in this scene and avenge Allura. End me. 

For Shallura, they both have an understanding that they need each other. They are each other’s support especially considering they both are the leaders and are the older ones of the group. They help bear each other’s responsibility which is much different than Klance’s dynamic. For Klance it is much more playful and focused on chemistry. And also because they are younger it is much more naive and afraid. Both Keith and Lance obviously care for each other but they try not to show it especially when the other is present. They are self-conscious and afraid of what the other will think, that the other doesn’t feel the same way. Shiro and Allura, however, both know that they care for each other and they aren’t afraid to express it through calling each other’s name during battle and other small gestures like that.

Which I forgot to mention that everyone is freaking out over a simple hug between Allura and Keith but like have you noticed that both Klance and Shallura have not had a proper hug yet? Ummmm is this a slow burn fic or… Seriously tho, I’ve watched plenty of shows and animes (I’m shameless) to know that usually the canon couple does not have that special hugging and seal-the-deal scenes quite so early in the series because all the anticipation builds up until the perfect scene is created. I swear a tender Klance and Shallura moment is coming I swear. 

Which then leads to my mains, Klance. I just have to admit that one of the many reasons I love these two is because of the fact that Keith and Lance are like my fav characters of all time. And I can relate to both of them at the same time idk. Anyway, back to what’s important: evidence of canon.

So… Do I really need to show these? Like these scenes do not need further analysis it just reeks of dorks-in-love-who-don’t-know-they’re-in-love-with-each-other-and-who-don’t-know-that-the-other-is-in-love-with-them. Man I love Klance. 

So instead let’s over-analyze a few other scenes…

“Babe I thought you would have my back.”

“First you forget the bonding moment now this.”

Look this one is a stretch lol but just look at Keith’s face. When you watch this scene, Keith goes from his signature annoyed and irritated look to a betrayed and frustrated look. Maybe that’s just me, but aside from that, he doesn’t necessarily look pissed off, his face changes from his usual pissy look to something much different. Obviously what Lance says does calm him down enough not to yell back at him, but he also looks frustrated because no one understand him or his secret about his past with the Blade of Mamora and all that good junk at this point. I think it is especially bothering him that he can’t just upfront say what he is hiding, and instead he knows he is looking like a fool in front of them (and especially Lance). 

Body language is important. Keith turns around as not to face them, I think he is hurt because obviously this whole situation is important to him but not even Lance seems to understand him. And I seriously think Keith and Lance have like this weird mutual understanding usually. Like ya they fight I get that, but usually they kinda get what the other is trying to get at I feel, idk maybe thats just me. 

Let’s take a moment to appreciate how blue Lance’s eyes are in this… I love my son…

So like if you look closely at this scene you notice that when Lance is making eye contact with Keith, Keith has his typical “I hate you Lance but really I don’t but I’m gonna pretend like I do” face. But right when Lance looks away Keith actually looks sad and kinda hurt. Out of everyone, he hates that Lance is the one revealing his flaws, and even he knows its true. Lance stop insulting your husband. He’s actually sensitive about what you think of him:(((

Uhhh lowkey I think Keith is just as insecure as Lance is, but he just doesn’t show it… Oh the Klangst!

And another thing we get to see in Season 2 is that Lance is showing ALOT of concern of Keith’s wellbeing which is pretty big if you ask me because season 1 was basically Pining!Keith worried about his boyf. Now we get to see some worried Lance.

