#he's earnestly sweet and kind and good natured and he loves cats!

[pilferingapples]

Joly + 18, 22, & 12 for the ask game!

Nonny that was so fast omg

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character? All of the Amis keep some secrets from their parents but Joly just. Lies constantly. So So So Much Lying. He's honest about his illnesses and his problems with studies but everything else is just shameless prevarication all the way down. it's not that he thinks his folks would be mad about anything , although something ah hahaha yyyyeah they would , but mostly he just know they'd fuss. They'd Worry. They'd have So Much Advice. It's just so much easier to lie! He is not a writer but he's made up more stories than Prouvaire and with a more complex interconnected backstory. At this point his friends also enjoy hearing about what Hypothetical Joly is getting up to.

18. How about a relationship they have in canon with another character that you admire? I like most of the people he actually has a relationship with in canon so let's go with Mother Hucheloup: I think he's her favorite of the group, because he's mostly well behaved--for a Parisian college student-- and he Actually Pays For Things,but more than that he's just kind her favorite--not like a kid she might have had but like a favorite nephew, maybe, not that she's had a nephew, but she can guess. And his jokes make sense, not like those two friends of his. Hmph.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like? I like it when people make him cheerfully Very Weird :D He's Eccentric! quite a loaded term for his era! Nearly any Harmless Weirdness works for me with his character, especially if can be health focused-- syncing sleep to moon phases? Environmental Sound Sculpting? Dying his hair for Color Therapy? Sure! Anything! Although there's a special place in my heart for Joly looking utterly normal/bourgie and only upon entering conversation revealing that he's a complete freak (extremely affectionate <3)

[awellboiledicicle]

Also keep imagining Gale looking at himself in the mirror, squinting at all the mortal imperfections that Mystra would disapprove of in a lover.

The thickness of his waist, the lack of muscle definition from a life good food and wine. Callouses on his hands from writing, but lately formed ones from using his staff to fight. Lines on his face, evidence of a life of laughing and smiling and frowning in thought. Graying hair with split ends from the road not being the place for good shampoos. Skin folds and spots. Wrinkles and a good few stretch marks because Hawke never lets the group go hungry and he indulges well in the meals he cooks. The orb, naturally, makes the list by virtue of being the main reason why he'd be undesirable.

All those things and no less than two very good looking men were very interested in him. Enough so to plainly say that they both wanted him in a way he hadn't had with another mortal since before Mystra shifted their relationship. Just plainly saying they both looked him over and decided he was not just good enough but good enough for two.

It flatters him, of course, though he couldn't indulge either (or both, his imagination supplies before being pushed down) until the orb is calmer. And he wonders if they'd still find him so appealing when they could see all that he could in private.

He worries they'll see him in comparison to the other and call it off. After all, Anders is all legs and angles, height and intensity. Hawke is all lithe muscle and dexterous motion, small smirks and intense gazes. They have each other and have for a while now-- why add him? Why settle, when he could think of a myriad of ways he could be better. More.

He's not insecure about most things, but when it comes to himself he wavers. His mind and his magic are brilliant, that's no problem.

But himself? His body, his personality as he tries to earnestly charm them in return? Doubt.

What he doesn't see is Hawke and Anders loving the idea of a soft lover, that has the mental space to remind them both that life isnt all fighting and surviving and anxiety over tomorrow. A love that is earnest and sweet, if occasionally full of himself. Someone to take care of them and be taken care of in return. Someone without more scars than clear memories of where they got them, and kind eyes that won't judge them for the marks.

And yeah they find him attractive as hell. Hawke wants to kiss down his body and find where he's the most ticklish. Anders wants to know what he looks like when he's too blissed out to know where he is. They both want to know how he sounds when he begs and the look on his face when they pull his hair. Or if his spells can be as versatile in the bedroom as Anders' were in Kirkwall.

They also want to know what he looks like sleeping peacefully, or curled up with his cat. Or relaxing after a nice bath. They both melt when he gets that certain grin on his face or looks up at them with those wide dark eyes. How he looks tired from normal things. Excited. Triumphant. Happy. Safe.

Gale doesnt know those things initially, as he frets about his looks. But he will, eventually.

[hello-vampire-kitty]

Translated questions from Tanaka-sensei's interview

There was an interview with Tanaka-sensei for the 10th anniversary of Servamp and sensei was asked 25 questions. Enjoy!

1) Q: Please tell us the ranking of how well the vampires can do housework, particularly cooking!

A: Among the eight Servamps, in order of their cooking ability:

Lawless > Freya > Lily > Tsubaki > Hugh > Kuro > Ildio > Jeje. (What, Lawless is the best at cooking among the Servamps?! That's surprising. He probably bakes sweets for Licht-tan :) 2) Q: Has Tsubaki ever been really angry at Belkia's pranks?

A: No, he hasn’t. Tsubaki never gets really angry by his friends’ jokes. Belkia is also able to read the mood, so he doesn't play pranks that go beyond the extent of a joke.

3) Q: What kind of lessons did Mikuni learn in his childhood?

A: Piano, violin, swimming, tennis, painting, horseback riding, and various foreign languages.

4) Q: Are there any certain pairings of Servamp siblings that are particularly close or unfriendly with one another?

A: The ones who get along especially well are Lily and Jeje, Lawless and Ildio.

On the other hand, the ones who don't get along are Hugh and Lawless, and Jeje and Ildio.

In terms of one-sided feelings, Lily is afraid of Freya, Freya dotes on Lawless, and Ildio has a somewhat affinity for Kuro.

5) Q: Are there any characters who dislike sweets?

A: Shuuhei, Shamrock, Touma Taishi are not particularly fond of sweets.

6) Q: Why does Kuro like cup noodles (Rame Ou)?

A: Because it's easy to make and delicious.

(note: Rame Ou [ラメ王] is the name of the brand of cup of noodles that Kuro likes. The kanji 王 means king and ラメ is short for ラーメン "ramen" )

7) Q: Is there a reason why Mahiru isn't on the cover even though he’s the main character?

A: Yes, there is. 8) Q: When Licht-san gets drunk, he becomes more aggressive towards Lawless than usual, but how does he react to other people besides Lawless? (For example, Crantz, Guil, Mahiru, Kuro, etc.)

If Lawless is there, will he be harmed no matter who is around? A: It's not that he's getting more aggressive, it's just that he becomes more arrogant than usual, so he's more selfish with Crantz and Guil, starts giving longer angel lectures to Mahiru, and pets Kuro like mad.

9) Q: There are many characters in Servamp that wear glasses, including Shuuhei and Lawless, but who is the character with the worst eyesight of them all?　

A: Although he is far-sighted, Kurumamori Junichiro has the worst eyesight.

Lawless has no problem with his eyesight because his glasses are just for fashion.

10) Q: What is inside Licht-san’s angel backpack?

A: Wallet, a handkerchief, cookies, smart phone, a good luck charm given by his family, earphones, sheet music, and so on.

11) Q: Please tell us the order of those who are skilled at Mahjong from team Melancholy!

A: In order of their skills: Otogiri > Tsubaki > Sakuya > Shamrock > Belkia > Higan.

12) Q: How long is Misono’s ahoge (cowlick) ?!

A: It changes depending on his emotions.

13) Q: What is Kuro's favorite dish from Mahiru's culinary repertoire? A: Hamburger steak with melted cheese on top.

14) Q: I got hooked on SERVAMP because of the stage play! I thought the level of reproduction of the characters was of high quality, but I'd like to ask Tanaka-sensei what you thought about the fact that the characters you created were materialized. Please, we would like to hear your opinions about the stage play! A: I really enjoyed the show, purely as an audience member!

It was impressive to see the characters actually exist and move. Kuro's cat-like movements, Lily's graceful swinging of his scythe, Tsubaki's ghastly sword wielding, and so on. I also like the opening dance. I would love to see it again. 15) Q: I would like to know which characters do their hair and which ones leave it as it is! Besides Lawless, do the others leave their hair as it is? A: In addition to Lawless, Mahiru, Sakuya, Belkia, Shamrock, Lily, Mikuni, Yumikage, Junichirou, Iori, Miyako, Crantz, Sigurd and Youtaro are particular about their hairstyles.

On the other hand, Kuro, Gear, Tsurugi, Iduna, Ildio, Higan, etc. leave their hair as it is when they get out of bed.

16) Q: When I'm reading Servamp, I consider that the foreshadowing is great, but do you have a clear structure for the final story in mind, sensei?

A: The flow of the story is generally defined until the end.

17) Q: Tanaka-sensei, is there any character that has acted in a way that you didn’t expect or made you think something like “Did they really have such thoughts?” A: Shirota Mahiru. I believe he has changed around the 11th volume, when he stepped out from his uncle’s ideology.

18) Q: What is Lily’s favorite macaron flavor?

A: Vanilla.

19) Q: Is Mikado Ichinose high-school only for boys? A: The Mikado Ichinose institution has elementary, middle and high schools, and the middle and high schools are boys' schools. There are rumors that the school will soon become co-ed.

20) Q: Are there any characters in Servamp who are considered good at art? A: Aside from Higan, Nicco is actually good at drawing.

On the other hand, Crantz has a unique sense of style, although he is not aware of it. Lawless and Guil call him "Master artist Crantz.”

21) Q: Please tell us which characters have driver’s licenses!

A: They are: Dodo, Mitsuki, Lawless (counterfeit), Crantz, Taishi Touma, Tooru Shirota, Tsukimitsu Iori, Tsukimitsu Miyako, Tsukimitsu Yumikage, Kurumamori Junichirou, Tsuyuki Shuuhei (paper driver), Shamrock (before his death), Niccolo, Cappuccino, Sigurd, Pisca, and Youtarou.

(note: Paper driver means inexperienced drivers who haven’t driven for years, or who never drive after they’ve got their driver’s license. )

22) Q: Is Tetsu-kun’s hair color natural?

A: No. He has been dyeing it for a while.

23) Q: I would like to know Mahiru’s mother’s name.

A: It's Shirota Akira. 城田暁 (her name means "dawn")

24) Q: Lawless doesn't seem to have said any theatrical lines since volume 8. Is there a reason for this?

Does it have something to do with the fact that he has become a crybaby? A: For him, there was no need to act anymore.

25) Q: When is it that Tsurugi laughs earnestly?

A: He doesn't think that he isn't laughing earnestly. (This question was difficult to translate because it used double negatives, so the meaning is that "I do laugh earnestly". I hope it makes sense.)

[akvtsuki-ari]

Semantics

Warnings: dom!spencer, sub!reader, choking, throatfucking, dirty talk, fucking through clothes, humiliation/degradation

Length: 5.4k

Authors Note: idk how to explain the plot of this fic all that well but i hope yall like this! by the way, the two positions Spencer puts you in is the prison guard position and the pole positon, in that order i spent some time on it and i hope yall like it lmfaosjdkh

Plot Summary: You and Spencer could date other people but you both knew that it wouldn’t matter in the end. 

There are few things to consider as a universal truth but some things just are. An example of that is here ;the only difference between fucking and making love were semantics. Most things in life are - semantics being the study of meaning in linguistics . As far as our universe knows, sex is an act born only out of necessity and frustration. The need to have sex to make life or the need to have sex because your body was responding to its urges and desires, aka frustration

Maybe in a lot of ways, your need to frustrate Spencer was innate to your humanity. An urge that speaks from generations past. It’s hard to say for sure why it’s happened but you both know how - it’s what has both of you in the place you are now.

Several months ago you and Spencer started hooking up. Casual sex and late night conversation at best, before life picked up any remaining free time and the both of you returned to back to reality. It was a stress reliever, a good time with no strings attached and no stakes involved. You wanted it that way and so did he - but shit always changes. Even when things aren’t supposed to be so complicated they are - because it’s almost inevitable that someone is going to catch feelings. Someone is going to feel something out for the other person or hell - someone else and things are just bound to get sticky and tangled. That’s the nature of casual endeavors - they’re designed to be ephemeral so when the date passes it all becomes complicated. Scintilla, a spark that passes through cold air and then disappears. That’s what hook-ups are intended for but you and Spencer just never figured out how to follow the rules. Neither of you were good at that.

It’s unclear who broke them first - whether your feelings of jealousy were the catalyst for what becomes of both of you. Was it Spencer for indulging her? Was it Spencer’s fault for whispering sweet nothings in her neck when he knew when you were watching? Or was it yours for retaliating? Too stubborn in your own regard to let him win. Spencer wasn’t really one for mind games of this kind but he couldn’t control himself it seemed like. It’s hard to say who started it - two parties indulging in lust-driven pettiness.

Her name started with an S, but you always managed to forget it. She was pretty, eyes low and so interested in Spencer. Her hands would wrap around his shoulders, resting her head on them when he was looking away. She’d drape herself over him at any chance and Spencer would whisper sweet-nothings to her. Laugh with her and look to you, eyes not full of challenge but faux neutrality. Spencer’s neck would always crane to look at her with surprise but you knew better.

It bothered you for a while, but who were you to be caught in a love triangle? He’s the one who had to live with it, after all - every time he was in-between your legs, he’d know she was never you. Still - you weren’t one to give up so quickly and Spencer was waiting on it. Check in 3 moves, your turn.

Imitation is the biggest form of flattery so when you walked into the function with a man on your hip - he wasn’t surprised. He watched the man who followed you in, the way his eyes were all over you. The way you sat on his lap, giving him all your time and attention - stroking his ego just because. You’d giggle at the shared promises, the feeling of his hands on your back. He was gentlemanly with you, carefully paying attention to you and no one else. He was handsome enough to get approached but he’d show disinterest before returning to you. He was moth to flame, but who was surprised? A woman as beautiful as you could do less to achieve that and you just happened to be so much more.

Every work function of any scale, your plus ones would follow you in as you and Spencer would speak to each-other in careful language. It was subtlety that was key because the two of you were the only people who knew that this was happening. It was behind the scenes a love story born of shadows, if you could call it that at all.

Penelope’s Christmas party was the beginning of the end, really.

“How’s Tyler?,” Spencer’s voice is minimal. You were impressed that he managed a name. He looks at you as you pour a glass of wine and you look back, flashing him a smile.

”He’s good. In the other room talking to Rossi and Tara about cars, I think,” you explain softly, wistfully. Spencer looks at the way you talk about him and a part of him seethes. Always does.

“How’s Sarah?,” you ask warmly. You bite your tongue as you talk but it’s killing you. He looks at you, brows quirked smiling back.

“She’s good. Her and Penelope are talking about cats,” Spencer laughs warmly. You hate the way he sounds about it. You want nothing more than to argue with him.

Speak of the devil, you figure. Sarah walks towards Spencer, immediately wrapping herself around Spencer’s side. She whispers something in Spencer’s ear and he smiles, whispering something back before looking to you, eyes full of challenge. You don’t say anything, smiling back at him before you sit up on the kitchen counter. Spencer watches as your skirt hiked up - the garter around your thigh making him... distracted. You just look at him for a second, looking into his expression before getting irritated.

Tyler walks in soon after and you give him a small smile. Sarah is quick to say hello to him and he returns it with ease. He’s polite, always is.

“You ready to go Y/N,” He asks kindly. You give him a grin, wrapping arms around his neck and drawing him in, burying your face in his neck before nodding. He laughs for a second and looks at you as you lift yourself up.

“Weirdo,” he jokes. You scrunch your expression up at him before looking at Spencer. His jaw is tight - you win.

“We’re gonna hit the hay, y’all, I’ll see you tomorrow though,” you say back. Spencer just nods, awarding you a tight lipped smile.

“See you,” his voice is a distant sound as you walk with Tyler.

_____

But, hook-ups were ephemeral, predestined to be anything but long-lasting and in order for things not to get sticky it was only a week after that you and Tyler broke things off. Tyler was too kind for you to let things get too messy. So you didn’t, and for you that was the end of road. Spencer was well... Spencer, still.

The game was still on, but you had no moves for now. You figured for now you just go and have fun, see what happened.

That would work better than you wanted. The next function was Tara’s birthday. She was disappointed that you and Tyler had ended things but was happy to hear you two were friends. You wish you could explain everything else to her but you figure that it’s obsolete.

Spencer was there with Sarah, eyeing you as the both of them sat in the corner. He watched you carefully, not frustrated just... interested.

He catches the way you look to the people around you - listening intently. Your eyes would flash with challenge while you and Luke played drinking games, truth or dare. He watched the way you talked to Luke, confident and excited. He watched the way you danced and ignored him, and it was getting to him more than he wanted to admit.

There was something in the universe that said this was it. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how to explain it. He knew the moment Sarah said she needed to go home, the moment he walks into the kitchen and sees you swaying to music while you poured yourself a drink. The way you talked to him - mostly sober but tipsy enough to just speak candidly. Spencer was in for it, that much was so goddamn obvious now.

“Where’s Sarah?,” your voice is curious.

“Went home, she has a long day tomorrow. For work,” he clarified. You hum in response.

“That sucks, you must be bored,” you say honestly. Spencer shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says back. You look at him curiously, eyes reading his expression that seems so far out.

“She’s sweet,” you say earnestly. You stand next to him, sipping your drink as you stare out. Spencer looks over at you and nods.

“You’d know something about that,” his voice is low. You’re a little startled, but you just pick yourself up to walk out of the kitchen.

“Too soon,”

——

Soon the picture was bound to fall together. Sarah and Spencer ended things - on good terms but it didn’t matter. It was just you and Spencer again, stagnant in an impossible place with impossible ends. Months of jealousy and mind games, combined with stubbornness wasn’t going to end in a way that was pretty but maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe that’s what needed to happen.

Spencer broke first. Months of frustration would do that to a man who fucked you like you were the only woman on earth. It was just a text message, it should’ve been just a text message anyways but how could it be? No such thing as simplicity in this universe the two of you shared, one of jealous reminders and sly comments. All that subtext meant that the build up was that much more impactful.

Spencer: How long has it been?

You: Long enough.

You: Checkmate.

Spencer: Good game, Y/N.

It probably wouldn’t make a lick of sense to anyone else but you and Spencer just knew. You knew what it was - an invitation to come over like you’d done so many times before. It was a recognition that the game was over and it was up to you to reap the benefits of your long-term, maddening and frustrating endeavors.

——-

The drive to Spencer’s house was taking more time than it normally did. You knocked at his door and when you opened it, there Spencer was. He was pretty.

“Come in,” Spencer’s voice was low. The whole environment was thick with an immediate feeling of lust - derived of painfully long and drawn out arguing. It was foreplay in its own right, you suppose.

It was instantaneous. Like the second the door shut behind you, Spencer backed you into a wall - shedding your coat while his hands found themselves underneath your blouse. He hikes your leg up to his side as he looks at you, down into your eyes as his lips and breath ghost over yours. Your breathing is so fast you’re afraid you might pass out. You can’t help yourself whimper. Spencer voice borders visceral.

“You’re gonna drive me fucking insane,” Spencer comments. You hold your eye contact.

“I always was,” you challenge Spencer still. You were determined to piss him off as much as humanly possible because you needed him to own you.

Spencer can’t hold out for another second as his lips press against yours. Open mouthed kisses that are carried over and drawn out, as Spencer’s hands grip your thighs - pushing his hips to yours. He’s so eager to touch you - fuck you over and over again until you’re too tired to speak. Spencer was ready to do things to you that he’d never let himself do before. When his teeth tug at you bottom lip, tongue let reckless along your lips as he kisses you deeper - you know he’s been thinking of you. He’s indulging his own selfish desires by kissing you this way and he knows it. You kiss him back with just as much frustration and anger.

It needs to be everything. It needs to fulfill your needs and desires that have been growing for the last few months and you’ll fuck him till sunrise, sit on his face and disrespect him till he gets it. That he’s yours just as much as your his.

You and Spencer kiss like there’s no oxygen left, but you pull back from Spencer to breathe. Your chest rising and falling as Spencer looks at you - really looks at you. His eyes are full of fire.

“Don’t you wanna talk, Spencer?,” your voice is biting. Spencer rolls his eyes.

“You start,” Spencer comments, picking you up as he buries his face in your neck. You smile for a second as he carries you to his bedroom.

“Was she good?,” it’s your first question of the night, Spencer shrugs as he lays you down. His fingers work to unbutton your blouse, eyes glued to your chest. Lace, it was new but not new enough to be for him. A purposeful move on your part as Spencer’s fingers work their way around your back, unclasping it and letting it fall from your frame. You lift your hands up as Spencer slides it off of you - eyes drinking in the sight of you. He hasn’t seen you on display like this and fuck did he miss it. He doesn’t know where to start so he starts at your neck. Kisses being pressed onto your jaw, you relish the way Spencer’s hands find you. They find themselves at your hips, encouraging them to wrap around his waist which you do without question.