Honestly, like I mentioned before, the creators are going for a slow burn. And both Shallura and Klance definitely have their little hints and subtle moments that are very easily missed. But that’s the point. If it’s too obvious then the ending won’t be as powerful, the couples won’t be as special. Also, the development of both of these couples is going slow but very well thought out and I actually appreciate it a lot. I know for a fact K//allura won’t be canon because their interaction is too straight-up(lol) for it to be canon. It could be said as “predictable” but idk I just get a total brotp vibe from them nothing more, plus if they were hinting at canon for them, they wouldn’t have them hug so soon. Also their reactions and facial expressions toward the hugs and touches would be very different. It wasn’t tender like the Bonding Moment™ or the Shallura hand grab™. Facial expressions and reactions are key! Keith looked indifferent when Allura fell into his arms and their hug was sweet yes but it wasn’t hesitant and nervous like a couple who just discovered their feelings for one another would react. It was a hug between two people who recognize their bond. It was a strong bond yes, between two lovers? no I don’t think so. Allura, herself even confirmed how she now viewed the paladins as her family and it just felt to much like a familial bond I couldn’t see anything more to it. If Kallura was to be canon they would have more subtle moments than in-your-face big moments. Little details in the way Keith or Allura would look, or in the background they would be gazing at each other (*cough* like Keith does to Lance *cough*) It’s the little things that count, remember that.

The only ship I was concerned that would be canon was Sh//eith, because they have an obvious bond that is much different than everyone else. But ever since the “Shiro, you’re a bro to me” happened, it basically killed any chance of it happening. Which in my opinion is much better because Klance and Shallura have so much potential and their stories can expand and be written so well. As it is, the creators are doing a really good job at unraveling their stories slowly but just enough as to give the viewers hope which is the goal usually for tv shows. They try to make the shippers suffer sometimes *sigh*. 

Anywho, if you read up to this point thanks for listening to me rambling about space parents and space ranger partners lol! I loved season 2 because it revealed a lot about Keith not only through the obvious backstories and blade of mamora stuff but also through his interactions. And yes Keith is my fav lol. Anyways, I am 99.9% sure Klance and Shallura are gonna be canon but by no means am I saying you shouldn’t ship what you want. You do you, folks. Ship on and enjoy the show!

[dragonkeeper19600]

How did you get into the EddEddy ship? What sparked it? What episode cemented it for you? Why or why don't you ship Edd and Eddy together?

I actually first heard about EddEddy when I was in high school. A friend of mind conspiratorially whispered about shipping online, probably trying to make a point about how weird and depraved the internet was. They told me that there were people who shipped characters from Teen Titans and Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy.

Now, I was already kind of familiar with shipping, so Teen Titans made sense to me but Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy? What, that goofy cartoon with the wiggly lines? People ship that? Is this a joke? I did believe it because it was the internet, Rule 34 and all, but I thought it was really weird.

Later, while browsing TV Tropes, I came across another mention of Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy. It was on one of the Ho Yay pages, I think, and they mentioned how the Eds are seen by some fans to have a nuclear family dynamic, with Eddy as the “father,” Edd as the “mother,” and Ed as the “child.” Again, I thought that was weird and a stretch. I still thought people shipped purely to get their jollies off, and while I’d had a crush on Edd when I was a kid, like most girls did, now that I was older I couldn’t see how you could find any of those kids appealing. Not that I was accusing anybody in my pedophilia; my brain didn’t go that far. I just didn’t get it and moved on before I could think to hard about it.

When I rediscovered the show this spring, I had come to see slash in a different way. A big part of it was the thesis I’d had to write for my cinema degree. I had chosen to write an analysis on slash, and though none of the texts I read mentioned Ed, Edd ‘n’ Eddy (in fact, most of them focused on Star Trek), I was able to recognize a lot of the criteria that slash fans look for in Edd and Eddy. 

I don’t want to have to repost my entire essay, but basically the short version is slash often pairs characters who are close in canon, are shown to care more for each other than they do for any love interests they encounter, are able to achieve a partnership between equals without the hierarchy that many straight couples sadly cannot escape, especially in fiction. Often, plots in slash fan fiction revolve around the two male characters struggling to escape the hangups of society, either outright homophobia from other people or even within themselves or, more subtly, the culture that encourages men to be more restrictive and reserved with their emotions. Slash, based on this classic model, becomes a fantasy of love that can be expressed freely, with nothing held back.