Spencer’s lips are soft, his teeth scrape along patches of skin as you crane your neck up so he can get more room. He draws your skin between his lips, sucking softly before kissing the marks, admiring the broken capillaries underneath your skin for a few seconds before continuing. You almost wanna laugh at how much he adores them and they way they decorate your neck.

“She was good,” Spencer replies to you between actions. You’re a little distracted but you had so much you wanted to know still.

“Better than me?,” your voice is bitter. Spencer laughs, pressing his dick against you, before speaking.

“What if she was?,” Spencer replies back.

“Answer the question,” you demand. Spencer looks up at you as your expression shifts into one much more displaced.

He decided to be honest with you.

“Not better than you,” Spencer responds softly, mouth travel down to your chest. His mouth finds your nipples, his tongue flicking against t back and forth. The wet trail it leaves behind a cold sensation that made you a little dizzy to how easy they came to attention. Spencer’s fingers touch them carefully, brushing against them with rhythm. You moan, shivering at them.

You felt good - but you could feel something missing in the endeavor. Spencer was holding back and you could feel it, slowly reverting back to his old ways by keeping you out of his thoughts and you weren’t going to let that happen again.

“Spencer,” you warn. Spencer’s eyes are glassy, but you sit up to look at Spencer. He sits back on his knees and looks at you as you fix yourself up.

“Don’t do this shit,” you explain carefully. Spencer rubs his face with his hands, not saying anything.

You look at him, your chest bubbling with anger and borderline resentment as he stared at you. His expression is unreadable, as his eyes gaze to your body then flick back up to you.

“For fucksake, Spencer - I’m not doing this. Gimme my shit so I can leave,” you say beyond annoyed. This was one of the problems - that Spencer didn’t have the backbone to just be real with you. Not about how he felt, not about how you made him feel. He always counted on you to force the upper hand but not this time. Semantics required that both of you participate accurately to how you feel and it was always your job. When Spencer sees you move, he holds you back and looks into you. His eyes are dark.

“You’re so fucking aggravating, you know that,” Spencer leans into your neck, his hands on your back as you go to move away from him.

“Clearly not,” you complain. Spencer’s hands come around your neck, both of the around your throat as he forces you to look up at him.

“Color?,”

“Green,”

“You wanna know I’m holding back, Y/N,” he says into your ear. You’re too stubborn to choke out a yes.

“Because you’re such a fucking brat and you haven’t earned it,” He speaks into your ears. You can feel his hands grip tightly around the column of your throat.

“Everytime you open your mouth you manage to piss me off. You think it’s cute to be like that, don’t you? ,” His hands release from your neck as you look at him with suprise, trying to hold back your delight. He unzips his pants and pull his cock out.

”Get on your knees,”

“I don’t want to,” you lied between your teeth. You wanted to suck the soul out of Spencer’s body but you needed him to keep this up.

His hands grip your hair and pull tightly. A gasp escapes your mouth as your eyes flutter up to look at him.

“Funny, I don’t remember asking,” Spencer laughs sarcastically, he leans into your ear “Get on your fucking knees,”

You stand up stubbornly and do as your told, keeping your mouth shut as you watch Spencer stand up over you. He’s intimidating like this, his dick clear over your face. He’s huge, which is good and bad.

“Open,” Spencer asks. Your instinct is to open your mouth and stick your tongue out like Spencer had instructed you to do so many times before but you don’t. You look at him dumbly, watch as he hands cup your jaw, tilting your head to look at him.

“It’s only been a few months and you’ve forgotten where you belong so quickly,” Spencer hums. His hands rests on the side of your face as he looks down at you.

“Tyler wasn’t putting you in your place like you deserve to be, no wonder you’ve acted out so much,” he comments, annoyance clear in his voice.

His thumb presses against your lips, forcing your mouth open. You’re quick to oblige after that, your tongue stuck out as you await Spencer.

“Good girl,” The praise is music to your fucking ears. You knew he didn’t want to say, but he meant it and that’s what mattered. You rub your thighs together, as Spencer hits the tip of his cock against tor tongue.

“Before, I would’ve never done this, but you’ve just somehow managed to upset me so much that the prospect of you interrupting my thoughts is so annoying that I just have to make sure I shut you up,” Spencer explains lengthily.

Spencer eases his way to the back of your throat, his hand on the back of your head as he feels his dick hit the back of your throat. Spencer’s bigger than you remember him being, and the idea that he was going to fuck your throat made you sore, voice already disappearing. You just look up at him, through long lashes and Spencer groans.

“Touch yourself and I won’t fuck you for months,” Spencer warns. You damn yourself for wanting to obey him and doing as he says.

Spencer’s hips pullback before he snaps them back to the back of your throat. You choke on and Spencer relishes in the noise. Tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you managed to look up at him. Mascara runs under your eyes as Spencer falls into rhythm, filling your throat with his length at a constant speed. The sounds of you gagging around it filled the room as Spencer’s voice fell to your ears, spit spilling from the corners of your lips. You move your hands to wipe it away and Spencer’s stops you.

“Leave it, you’re prettier like that,”

Jesus Christ.

“You always manage to make me so angry, and I’m honestly kinda impressed by it,” Spencer says softly, groans mixed with his commentary. You hum for him to continue and the sensation makes his leg twitch.

“You’re just so fucking stubborn. If you would’ve told me you were so jealous, I would’ve ended things immediately,” he admits to you.

“Then Tyler came around and I lost my patience,” he explains, fingers brushing your hair out of your face.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine,” Spencer repeats. You feel your heart melt.

“Seeing you with Tyler was lesson enough, so I’m gonna fuck you until every memory you had with him is shit compared to how I fuck you,”

“Every mark on your body, my dick down your throat - stretching you out when I fuck you. I should’ve know this was what you wanted really,” Spencer quips. You groan around him - absolutely turned on by his possession.

“You’re a slut for me, and me only, right love?,” Spencer asks you, pulling his dick out from the brutal session as you look to him with a bordering disgusting amount of adoration.

“Yes, sir,” your voice is hoarse as you look up at him. His eyes look at you with so much love as he smiles down at you.

“You’re so good for me,” Spencer says softly. He kisses you softly and slow and you could cry from how pliabld you felt.

“Sir, I love you,” your voice was fucked beyond belief. Spencer’s heart melts at the combination of title and sub space. He kisses you softly, petting your hair and wiping your chin of spit.

“I love you too, princess,” He says, making sure that you two talk about it later. “You still want it rough, sweetheart?,” he asks checking up on you. You appreciate the sentiment but you shake your head with vigor.

“If you don’t fuck me like a total brat I’m going to be unbelievably upset,” you say, the sad thought sobering you up immediately. He laughs aloud, kissing you again.

“Okay, what’s your safeword?,” Spencer asks.

“Gren for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop,” you repeat obediently. Spencer smiles.

“Get on the bed for me,” Spencer says softly. You oblige fast, holding your legs in the air as Spencer kneels between your legs. Your legs wrap around his shoulders pulling him closer and he chuckles.

Spencer’s rock hard, thinking about the outfit you chose for him. White cotton panties that left a mess all over your thighs and clit. The stain between your legs makes it hard for Spencer to slow down.

Spencer places a kiss on your clit, swollen and untouched, your cry immediately in his ear, your hands gripping his hair as he places kisses all over your clothed pussy, your skirt pushed over your stomach. His fingers hook into your underwear, sliding them down, and letting you maneuver your legs to slide them off. You go to take the skirt off but Spencer stops you.

“Leave it,” He breathes out. You nod, biting your lip as you feels Spencer lips work around your clit. He doesn’t make you wait long, and you’re not sure whether or not you should be grateful or scared for whats to come. 

Spencers mouth is terribly skillfully, his tongue licking a long swipe - collecting arrousal in his mouth before spitting it back onto your clit. You were a goner before this but watching Spencer do something so filthy really pushed you to the edge. You grinded against his mouth but he pushes your hips down. He uses his fingers to spread you, eyeing how wet you are before closing his eyes - tongue placing long flat swipes along it. Your clit pulsates as he buries his face between your legs - tongue placing minmal pressure it as his head bob up and down. Spencer was so good at giving head it was kind of annoying. He’d draw you close to the edge a few times like that, watching as your legs shake before he slows down again -mpaying attention to your thighs and waist everytime he watched you come down from your high. 

“Spencer, please let me cum - please,” 

“Please what?,”

“Please sir,” your voice escapes you as you hear Spencer chuckles looking at you pathetically. He shakes his head. 

“Brats don’t get to cum so soon, you wanna cum - you have to earn it remember?,” Spencer reminds. You whine at the reminder, immediately protesting. 

“I did earn it, I did,” your argument is meaningless but you wanted to cum - needed to cum and if he doesn’t give it to you soon you were going to cry. 

“Aw, is that so? You behaving while I facefucked you means you earned an orgasm huh? That’s news to me, love,” Spencer says sarcastically. You aren’t sure how you could be more turned on but here you were. Spencer could be so biting when he wanted to be and it drove you up the wall. 

“God,” you were infuriatingly turned on. Spencer strips of his shirt and pants, leaving the both of you in similar positions. You lay in wait for further instructions, but catch Spencer admiring you for a second. You hide your face in your hand and Spencer refrains from saying anything. He wants to tell you you’re so cute and that he loves you but he’s still supposed to be being mean to you - so his hands are tied. 

“Stand up,” Spencer instructs. You oblige, stretching a bit as you do. Spencer comes behind you, pressing his dick against your backside as his voice is drawn next to your ear. 

“You wanna cum don’t you?,” Spencer asks. You nod, chewing the inside of your lip. 

“But, I already told you you have to earn didn’t I?,” Spencer repeats, you nod again. 

“Use your words,” Spencer orders. Your voice croaks out. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then bend over with your hands behind your back and take it for me, will you?,”  Spencer instructs. You do as your told, bending down, placing your hands behind your back. You feel Spencer's hands grip around your wrist - holding you up as he lines himself up at your entrance. It’s a slow, aching burn. Your more wet than you can really fathom being, but Spencer manages to make you feel tight. Every inch of him slowly gnawing you from the inside but it feels so good. It aches so good - you don’t recall the last time you felt this fucking full. Spencer was sunken into you so deeply, it felt like he belonged there. Like every claim about your body is his when he fucks you wasn’t just showy shit-talk but facts, plain and simple. You didn’t really know it could feel that good to get fucked before this and it could’ve been anything that made it so maddening. 

Spencer's hips pound you out. You can’t feel everytime he speeds up, slows down, moves up or draws the gesture out. Your body aches, but the position is so goddamn perfect - hitting your g spot, pressing up against it so forcefully - you feel your legs threaten to give out everytime he hits it. It’s fucking ridiculous - fucking ridiculous how good fucking one person could be but Spencer proved himself every damn time. 

“Wanna fuck you on the bed, love,” Spencer leans down to whisper. You let Spencer rebalance you as you stand up, and Spencer pulls out. You whimper, missing the feeling of him in you, but you soon feel Spencer's arms around you. 

“You’re too pretty to make such filthy noises, my love,” Spencer whispers “But that’s what sluts do, don’t they? Be pretty and filthy all at once,” 

You’re really incoherent. You want to say something that makes sense, argue back and fight with him but your desire to cum so hard you black out is much stronger than any urge you may have had to fight. You don’t know how to do anything but whine, so high-pitched and needy you feel like your voice could crack and disappear. Spencer just laughs. 

He lays down, and awaits you. You managed to get on the bed, facing away from Spencer as you throw your legs on either side of him. He bends his knee, as you turn to straddle his thigh - pressed against your clit. He clenches the muscle and you feel your legs shake. 

“Sir, please tell me I’ve earned it,” are the first words that leave your lips as you begin griding against Spencers thighs, riding his dick to the point your thighs felt like they’d give out at any second. Spencer groans at the feeling of you convulsing, so close to the edge. Spencer just nods. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, of course you can cum for me,” Spencer says lovingly, voice missing any trace of disrespectful strict dom Spencer. Replaced with adoring Spencer in an instant. 

“Fuck, fuck - Spencer, thank you. Oh my god, thank you,” you hold onto Spencer's legs as your orgasm breaks the tension rope that was holding it back. You’re unknotted, the feeling of pleasure clawing at all the aches that appeared all over your body, your skin burning. Your stomach was full of butterflies, all releasing at the same time as your entire body convulsed around Spencer. It was earth-shattering - your body struggling to keep up as you cum the hardest you have in months. It was so fucking good, the type of orgasm that keeps you awake for days at a time.

You breathe out, steady yourself as you slide off of Spencer and get on all fours infront of him. You take his dick into your mouth, sucking on the tip before taking all of it in your mouth. Spencer groans aloud as he finished into your throat, and you swallow without hesitation. Spencer looks at you so adoringly right after, as you crawl onto his chest and lay on him. He wraps his arms around you and smiles at you so brightly, it could blind you. 

“You did so good for me, I’m so proud of you,” Spencer praises. You blush hiding in his chest, looking at him with disgraceful amounts of affection. 

“You ready for aftercare?,”

You nod lazily, before Spencer sits up and whisks you away to the shower. 

___

You knew that you were in love with Spencer a while ago - but until now you hadn’t realize just how much you missed him. His fingers were massaging shampoo into your hair, the shower lightly pouring on the both of you as you made idle and loving conversation. There was a suprising about of things to catch up on. Spencer kissed your shoulders as he continued on. 

“I liked Sarah, you know,” you say softly. Spencer is confused by your sudden statement. 

“I really did - but at the time I just figured we were just having sex so it made me jealous when I saw you with her. I didn’t know how to tell you so I just let it be but it was killing me,” you confess honestly, wiping your nose as you sniffled. Spencer wrapped his arms around your back and kissed your neck - softly pressing kisses to all the bruises from the moments before. You leaned into him and sighed and he held you for a long while. 

“We were never anything more than casual,” Spencer assures you.  You nod, turning around to face him. Your arms envelope Spencer, holding him close to you with your face carefully in the crook of his neck. 

“I know, but still, sex is just sex and the rest is semantics isn’t it,” 

“Well, yeah. It means something to me when I do this to you. You’re my world, so it means I love you. Maybe it looks the same but it feels so different, it feels right when it’s you,” Spencer says sadly. You look up at him tear eyed and he smiles at you. 

“I love you, Spencer,” you say softly. He hugs you and makes you feel so safe. Even after all the words and glances and difficulties Spencer shows you in bed - he gives you twice that in love without question. He makes you feel whole, even when he was the one who unraveled you. He adores you, so clearly and you adore him too. 

___ 

taglist: @cynbx​ @zephyr-studiesjp​ @skrrrrrrrrrrt​ @reid-187​ @louistwinslover​ @nomajdetective​

[ah-kasuna]

Puppetry in a Nutshell // ♥ I ♥

Pairing: SasoDei

AU: Art School

THIS IS THE 1ST PART AND MY VERY 1ST TRANSLATION ;_; I ain’t native speaker, so there will be mistakes I think, so please let me know about them, so I could fix em! Tbh it feels like doin it with the blindfold on, so XD Yeah, forgive me anyway. 

I hope you’ll like it!♥ Let me know what you think please! Love ya!

AND I DEDICATE IT TO @deidaraakasuna, U KNOW WHY♥♥♥

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

Geidai.

The world-famous Fine Arts Academy, located in one of the most charming corners of Tokyo. 

A place that growing artists dream about, perceiving it as a mystical land of inspiration and creativity (until they see sculpture students playing with their own Pony ponies). 

The university to get to is a high-class feat, usually drenched in liters of alcohol and liters of tears in a later hangover. After all, who wouldn't get drunk on this occasion? 

I smiled at the vague memories as I unpacked my breakfast and shook my head fondly. Basically, this sentimental feeling of being an old woman with a bunch of grandchildren has accompanied me since the beginning of my sophomore year, when I watched the freshmen roaming the corridors in sweet ignorance of their fate. Fortunately or not, this intoxicating state faded into non-existent at the end of the first semester as the session approached. And it just so happened that it was just approaching, breaking the will to fight along the way and magically depriving the students of creative inspiration, the one necessary - as you can easily guess - to pass half a year at a group of charming leaders.

My gloomy eyes followed the classroom. Outside the corridor window, visible through the open door, a bird chirped merrily. The weather was beautiful - a typical Japanese spring. The cherries were blooming, scattering fragrant white-pink petals around, and I was rotting at the epicenter of All Evil, like a condemned man aware of what was about to happen. And which happened cyclically twice a week, because my goddamn ambition pushed me to apply for this equally damned university. And so I redeemed my sins before I died, regretting abandoning the idea of ​​self-improvement in the privacy of my modest (but equipped with a kettle and toaster!) Apartment. What more could you want?

I shoved a huge piece of bread in my mouth, which I chewed for five minutes before he graciously wanted to squeeze through my esophagus. A dry mouth like this meant only one thing: my brain finally picked up the information that puppetry classes were about to begin. For my despairing amusement, everyone was rushing to their seats, with shaking hands shoving paints, chisels, and the rest of the necessary utensils out of their bags, as if someone's life depended on the speed of their perfect arrangement on the table. I felt a sudden urge to laugh out loud.

If asked about the reason why the very thought of puppetry gave the vast majority of students sudden symptoms of delirium and depression, the answer would be simple, concise, and more eloquent than the potency pill ads: Hell Cerberus aka Sasori Akasuna. Officially - a lecturer in a terribly heavy and hated subject; in fact - the walking essence of the deepest pits of hell. What was it about him that wherever he went - everyone immediately cut off discussions and silly games? Well, the puppetry professor not only carefully nurtured the art of being laconic, cynical and ruthless. He was devilishly intelligent, even more talented and vindictive and possesive a tons of sophisticated sarcasm, which he liked to apply with the greatest pleasure to me. 

The bell rang. Everyone but me jumped up immediately and Akasuna entered the classroom. As always: in a perfectly matched shirt, elegant pants, a perfectly knotted tie and an equally perfect boredom on the face.

I reluctantly swallowed the rest of my bun, limiting myself to lazily lifting my ass off the chair and making a painful expression. Anyway, I was a loser at the outset, so I saw no point in putting on a similar play as the others, which only maked him sastisfied more. I clenched my fists automatically. Not this time, man!

The professor walked slowly towards the cathedral by stairs, giving the impression of a man who  scrupulously and deeply don't care for this worldly place and time. And perhaps I would even fall for his 'dun-give-a-shit' play, if I had not been marked by his hatred from the very first class. And yet, it's not like I did something to him, oh no. I was simply not susceptible to his mental puppet strings, so I stubbornly disagreed with him on the essence of the art. For him, the highest dimension of beauty were - horror of horrors - goofy make-uped puppets; for me, the art was much less crude carving in plastic materials, where every little movement could fix or spoil everything. And the wood? It was too patient, too tough, hard to work with, unresponsive to the tender touch of trained hands, and it had splinters ...

Everything happened according to the established order. Akasuna checked the attendance, gave an excruciatingly boring spiel about our laziness and talentlessness (noting that exams were coming up), and then had everyone make an individual puppet design. I groaned woefully like the rest of them, reluctantly reaching into my bag for a sketchbook and a set of pencils.

I loved nothing so much as wasting my time gouging dolls. To my left, a class idiot Tobi, wrapped in an orange and black scarf almost under his nose, looked at me as if I was a revelation of heavens.

"Don't even try," I said, feeling what was happening." We'll be kicked out both."

The guy made cat eyes, but said nothing more, and I went to work. I was drawing the lines in concentration, letting my mind wander along the definitely nice tracks, and in the end I turned off mind for good. And I would have been drawing in peace so I'd probably have finished this stupid task if that black-haired moron at the desk next to mine had not disturbed me with his grunts accompanying his neck stretching towards my work. 

It was the end of my composure. I lifted my head from the project and cursed him to the next five generation, supporting my words with a discreet but well-hit kick. There was a muffled groan.

"Kawamoto, shall you explain me what are you doing?" I immediately heard the distinctive, bored tone of his voice and stiffened on my chair. 

The professor was standing a few steps away from me, eyebrows raised and hands folded across his chest.

"Should I take you to the playground?"

"I'm trying to work, professor," I grunted, holding back the appropriate retort and wondering how the heck did he materialized at my desk.

"Good choice of words, indeed." The corner of his mouth curled up in a cynical smile. "Then be that kind and continue your trials in peace, unless you prefer to try at another university."