Whether EddEddy is a canon pairing or not, their arc in the series does seem to follow that structure. As the episodes go by, they become more open with and more support of each other. Edd especially often reaches out to Eddy, helps out of his dilemmas, comforts him, and encourages him to be better. Eddy is less motherly than Edd, in between his moments of selfishness and cowardice are scenes where he has Edd’s back, especially in season 5. What’s more, Eddy clearly trusts Edd, opting to share a bed with him in “Rambling Ed” and asking for his advice and counsel in “Pick an Ed” and “Ed in a Half Shell,” a remarkable gesture from someone as disdainful of others as Eddy. 

The movie is the culmination of this arc, as Edd makes his limits known to Eddy and Eddy confesses everything he’s been hiding to an accepting Edd. I missed the movie when it aired on Cartoon Network, but watching these scenes with the research I’d done on slash in mind made me recognize what Edd and Eddy had achieved. It was the Utopia of Feeling that so many slash fans long for, a connection where neither partner needs to hide anything and perfect empathy is possible. 

The movie made me realize that Edd is good for Eddy. He holds back his darkest impulses, he provides a voice of guidance and wisdom that Eddy sorely needs in his life. Eddy, for his part, is a wildcard and rabble rouser that Edd probably never would have sought out on his own. But Eddy has made Edd’s life more interesting. He can make him laugh, and it’s clear that Edd gets swept up in the excitement of the latest scam or the most recent misadventure. Edd probably doesn’t need Eddy in his life, but I think that makes it that much more meaningful when he sticks around anyway. He doesn’t need Eddy by his side; he wants him to be there.

Their friendship is so good and so meaningful, I honestly did find myself wondering if maybe I should ship it too for a little while. But, when I rewatched some of the episodes, I concluded that Edd and Eddy were probably straight. Still, you can love someone very deeply without being in love, and I think that’s what they have. It’s precious and shouldn’t be underestimated.

[mxadrian779]

An incomplete draft of an essay about how I came to my identity--and how I came to accept it. Spoiler alert: Annie Lennox is a key player.

It all started with a voice. This voice was my comfort when life was painful. It was my expression when I was devoid of my own. It was my clarity amidst my confusion. It captured me, yet it set me free. That voice was everything to me, but it wasn't mine.

I cannot remember exactly how I came to her. I was never a big music fan, but something about her was captivating. Her full-bodied voice gave me the strength and stability I craved when I was seventeen years old. She possessed a talent I have always longed for, and her songwriting style was one that even I, a stubborn poet, deeply admired. When she sang, it was like her words rang through my heart. She spoke to me - she spoke for me - putting into form what I could not even begin to express. I was getting to know her work, but I still did not know her.

I knew that I was a fan of her music, though I had not been a fan of any singer since I was a young child. I knew that her music gave me a certain strength, and I was not going to be shaken from her. It was time to find the artist behind the art. I was very lightly familiar with her original band, Eurythmics, but I had never heard of her solo work under her own name. I had never seen her - she reigned just a few years before my time. The search was on to find out who she was.

I was shocked when I first saw pictures of Annie Lennox. The blonde pixie hair, the sharp-shouldered suits, and the dominating way she carried herself - it was jarring and rather intimidating. It was something I had never seen before. I could not believe that this is who I followed and admired. I was, in a way, terrified. I tried not to let her unsettling style interfere with the pleasure in her music. However, there was a brief period I could not listen to her without envisioning her, and I could not envision her without feeling scared. One day, I finally stopped myself and forced myself to think through my reservations. Being a fan of her voice did not mean I was obligated to be a fan of her image, I realized. Then, I probed my mind further. What was wrong with her image? Why couldn't I simply dislike her image, rather than having such a, as I described it, "terrified" reaction? There was a reason for such a passionate response, and I was determined to find it.