I felt my blood flooding. Tobi inhaled loudly, knowing what awaited him at the break, and Akasuna leisurely returned to the cathedral, occasionally glancing at me with hideous satisfaction.

I hated him. I hated him most sincerely and most earnestly, with particular emphasis on his physicality, which, despite the sadistic nature, made most of the female students' knees soften and their tongues tangled. Because exactly! He wasn't just a psychopath. He was a disgustingly handsome psychopath who was well aware of this fact and was not embarrassed to make use of it.

Unfortunately, it happened that he accidentaly found out about my moderate interest in the opposite sex, and from that moment he enjoyed torturing me with himself, perfectly guessing my preferences and weaknesses.

"May you rot in these shavings," I drawled under my breath, sticking a pencil on a blank sheet of paper and tracing a busty doll in a ballerina costume on it, with revenge paints 'Miss Sasori' on her exposed ass. And I would probably enjoy this piece of finest art until the end of the class, if I hadn't realized what my "blank sheet" was and why I just sentenced myself to death. I scribbled a porn image of the puppetry professor on the outline.

The bell rang.

"I would like to remind you that today we have the deadline for submitting the presentation plans to pass," his voice occurred to me as if through a fog.

Did I really hoped it would end well? With my heart pounding in the chest, I tore the rubber band out of my pocket, trying to erase the traces of my crime, as I caught above me the distinctive smell of his perfume.

"It was especially to you, Kawamoto," he announced icily, slipping the battered paper out from under my hands with a nimble movement. 

He attached it to the stack of papers he held, without even glaring at it, and left me sitting at the desk with a silent scream of terror on my face.

[vtscasefiles]

Case File 762-4

Trigger warnings: Isolation, suicidal thoughts, violence, blood, depression, animal bites, animal injury, cops, racism, homophobia, conversion therapy mention

A note before reading: I am unsure if I have tagged all potential triggers properly. 

Case Begun: 2/07/20**

Case Concluded: 2/12/20**

Case Locale: [REDACTED], Washington

Marked as Closed, Payment Declined

This is one of the rare occasions where I am perfectly happy not to receive payment for a job. The value of a life always beats cash, period. 

It started a bit...underwhelming, to be honest. There’s a secret message board for Eliminators. It’s not easily accessed, and there’s a rigorous vetting process to even be allowed to view the posts. I was well into my sixth year working before I received an email invite. Since then, it’s become a welcome resource.

The first post on my feed was addressed to me, personally. This wasn’t new, I’ve built up something of a name for myself. I get regular work, but I still can’t afford to get out of this shithole apartment. I mean the door doesn’t even fucking lock. And the fucking “landlord” is so strung out on cocaine that -- 

[Editor’s note: Personal information revealing where VT lives followed. I have removed it for her safety.]

Anyway, the post was simple enough: a werewolf gone berserk. It’s not an uncommon thing, a new werewolf can take to the wolf too much. The wolf takes over and, feeding off of the human’s anger or indignation, attacks. First, it’s everyone who hurt them. Second, they attack their family. After that...it’s a bloody free-for-all.

Let me preface by saying I hate these hunts. It’s no different than putting down a rabid dog, honestly...the human is too far gone and the wolf operates entirely off of the residual rage. Even so, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t like killing anything living, even if it’s lost it’s mind. 

I read the post three times before I sighed and closed my laptop. “This is why I like dealing with the dead.” I said, frowning. I’d be needing silver. Which meant spending money. The reward was good, though...so it’d cover any expenses. I packed up my gear (a wolf’s bane lotion, a femur from a dead wolf and a silver knife) and headed for my first stop: Ramona’s.

Ramona Torrez has been my best friend since...ever. She was born in the states to Mexican parents who’d settled here in the nineties. They’ve both returned to Mexico since, but they come to visit fairly often. Mama Torrez was more a mother to me than my own was, and she’s one terrifying lady. A powerful witch in her own right, she’d made her then boyfriend her familiar through a series of spells and incantations that bordered on the black. His physiology changed, as a result. Despite being in his mid sixties, the man’s barely aged. He’s stronger, faster and has more stamina than any human I’ve ever met...not to mention he’s an absolute sweetheart.

Ramona is possibly the most gifted witch I’ve ever met. If there’s a spell she can’t do, I’ll eat my boots. Her shop is a little hidden place. Right on the corner of [REDACTED], she’s very open about what she does. A small sign dangles over the door reading “Bruja” . I pulled open the door, hearing the cheerful jingle of the bell (despite there not being one in sight. Or a motion tracker.) “Welcome!” she called from the back. “I’ll be with you in a moment!” I said nothing, opting only to pick up my friend’s familiar and give her a stroke.

It always makes me laugh, honestly. A witch with a black cat as a familiar. How cliché can you get? Issy’s a sweet thing, though. Purrs like an engine if you so much as scratch her ears. “VT!” Ramona appeared with a wide grin on her freckled face. “Why didn’t you say it was you, dummy?”

I’ll preface that, despite my father being Hispanic, I never had the opportunity to learn Spanish. He was always busy on one hunt or another. Ramona’s tried to teach me, so that I could get in touch with my roots...but languages never came natural to me. Hell, I barely speak English.

Ramona rattled off her usual rapid Spanish, taking Issy from my arms. “You know I can’t understand a word.” I said as she turned to lead me into the back room. Her shoulders shook and she looked over her shoulder with a coy grin.

“Oh, I know. Payaso.” 

If Ramona hadn’t been my best friend, I’d likely be trying to get under her dress. She’s a curvy thing, with a heart shaped face and big brown eyes that’d melt even the coldest of hearts. She dimples when she smiles (something I’m immediately weak to) and does this adorable thing with her nose when she’s irritated. Her hair tends toward bushiness, framing her face like moss on a tree. (To my knowledge she doesn’t dye it, it’s just...green.)

“So, darling.” she chirped, stopping next to her cauldron to let Issy dash off through the fabric drapery that led into her kitchen. “What is the illustrious VT hunting today?”

“Berserk werewolf. Probably recently turned...and probably not by a pack. I’m thinking boyfriend or girlfriend. Which means -- “ She cut me off with an uttered curse.

“Which means that you’ll have to get in touch with the local werewolf pack.” she finished with a grimace. “Where’s the contract taking you?”

“Washington state. Little town called [REDACTED].” I answered, not expecting any miracles. I was granted one, none the less.

“Ah. That’s a Native American pack. I met their um...I’m not sure what the proper vernacular is, so I’ll just call her a witch, if that’s okay?” she said, worrying with her lower lip. Ramona’s always been very big on calling people their proper titles, and felt terrible guilt when she messed it up.

“She the Alpha? Or an elder?” I asked, seizing upon the thread before Ramona fell into self-deprecation.

“Well...yes and no.” she said, pouring something into the burbling cauldron and turning it a sickly puce. “She’s something of a Seer. She led them to an old, abandoned ghost town. They asked for witches from all over the continent for assistance in warding and rebuilding. Naturally -- “ “Naturally, Bleeding Heart Torrez helped.” I cut her off, again. She frowned and nodded. “Hey, Ramona, I ain’t saying you did the wrong thing. I’d have done the same. Are they friendly to outsiders?”

“Kind of.” she said, her frown relenting for a thoughtful expression. “You’ll likely be met by an envoy before you make it to the town line. I can call ahead, if you’d like. Let them know that I trust you so they won’t be on full alert.” she smiled, slightly. “Just don’t...shoot anyone that you don’t have to. Okay?”

“I’m not in the business of killing people just trying to live their lives, Ramona.” I said, pulling a frown of my own. “I might be trigger happy, but I’ve never shot anyone who didn’t come after me, first.”

“I know, I know...they can just be a little wary with outsiders. You can hardly blame them.” she said, carefully. I agreed with her, but I didn’t like the implication that I just ran in like some idiot waving my gun around and shooting at everything that moved.

I only do that sometimes.

I stayed long enough to catch up and have some lunch. Ramona’s cooking was always amazing. Her carnitas is to die for, full stop. With my belly full and my paranoia subsiding, I made for Ellie’s. It was time to see if the corpse had any silver.

Elinor Lyktor is a lich. She “died” at some point during the eighteen hundreds. Stomach cancer. She was already a necromancer by then, so when she felt her end approaching...she made a bargain with Death. The way she speaks about the “Lady of the Void” is how some people speak about their chosen deity. But how many of them have actually spoken with their god? Or had her over for tea? 

Elinor’s shop was in the dead center of town. The signboard above her shop proudly proclaimed “Ellie’s Emporium”. Her front was an antique shop (all her possessions from when she was alive litter the front of the store). When I entered, her bespectacled gaze caught mine. Even indoors, if she was minding the shop, she wore sunglasses.

“Valerica.” she greeted, pushing from her stool and smiling, marginally. “Lock the door.” I obeyed. What else do you do in the face of a being that could force your skeleton to come clawing out of your body?

“Elinor.” I responded with a nod. “I’m looking for silver ordinance. .44 if you got it.”

“I do. Got a werewolf problem?” she pulled off her sunglasses. Her eyes were pitch black. The only light in them came from the faintly glowing, multicolored runes that slid across them like leaves on a still pond.

“Not a problem.” I responded, coolly. “Ramona’s got me an in. I just don’t have the identity, yet.” I paused, thinking that maybe I should be a little warmer to my primary ordinance merchant. “How’s the lady?”

“Which lady to you speak of?” she asked, grinning cattily. “The woman I will make my wife, or the Great Lady of Dusk?”

Fuck, she loved her puffery.

“Do you just make up these titles or did Death give you a list?” I asked, grinning. It got a laugh, so I’d say that Operation Butter Up the Lich was a success. 

“No, I only use them to annoy her. She’s teaching me a lot, VT. I’d love for you to come over and meet her someday. Isali is a rather sweet woman, if you can get past the fact she’s Death.” she said, earnestly. “Did you know she has a son? And he has children, too? I wasn’t even aware she could reproduce.”

That was enough to get my attention. “Death...has a kid. Okay, I’ll bite: what’s his name?”

“I don’t know. She only refers to him as “my darling boy”. The only thing I’ve figured out is there has to have been a point in history in which no one died. The only way I think she could have had a child is if she took on mortal guise and -- are you even listening?”