I spent the next few months locked in a love-hate relationship with both Annie Lennox and myself. I loved listening to her music, but sometimes I would force myself to shy away from her because of the confused feelings she evoked. Still, her music resonated deeply with me, and I found my best emotional periods were spent listening to her and drowning myself in her words. I found myself falling in love with her voice, and the farther I fell, the closer I came to self-discovery, though it would be years before I could make the full connection. Annie's voice was beautifully haunting; her words were expressive and stirring; and I soon realized she was unlocking something that I had inadvertently sealed away a few years prior.

I will never be able to explain it - perhaps it is supposed to be inexplicable - but somehow Annie Lennox was nudging me towards a breakthrough. She was tapping into an emotional wellspring I had not visited since I was fourteen. Everything was confusing and strange in that time, and there was no shortage of embarrassingly stupid thoughts and actions for which I would continue to punish myself. I have the tendency to wash over that entire period, to write it all off as foolish adolescence, without giving any thought to things which might prove significant - without wanting to think that there could be anything relevant and important buried in that period of borderline insanity.

What Annie Lennox awakened in me was the sense that I was not whole. Despite being in my late teens and feeling like I was almost a complete person, I was forced to admit that I was not complete - far from it, perhaps. There was something I needed to find, something scary but important. It was like my puzzle was missing a crucial center piece, without which the whole picture could not make sense.

The more I listened to her, the more I opened myself up and admitted my vulnerabilities and confusion, a task which does not come easily to stubborn ones like myself. I melted into her lyrics, letting such longstanding favorites as "Oh, God" and "Why" act as channels for my deeper and tougher emotions. "Why" took hold of my self-anger and gave it expression; "Oh, God" supported me through my depressive, darker periods. The latter song was especially expressive and soulful for me - in my deepest pits of loathing the world and myself, the song allowed me to channel my negative emotions, assess them, absorb them, and release them to God before they would consume me. To this day, the final verse never ceases to bring tears to my eyes, both the result of her beautiful voice and of the difficult times the song carried me through: "Oh, God, now where do I come in? Gone and broken everything, so I hope you'll understand if someone needed a helping hand, it must be now. It must be now."

Every word was an emotion, and every song was an adventure. From beginning to end, every song seemed to hold a transformation. But what was my adventure? What was my transformation? What was it that Annie wanted me to find?

I had not fully assessed my confusion yet, nor had I any idea of its mere nature. I was still at the edge of my transformation - I was still standing on the cliff, curious about (and perhaps drawn to) what lay just over the edge but deathly afraid to find out. Soon, however, I would be given a hard nudge, and into the psychological chasm I fell.

I interrogated myself. I forced myself to look into the past, and imagine how it may reflect onto the future. I scrutinized everything from my history, every past emotion, every relationship, every interaction. At the end of it all, it seemed there was nothing new to see. Was this first wave of introspection, some of which was just a tad painful, all for naught? Was I being paranoid, perhaps too eager to find something which was never there? I spent an indeterminable amount of time thinking about this. I wondered if there was any reason at all for the introspection. Perhaps I was just interrogating an innocent person. There was nothing to find. I was upset over nothing.

However, the feelings of confusion and emptiness remained. As I was approaching a new wave of introspection, something of a follow-up, I told myself that I could not be wrong. There had to be something there. If there was nothing to see, I shouldn't have been able to begin looking. I knew there was a reason for the sudden interest in self-examination. There was something waiting to be found; I just wasn't ready to see it yet.

I dove into that psychological chasm again a little while later, perhaps when I was a little more mentally mature and had some of the right tools. I evaluated the results of the last assessment, and revisited the questions and answers. I found that, in a way, I had inadvertently lied to myself. I was not, in fact, ready for such an assessment the first time. It was like being placed in an important school exam without being given a pencil. I wasn't prepared; I didn't have the proper foundation or tools with which to work out my problems. This time, I knew I was ready. I would venture into my psyche, and I would not rest until I had found everything I needed.