I was. Oh, I was. I admit that I was wrapped up in the thought of how DEATH had a SON. He must be one terrifying, austere motherfucker, that’s for damn sure. “Sorry, I was just thinking about what kind of man her son has to be. Gotta be some kind of...demigod or something. Having a mother like Death.”

Elinor shrugged “She described him as being an absolute goof. Dotes on his kids, overtly friendly. I’d like to meet him, someday. It looks like I’ll go wanting, though. He lives in a world beyond ours. An extra dimensional being.”

Now it made sense. I wanted to follow that rabbit hole down to the end. I still want to. But business beckoned and I had no choice but to end this intriguing line of thought. “As interesting as this all is, I still need bullets for something more mundane. Can you cut me a deal?”

“Depends on the volume, Valerica. If you want an armory’s worth, I can’t help you...but if you’re just looking for a few boxes, well...” she smiled. “How does fifteen bucks a box suit you?”

“It doesn’t.” I responded immediately. “I’ll give you five.”

I left her store after securing my ammunition. She drove a hard bargain, but I managed to talk her down to ten dollars a box. I had five boxes, each containing twelve bullets. If I couldn’t finish the job with that, then I was in the wrong line of work. 

Now, it’s a little known fact that a werewolf and a rugaru are two separate entities. They both conjure the vision of this half-wolf, half-man meat tank that tears through the opposition like so much wet paper. That particular creature is a rugaru. Not all werewolves are rugaru, but all rugaru are werewolves. The rugaru transformation is only possible under two circumstances: complete acceptance of the wolf that dwells within, or the complete degeneration of the werewolf’s human mind due to unchecked homicidal urges. It isn’t a fine line or any of that bullshit that other people have perpetuated. It’s a simple matter of willpower. If I was dealing with a rugaru, it’d mean real trouble. I could only hope this werewolf was still on four legs.

As Ramona had promised me, I was barely five miles down the dirt road that led into our little werewolf commune before I was stopped. He was a tall, impressive specimen. Fine bone structure, inky black hair brushed neatly into two, thick braids that were decorated with beads and feathers...what really threw me was his smile. It was welcoming. Not a normal sight for me. I killed the engine and stepped out into the morning air, then man walked forward and extended a hand “You must be VT. It’s a pleasure, truly.”

I took his hand and shook it. I felt the tell tale calluses on his palm in the shape of paw pads and smiled, this was the right place. “Glad to be of help. I hear there’s a berserk wolf on the loose.” his smile faded.

“Yes.” he replied, simply. “My son’s boyfriend.”

Swish. Called it.

“That’s unfortunate.” I said, bowing my head in respect. “Is there no hope of helping him cope?”

“I’m unsure.” he responded, looking thoughtfully at the thick forest that shadowed the road. “We’ve tried, but...he’s so angry.” he paused, his gaze returning to me. “I apologize, VT. I haven’t even given you my name: folks around here call me Thunder. You’re welcome to do the same.”

I nodded and smiled “Anything you say, Thunder. If you have another name that you’d prefer to go by, I’ll do my best not to butcher it.” he’d laughed, a booming sound like his namesake.

“Thunder suits me just fine.” he said, kindly. “We can continue our discussion back at the compound. Would you mind if I rode with you? I can tell you about our lifestyle while we ride.”

I gathered that Thunder was the Alpha of this particular pack, given how he spoke about his friends and family. The pack had started on a reservation, but wanted a place of their own. The reservation was abandoned in favor of the Seer’s word there was a place of their own. They all turned in the dead of night and disappeared. No one knew where they’d gotten to, save for the SC. They were completely self sufficient. Hunting and fishing for food, growing their crops in soil blessed by their spirits and making their own clothing. Back to basics, he’d said. I could see the appeal.

“You got a free house I can post up in or...” he’d laughed at me.

“We don’t have internet, power or running water. You might get sick of it pretty fast, hm?” he’d nudged me and broke into that same booming laughter that caused my eardrums to ache.

He’d stopped me just outside of town, where two, tall totems stood on either side of the road. “Stop here. Your car will die if you cross.” he said, stepping out of the car. “I’ll introduce you to my son, VT.”

I killed the engine and stepped out, reaching behind the seat to sling my backpack over my shoulder. One of the two totems stood out. Each of them was carved with delicate care and beautiful in their own right, but the one on the left was the most interesting to me. It was Ramona’s work, I knew the feel of that anywhere. “Torrez did this, didn’t she?” I asked, brushing my fingers against the carvings. “Not the design, but the ward.”

“You’re close to Miss Torrez?” Thunder asked, pausing to look at the totem. “Yes. Spent a week solid working on it. She even refused payment, only asked for one of my wife’s blankets in return.”

“Do you...deal with cash?” I asked, feeling the slightest bit insensitive.

“Rarely.” he responded, eyes still on the totem. “Some of us have work in a town nearby, certainly...there are a few things that trading can’t get us. Gasoline. Generators.”

That threw me and I frowned “Thought you said you didn’t have power.”

“We don’t.” he responded, simply. “The generators are for the Elders who didn’t leave the reservation.”

Well, good to know I’d been here all of twenty seconds and already taken a big bite of foot pie. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think -- “ “You don’t live like us. Why would you?” he responded with a somewhat bitter smile. “No reason for me to take offense or for you to feel guilt, VT. Though your apology is...appreciated.” the last word felt forced, but I said no more.

The town was pretty enough, each house painted in accordance to the occupant’s taste. Designs swirled and jerked in eye catching beauty across the wood or brick. Thunder led me to a single-story ranch type home and beckoned me inside. He called for his son in his native tongue and a beanpole of a boy appeared. I say boy, but he was at least eighteen or nineteen. “Introduce yourself.” Thunder said, sternly. “You’re the cause of this mess.”

“Thunder.” I broke in, sensing the tension between father and son. “You know better than anyone that the change is unpredictable...it isn’t his fault.”

Thunder’s stare turned on me, and that friendly gaze was gone. If I’d been made of gentler stuff, I might’ve even backed away. “I’m not upset he changed his lover, VT. I’m upset because his lover is giving us a bad name, and he doesn’t seem to care.”

“Excuse me for caring about my boyfriend, Father.” the boy spat. Even in children, or teenagers...there’s always respect for the Alpha Wolf. To hear the vitriol in the young man’s voice told me one thing: there was going to be a power struggle here one day. “VT, I heard about you from Ramona Torrez.” he said, with much less anger in his voice. “Please...Dorian never meant to hurt anyone. He didn’t even know what I was doing and...please, don’t kill him!” tears were welling in this young man’s eyes. I couldn’t help but be sympathetic...but I still had a job to do.

“Dorian’s his name?” I asked, humming beneath my breath. “I might be able to call him out using that information. But I’ll need your name too, kid.”

Thunder’s son puffed up “I am no child! I am a man grown!” he said, indignantly. 

“A grown man doesn’t make decisions for his loved ones.” I shot back. “He makes decisions with his loved ones.”

He deflated marginally. “My name is...Crow Flies. He called me Crow...” he said, no longer able to meet my eyeline. “Please, VT...I...”

“I get it, kid.” I said, softly. “I won’t kill him if I don’t have to. I promise.”

Thunder took me from his home and introduced me to the rest of the pack. They were a kindly people, if a little wary of an outsider like myself. Thunder’s presence helped with their misgivings, but only slightly. “You did well with Crow Flies.” he said, softly. “Miss Torrez had described you as a hot head, but even so...you were very patient. And there was wisdom in your speech.”

Despite myself, I flushed. “Well, ah...I’ve had good teachers.” I said, trying not to grin. “Say, Thunder. After all this unpleasantness is done, could I come back? Just to visit. I like it here.”

That seemed to surprise the Alpha, he looked at me and then smiled “I think that I would like that. I think the pack would, too. Once they see that you are here to help, of course.”

I had dinner with the pack, as they all dined together in the center of town (or the old town hall, when the weather was foul). It was a raucous affair, full of song and laughter...Crow sat off by himself. Alone. I thought it best to leave him be. The boy was going through all kinds of heartbreak. The last thing he needed was another lecture.

It was late by the time dinner wrapped up, and I’d gathered a bit more information about Dorian. He’d been cast out by his family due to his sexuality, and taken in by the pack. They’d kept their lycanthropy secret from him...that is until Crow Flies turned him. Thunder had even had a family portrait taken of the three of them. Dorian had to have been at least Crow Flies’ age, if not a bit older. He was dark skinned, his hair styled into a small afro. What struck me the most was his smile...there was such...kindness. Love. It twisted my stomach into tight knots.

I made a promise to myself then and there: there were enough gay, Black men dead. I was not going to contribute to that number.

Even if it killed me.

No one “hunts” a werewolf. You see these self-styled vampire/werewolf hunters enough these days...and they’re all absolute pricks. Worse than that, they’re murderers. I’ve had to kill a couple of them, to save an innocent life...but when you murder someone just for their differences, you’re the monster. The point is, no matter how many berserk werewolves you’ve encountered it all boils down the the same fact: they’re the hunter, you’re the prey.

I applied a thick layer of the wolfsbane lotion to my skin. It wasn’t going to stop a werewolf as much as it would overwhelm their sense of smell and taste. Silver weaponry only works because of a simple fact.

Have you ever heard of a tulpa? It’s...a sort of group hallucination made real. The basic principle is if you believe enough in something, it manifests as reality. The more people who believe, the more stable a tulpa is. Silver is a sort of pseudo-tulpa. A mass belief of silver being a weapon against lycanthropy has made it reality. That’s the power of belief.

Problem being is I didn’t know whether the mass belief here was that silver kills...or simply incapacitates or weakens. I had to be careful. I had to leave Peace behind. If I wanted to save Dorian, I couldn’t rely on firepower to do it.

[Editor’s Note: A rarity for VT. Coherent thought.]

Dorian’s hunting ground had been, as of late, his own home town. His first victims were his parents...hardly a surprise. Poor guy had to have felt betrayed, and was angry for it. Researching the case, they hadn’t been eaten. They’d only had their throats ripped out. That was a good thing and a bad thing. If Dorian wasn’t eating his victims yet, that meant there was humanity left in him...but he’d tasted blood, and he’d want more. I didn’t have time to dally, I had to act.

I drove straight to his former home.

The house had been cordoned off by police tape. As anyone sane does, I ignored the warnings put forth by the police and ventured inside. The carpets were stained with blood...it meant there was a struggle. A vicious one from the looks of things. Dorian might not have even been in wolf form when it started.