Everything started to look clearer this time. Reevaluating my emotions, my interactions, and my past was simpler, yet in many ways also harder. I was able to see the undertones of my emotions and many key pieces of my past, especially during my early teen years. Suddenly, it was easier to identify parts of my psyche. I could see what they were, and could begin to understand, even if only mildly at this early stage, what they meant. My identity was finally becoming a bit clearer and simpler...but many times more frightening. After mulling over my most significant thoughts, dissecting my emotions, probing my lowest periods and the emotions bound to them, I came to a terrifying conclusion: I was gay.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was not prepared for my reflection to come to that result. Looking back, it was perhaps the only logical conclusion. All of my confused thoughts regarding women, the embarrassing, often mortifying stages in my late adolescence and early teens, and the fact that it was the beautiful, powerful voice of an androgynous Scottish woman that first set me on this path - could there have been any other result?

I panicked. I threw everything into the psychological safe and locked it away. There was no way that could be right. I couldn't be gay. That's just weird. The word "gay" elicited such a sense of repulsion in me. It was gross and dirty, and I definitely was not gross and dirty. I was terrified in so many ways. I didn't know what this meant for me. I didn't know what it meant for others. How would they look at me? How could I ever tell my friends? They would look at me like I was some kind of pervert - that's sure how I felt about myself. How would the world treat me? As a physically-disabled girl, I already felt like a mutant. I couldn't imagine how people would react to me with this new layer of ick.

"How many sorrows do you try to hide in a world of illusion that's covering your mind?" I needed Annie Lennox now more than ever. She was the only one I could turn to. I couldn't dare expose myself to friends and especially not family. I was still not sold on the result, and I was not going to tell anyone until I was ready to tell myself. Now that I had a possible answer to my question, I needed help coming to terms with it. I sank hard into her music. I became especially attracted to the deeply emotional, brooding songs like "Anything but Strong" ("...There's no need to pretend. You can't turn back again ... You struggle on and on to find where you belong. Where do you belong?") and "I've Tried Everything" ("...And I should know, but I can't explain the endless noise sounding in my brain ... I should be cool, but I'm burning hot. I should be good, but I fell apart.")

[rewindrebellion-blog]

EkkoTaliyah and Yasriv? :0

Yasuo x Riven

On a Scale (1-10): Initially, it was a five, but with more thought, turned into a strong nine.

I decided to start with this ship because, holy carp, I just had far too much to say about Ekko and Taliyah, and in advanced in case you don’t wanna read that MONSTER of an essay, thanks for sending this in so I could change my mind about that ship. Anyways, let’s begin.

Since my interest really remains in the Zaun/Piltover area, it was kind of weird for me to have to try and think about characters beyond there. But with the very little I knew of Yasuo and Riven, the ship kinda… appealed to me. At first, I was like, “No way in hell,” and then as I was thinking about it, I was like, “No. Actually, this could work and might even be cute.”

The funny thing is that they are basically both rebels with a serious cause, and it’s the funniest thing that they both are exiles of a self-proclaimed type, more Riven than Yasuo but I digress.

They would totally travel together and help each other out with their quests! That seems like a thing they would do. They are both in search of honour and purpose, and what a cuter end to a story than to find this honour and purpose in each other. In a less romantic way, they understand each other’s plight in a way that no one else really would. Riven wouldn’t blame Yasuo for his decision to go search for the assassin and bring justice. She might even find her own purpose and honour in helping him achieve his goal. And once that was all said and done, it’s even entirely possible that he would help her back.

There is the initial thing of, she’s Noxian and he’s Ionian, but given their current states of exile, I feel like this would be something they could work through rather early, especially if they explain their stories. Perhaps they can get rather dramatic with each other, and it’s strongly possible that they might have to part ways for personal reasons, but I kinda hope they work out? They both have the patience to deal with each other, they are both calm hearted, they have similar energy levels (ie; one’s not too hyper for the other), and I feel like they would just work! I can’t explain it, they just make sense to me.

Yep. I ship it. *throws hands up* I ship it.

Ekko x Taliyah

ALRIGHT. I’m going to be fair. When I first heard of the ship, I hated it. I was not a huge fan. Two hours ago, I still wasn’t a fan but I was over myself. Now that I’m actually sitting here and thinking and talking about it, I’m severely reconsidering.

There is nothing to compare the ship between my Ekko and this Jinx; I will take this fucking ship to the grave, but dammit, I’m gonna board the Ekko x Taliyah ship, too, just for variety’s sake.

Okay, so, initially, I thought the Taliyah/Ekko ship was too forced to me, that they wouldn’t work naturally. I felt like Ekko and Taliyah’s values were too different from each other, that he would not want to leave Zaun and she would never leave Shiruma; he was too much a “bad boy” and she was too much of a “good girl” -- but in all honesty, this initial misconception actually adds to their dynamic.

Because, perhaps, the opposite is true. Many people see Ekko as a bad boy, who breaks laws and steals from Pilties, but in truth, he’s very kind hearted and loving and compassionate. And Taliyah’s desire and love for her family and her people makes her seem like such a sweetheart (and she is), but she’s also wild and free and stubborn as stone. In other words, they would most likely know the side of each other that other people might overlook or forget or miss. Ekko’s compassion would speak to Taliyah, and Taliyah’s freedom-loving attitude would appeal greatly to Ekko.

Unfortunately, Ekko is very hurt by his past and Taliyah fears hurting the ones she loves, and this can really drive a wedge between them. I know that Ekko could comfort her and help her with her fear and she could provide the tenderness he needs to heal, but they might be too scared of themselves or each other to really get close enough to say anything. It would start on a rather shallow level, though I suppose that’s how most relationships start, but as they learn more about each other and their history, it’s hard to tell which direction it would go, though no matter which way it would go, they would still be pulled apart by their values.

There’s also Ekko’s great dislike towards Pilties and Taliyah might just think he’s being unfairly stubborn against those people, and that could really burst into a great dispute between them, especially since they’re both stubborn as hell and Ekko won’t ever admit to liking a Piltie. At most, she could get him to relent. But this ideal is more appealing than annoying because, yes, Ekko is a jerk-off to Pilties, but it’s not without reason. I guess she would have to appeal to the forgiveness and freedom of letting go of that hatred but that’s something that they would need to figure out, and I don’t feel like putting too much thought into it at the moment.

The only other great downside I see to it (in terms of their actual) is their binds to their past and their home: I’m going back to that again. Ekko is too hurt from the past and Taliyah is too tied to Shurima, and I see them more as star-crossed lovers than as a life-long relationship -- which makes me appeal to the ship even more, because I kinda wanna know how they would deal with that; would they try to stay together, or would they say goodbye. Which is a super weird thing for me, because I hate, “Will they or won’t they?”s but this doesn’t feel like it’s out of a cheap YA scenario. They want to be together but they physically cannot? I feel hypocritical. But yeah.

But it’s so ironic that this couple who’s based themselves on freedom and life and the refusal to follow laws or rules are the ones who are tied down by their pasts and their home. Perhaps, maybe, this is kind of the cool part of them as a couple, because they could achieve that freedom together and they have all the freedom they could ask for, in a way, but the freedom to be with each other is something they need to seek in themselves; force to make a decision that may tie them down. One of them would have to give up their freedom to be with the other, but they couldn’t ask that of each other and they wouldn’t do it themselves so... what will they do? 

Ultimately, they are two gifted, special teenagers who want nothing more than make their home proud and do the world good and live by their own rules and breath all life has to offer them and they would make an amazing power couple that has the power to rule the world but instead choose to make it a better place.

On a Scale (1-10): Anyways, I had to leave halfway through writing this and I forgot a lot of stuff that I wanted to talk about. I’m very wishy-washy about this ship and how I feel about it, but talking about it has kinda pushed the scale from a three to, hummm, I’ll say about eight with some good room for improvement.

GOSH, this got bloody long and I can’t believe how much I wrote for these two. My goodness. Okay, I’m done now. If anyone ever read this far, holy carp, I’m sorry I wrote this much but thank you for reading it all. XD