I ventured deeper into the house, searching for any kind of clue. There was Christian iconography all over the house, which explained why he was thrown out. It was getting harder and harder to feel anything but repulsion for the dead, sanctimonious pricks. Throwing their own son out just because he’s gay...I related entirely too much.

I found Dorian’s bedroom without much struggle. Posters of his favorite sports teams hung on the walls, along with musicians and actors. I felt a creak in the floorboard beneath my foot, so I crouched and tried to pull on it. It came up effortlessly.

Hidden within was a notebook, a small bag of cosmetics and a pressed flower. Probably from Crow, I thought. I didn’t read a lot of the journal, but from what I did read it was a chronicle of his self discovery. I admired him for the bravery he showed in facing who he truly was, but the thoughts were private. I closed the journal and replaced it, along with the other items. Those were his and not mine to take. If...things went badly, I’d come back and give them to Crow.

I approached the bed, and got a deep whiff of wet dog for my trouble. He’d been here. Recently. I pulled the sheets back and found what I’d expected: fur. He’d even been sleeping in his own bed. This was good. This was very, very good. If he still sought out human comfort, he was still in there.

A sudden creak and the sound of footsteps sent my heart into my throat. I had no weapon, no way of defending myself against a hungry werewolf. The air was probably thick with the scent of wolfsbane by now...I did the only thing I thought I could.

I stood and waited.

It wasn’t Dorian. It wasn’t even a werewolf. I felt my stomach drop into my shoes as a uniformed police officer appeared, flashlight in hand. “Who the fuck are you? This is a police investigation zone, bitch.”

My hackles raised, but I raised my hands, showing I was unarmed. “I’m a Private Investigator. My license is in my jacket pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” I tried to keep my voice calm, but clearly this pig thought I was being belligerent. 

“Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!” he snarled and approached, stepping forward to shove his hand into my jacket. Thankfully, he went straight for the pocket instead of feeling me up, like I’d been dreading. He looked at the fake license with his mean, piggy little eyes. “They hand these out to anyone, huh?” he said, pure malicious glee in his voice.

I said nothing, keeping my hands raised and waiting for an actual question. “So, you think you can do this job better than us?”

“No, sir.” I responded, shaking my head. “I’m only looking for their son. He has a right to know, even if he hasn’t been living here. I was hoping to find a clue and didn’t want to trouble the police department for something that’d only take a few minutes.”

He laughed, cruelly “Well, that’s earned you an arrest, Valerica Torianna.” he said, gleefully. “For interfering with a police investigation. You have the right to remain -- “

The next thing I heard from the officer was a scream. I hadn’t even heard the wolf enter. The wolf, lean and black as pitch, leapt atop the cop and dug his fangs in. Blood sprayed my face as the pig’s throat was torn from his neck. The wolf didn’t chew. Didn’t swallow. Just spat the flesh and sinew clean out. Then it turned it’s eyes on me.

“Dorian?” I asked, softly. It’s hackles raised. “Dorian, I’m a friend of Crow Flies. You know who Crow Flies is, don’t you?” it backed away, and I took a step towards it. “Dorian, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want to help...Crow asked me to help you. Please.”

It snarled...and it lunged.

For anyone wondering if I’ve turned lycan: no. It’s not as...simple as just a bite. I don’t quite understand it, but it has to be an actual, conscious thought. Dorian would have had wanted to make me a werewolf. It didn’t seem he was quite accustom to the change to be able to make conscious decisions. He was only defending himself from a perceived threat.

That didn’t stop his fangs from tearing my forearm open, though.

“Fuck!”, I yelled as it’s teeth dug in deep and ripped my flesh. I had my fair number of scars, but this one would be a doozy. That’s alright. Girls dig scars...well, my type does. Not trying to generalize or anything. Anyways, I was bleeding. A lot.

“Dorian, let go!” I yelled, feeling my bones practically screaming in his jaws. “You’re gonna break my fuckin’ arm!” I balled my fist and started to hammer on his nose with all my might. Nothing. “Dorian, brother, I’m real fuckin’ sorry about this!” I grabbed onto his throat with three fingers and squeezed. He started to choke.

I released him the second his jaws released me. “Sorry.” I croaked, holding my arm against my chest as the wolf wheezed. “Will you -- “ he was gone. I’d blinked and looked at my arm for a half second and he’d up and bolted...leaving me with a dead cop, and his blood all over my face. It wouldn’t matter that he had lupine saliva in his wound, it’d mattered that his corpse would be discovered next to me. So, I bolted.

I returned to the pack’s commune and staggered past the totems. Blood loss was already making my head spin, and I needed medical assistance. Problem was I still had cop blood all over me...so a hospital was out.

I passed out before I could even get to Thunder’s door.

When I woke up it was still night...or night, again. Ramona’s heart-shaped face, her hair sticking up all over the place was looking down at me. “Ah. An angel.” I wheezed. “So, I’m dead.”

Ramona flushed and slapped my chest “Idiota!” she squeaked. I laughed weakly. “You scared me! Thunder called and said Crow Flies found you half-dead! Your veins were torn to shit, VT! You could have died!”

“So just another day at the office then?” I sat up and my head immediately began to swim. “Shit.”

“Lie down, VT. I did what I could, but you still lost a lot of blood. I’ve dealt with your clothes, and Issy brought back your fake PI license. Sloppy, Valerica. Very sloppy. You would’ve been caught if not for us.” she said, standing from my bedside and straightening her dress. “You owe me.”

“Add it to the tab.” I said, pushing to my feet, doing my best to ignore just how sick I felt. “Dorian’s still out there. I can’t let him succumb, I can’t. The world has enough murdered Black men...let alone gay Black men.” my conviction was strong, but my body...

I was wrecked. I could barely stand, let alone run or fight.

“The pack is dealing with him, now. He’s...becoming unstable. I’m sorry, VT, but there’s nothing left for you to do.” Ramona said, hanging her head. “He’ll be killed before sunup.”

Like. Hell. I knew where he was nesting, now. I knew what I had to do. I had to go back. I had to beat them to Dorian’s old home. “Ramona. Think you can drive really, really fast?”

“VT...”

“I’m not taking an L on this one, Ramona. I won’t. I know how Dorian feels, I’ve lived his life. I won’t let it end like this.” Ramona looked at me, tears in her eyes. “What? What is it?”

She smiled and wiped her eyes on her forearm “Who’s the bleeding heart, now?”

Ramona broke just about every traffic law in existence getting me back to Dorian’s home. I’d been unconscious for two days. During that time the pack had met and decided that the only way they could stop Dorian was to kill him. He’d gotten more violent, more reckless. His kills were happening in broad daylight, now. Three cops, a high school teacher and a pastor. None were eaten, but all were killed, viciously.

“He’s attacking those that wronged him.” Ramona said, softly. “He has the power to fight back...he’s losing himself in it. I’m afraid the pack might be right...if he keeps going like this...”

“He won’t.” I snapped shut the cylinder on my weapon. “Crow will never be able to look his father in the eye, let alone forgive him, if the pack kills Dorian. If there’s going to blood spilt...I’d rather be the one hated.” I said, softly. “But I’m going to try, one last time, to get through to him.”

I didn’t go beneath the cordon tape, this time. I went through it. Thunder didn’t know where Dorian lived, thankfully, only the town he lived in. Ramona had agreed to go and ask them to give me my last chance. I had to make it count.

“Dorian!” I bellowed, the instant I rammed through the tape “Dorian! My name is Valerica Torianna! I’m like you! My mother cast me out on my own when I came out to her!” I shouted as I sprinted towards his bedroom. “I know you’re angry! You deserve to be! You deserve your revenge, but you’re going to be killed if you don’t -- “

There he was. Eight feet tall, jaws dripping with blood. He’d lost the plot. He’d lost his humanity. He was a berserk rugaru, now.

“Shit.” I cursed as lupine eyes met mine “Dorian? Dorian, please...I can’t fight you. I won’t fight you. Please.” 

I was thrown, bodily, through the drywall. Luckily, I didn’t hit a stud or wiring...but I could feel shards of something embedded in my back. Peace was still in her holster, so I pulled her free as I struggled to my knees. The rugaru kool-aid’d through the wall after me, eyes full of bloodlust and rage. I aimed my weapon and pulled the hammer back.

A second rugaru exploded through a window and slammed Dorian bodily to the floor. The pair rolled, biting and snarling and clawing across the floor. More than once I had to scurry out of the way of the battle to avoid catching a flying claw or misplaced bite.

Who the fuck was the second rugaru!? Was he a friendly? Was *he* enraged? Fuck me sideways, I had no idea what was going on anymore! All I knew is I was suffering from blood loss and losing energy by the second.

CRRRRRRRACK.

I turned, just in time to see the second rugaru, deep brown fur covered in blood and wounds, ripping Dorian’s jaws apart and ripping his heart from his chest. “NO!” I screamed, feeling tears streaking my face. “Goddammit, no! Fuck!”

When a werewolf dies in lupine form, it’s body shrinks. The wolf leaves its body, free to roam the great hereafter, while the human husk remains. All that was left of Dorian was a pale skinned...wait. Dorian was(?) Black...this mutilated corpse was white.

What the fuck.

The second rugaru threw it’s head back and howled in victory...and turned on me. “Who the fuck are you?” I said, voice trembling. “And who the fuck did you just kill?”

The rugaru was shrinking, but collapsed before the change was through. I tore my jacket off and draped it over him. When you lose mass that rapidly, you lose body heat, too. If a werewolf doesn’t have something to warm them after a rugaru transformation, they could easily suffer from hypothermia. I rubbed the dark skin that was rapidly loosing fur. “Dorian? Dorian, is that you?”

“Yeah.” came the soft rasp. “Yeah...my name’s Dorian. Who the fuck are you?”

“My name’s VT. I was hired to -- “

“Kill me?” he cut me off and glowered at me with hate filled eyes. “Just like my parents wanted?”

“No! Fuck, no! I was thrown out by my mother after coming out. Like hell I’d kill someone suffering from my same pain.” I said, quickly. “I was hired to try to help you. By Crow Flies’ dad.”

Dorian stared at me, untrusting...but soon looked back to the corpse. There was such hatred in his eyes...it made the glare he aimed at me look positively tame in comparison. “That thing was a pastor. A pastor at one of those...those...” he wretched.

“Conversion therapy...” I hissed beneath my breath. Suddenly, I was hoping the corpse would get up, again. Just so I could have the pleasure of killing him, myself. “You gave him what he deserved.”

I successfully returned Dorian to the pack. He wasn’t ostracized, but welcomed. He had gone berserk, just as the job posting had claimed. He’d killed his parents and their pastor, but no one else. After he’d had his vengeance, he regained himself. He hid, feeling such guilt in his heart that he never wanted to see anyone again. 

Poor kid.

His reunion with Crow was a sweet one, they’d wept and kissed and held each other so tightly I was sure I could hear joints cracking. I couldn’t help but feel accomplished for what I’d done. The rugaru he’d killed, one Peter Edwards, had been a werewolf for years. Hiding in plain sight...and killing those that couldn’t be “saved”. He couldn’t nail down Dorian, so he tried to frame him. He’d be martyred...if not for one, little thing.

“Oh, I burned his corpse with the rest of the house.” Ramona said, forcing a cup of coffee into my hands. “What went on there was no one’s business, anyway. No one’s but the pack’s. And yours, I guess.” she’d said, cheerfully. “Thanks.” I sipped the coffee. Possibly the best tasting coffee I’d ever had. “Dorian saved my life. I don’t think I can accept payment for this one.” I said, smiling. “I’m happy it turned out the way it did...still...it’s impressive that a new werewolf found the rugaru so easy to control.”

Dorian broke away from Crow and approached me. “Miss VT?” he said, timidly. “I just...I wanted to say thank you. Crow said that...that you wouldn’t kill me. That you were against it from the outset.” he stuck out his hand “I...thank you.”

I took his hand, feeling those same calluses I’d felt on Thunder’s. “I should be thanking you, Dorian. You saved my ass.” I grinned and squeezed his hand. “You have a family now, brother. You’ll never have to feel alone again.” he smiled that same smile, so full of kindness and love, that was in the portrait. “Take care of yourself, Dorian.”

Thunder caught me as I was climbing into my car. “You forgot your payment, VT.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Ramona said you wouldn’t accept, but...” “But nothing. All I did was run around in circles. Dorian’s the hero here, Thunder.” I said, pushing my sunglasses onto my face. “But hey...if you really wanna give me something...this job ruined my jacket.”

I received a gorgeous, handmade jacket in the mail a few weeks after. My initials emblazoned on the back in golden thread. I wouldn’t be wearing this thing on jobs, but...maybe I can get it framed.

Yeah. That’d be pretty killer.

Case closed.

[atopearth]

Piofiore: Fated Memories Part 2 - Dante Falzone Route

Hmm maybe Dante's route will answer why Lili seems to be so important to the Falzone and the church? Is she a descendant of the people who were tasked by "angels" to create this church and thus led to the creation of the Falzone or something? I wonder how Orlok is involved though~ Interesting to see Dante personally come to the church to protect and save Lili even though I doubt Orlok really meant any harm. Loll at Dante though, he seems like such a silly awkward boy that doesn't know how to properly communicate with others, he wants to keep her safe in the Falzone estate but doesn't even properly tell her that he intends to do that and just kinda assumes it by giving her a room and everything lol. Honestly though, I feel sorry for Lili, although she's being "protected", it's practically as if she's been kidnapped since she's not even allowed out of her room, and no one from the church or wherever is supposed to know that she's here, I would feel so uncomfortable if I was her. I guess at least she tried talking to Dante about it, too bad he refuses to say anything😪 I love how Leo is such a pure and earnest soul though, he is so kind and sweet to Lili, he tries so hard to help her too, it's nice that Leo is such an understanding and thoughtful bodyguard.

Lmaoo when Lili made a silk rope and tried to climb down the balcony to escape. To be fair, I would risk doing the same thing, Dante really isn't helping the situation by hiding everything from her. The CG of Dante catching her when she fell is so pretty though! I knew that Dante was hiding how the people were doing at the church because something happened to Sister Sofia but I didn't expect her to have died... Awww it was so cute how Leo thought Lili tried to run away because he was stuck to her 24/7 loll, he gives her so much space, there's no way he's overbearing! He's such a good boy🥺 especially now that she's not eating after finding out what happened to Sister Sofia, so he's trying to find a way to get her to eat. I love the suggestion of getting Nicola, Leo and Dante to eat with her to try and motivate her in a way. Too bad Dante didn't do it, but it's nice to see Nicola spending time naturally chatting with her and eating with her, I think eating together with someone really helps to make the food easier to take in. Omgg, Leo is such a cinnamon roll, he even took time out to buy her books and flowers since he felt bad that he didn't have permission to eat or do anything with her🥺 Ohh, Dante told him to get the gifts for her! Hahaha, omg, he's so cute🤣 It's actually kinda funny but so sweet how attentive and efficient Dante is. She just told him that she's a bit lonely since Leo has been busy and he tells Leo to get her a kitten the next day lmao. I'm actually impressed at how good he is at thinking of gifts to help her be more comfortable here. Dante's gentle expression patting the kitten was so comforting, I loved it. It was also nice to see Lili finally properly cry over Sister Sofia's death with Dante consoling her by rubbing her back🥺 Oh okay, I thought Sister Sofia dying was weird, but I didn't think that Dante would lie about such a thing to Lili especially knowing how important she was to her, I'm not surprised Lili felt betrayed. I'm glad Dante sincerely apologised for lying to her though.

HAHAHA, I loved how when Nicola was flirting with Lili and seemed to be coming on to her, she just shoved him away and ran off lolll! Although I'm happy that Leo is so considerate of Lili to bring her to the church whenever they have a chance to sneak out, it's obvious that something is going to happen now that she's out hahaha. As expected, the Lao-Shu are on the move for her, but I didn't expect Yang himself to be here for her. Omgggg I never expected to hear about Gau Lung Seng Caai aka Kowloon Walled City in here, I guess it would make sense for Yang to come from there since it was basically fully controlled by triads back in the day~ It's kinda worrying that Orlok can invade the Falzone estate and get to Dante so quickly loll, on the other hand, Orlok is a disciple of the church? Ugh, I wanna punch Nicola, like seriously, it's come to the point where they're running away to hide somewhere others don't know about and Nicola STILL insists that no, Lili shouldn't know anything because it's a secret and who knows if it's true since it's so long ago blah blah. Honestly dude, it's not important whether you think it's true or not, the truth is that people like Yang are going after her because they find value in her being the Key Maiden that can unlock the seal to the sacred relic (kinda the symbolic thing that gives the Church power in Burlone since back in the day). They obviously know that her life is in danger because of this, hid it from her all this time "because it's for her own good" when really, they're just treating her like a literal key they can drag from place to place to "protect" disregarding the fact that she's a human and has her own emotions and thoughts. And what? Nicola wants to blame her for sneaking out? Excuse you, yeah she's wrong, but don't make it sound like you guys are right for basically locking her up in the manor without telling her anything important. Like yeah, the Falzone are the guardians protecting the sacred relic and her so of course they know their mission and stuff but there's a huge difference when you know something and when you don't, being kept in the dark just makes everything worse. Honestly they could have just made up some lie to her instead.

Oh how interesting, they even have Disciples like Orlok to monitor the Falzone to see if they're properly fulfilling their roles as guardians?? That kinda seems...silly? Like, why don't you share protection of the relic instead? Also, how do you even know if they're properly doing their job or not? Like, you need the pure Falzone blood (and that's why they're so adamant on the importance of pure Falzone blood) to open the seal and get to the relic but you don't need it to protect it? But I guess there's more to this~ Anyway, Dante blushing on the sofa when he woke up with Lili nearly tripping down on him was cute haha. I'm not sure if I missed it though, wasn't Carlo the cat supposed to stay at the manor? Lmao at Dante being bad at household chores, at least he tried I guess. Yeah, Nicola likes to cause trouble huh? Now Lili thinks Dante is only nice to her because she's the Key Maiden, which is a legitimate worry, but it is pretty slack of her to avoid Dante when he's earnestly trying to approach her and understand what's wrong lol, I feel bad for him.

Like, I don't want to call the Falzone family weak since I feel like depending on the route and stuff, the story "makes" them weak when they want to so that the story can go whichever way they want but c'mon, laced wine that Nicola and Dante didn't notice? I'm surprised they fell for something like that. Nicola is definitely in on it, and Dante is careless lol. But then again, I feel like all our Mafia bosses here make questionable decisions too so I'll just roll with it lol. It was so heartwarming to see Dante so relieved to reunite with Lili and confirm that she's safe. Others can act as the Key Maiden??? So what's the point of Lili then...? Just more convenient? Anyway, the Falzone sure fell in reputation faaast from a newspaper report about corruption with police blah blah, like um, you knew they were Mafia so obviously not everything is going to be all colourful with rainbows, and it's so hilarious how the townspeople can just treat people like Giulia like shit now, excuse me, but I'm sure if Dante and them wanted to, they still have the numbers to oppress you guys, he's just too nice spoiling you all and you tread on him like that after he treated them so well over the years. Ungrateful people. Anyway, their confession was cute, but it sure took a long time for Lili to properly assess her feelings and be honest about her thoughts, but I think Dante being frank about his thoughts was the highlight. A bit like an explosion of all his feelings, his inadequacies, his worries and everything, it's nice that Lili was beside him, because I'm sure Nicola betraying him always hits him hard. On a whole though, sometimes I find it kinda funny how Yang is the only one Mafia-like in that he's actively trying to gain more power and territory, whereas Gil and Dante are pretty chill with the situation (as long as the power balance stays I guess) aside from the troublesome Yang guys lol.

Hahahaha okay, I thought I was vulgar for thinking that Dante and Lili needed to have sex for her "mark" as the Key Maiden to become prominent as needed for the seal (according to Emilio) but to think it really was that!! Okay, funnily, I didn't expect the sacred relic to actually be Jesus' dead body which apparently refutes all the church's teachings since Jesus would be seen as a "normal human" that died, which for me feels kinda silly? I'm not sure what the general consensus is and I never realised that Jesus' body was "stolen" or just cannot be found, but I guess I never really thought that when Jesus died, his body disappeared? I always assumed that Jesus "came down to Earth" and died for our sins in a mortal body, so obviously if he dies, the body will remain but the soul and the spirit or I guess the Holy Spirit leaves and kinda forms the Holy Trinity again? Anyway, I don't know my Bible stuff anymore so I'm not sure anymore, but for me, I feel like this "revelation" is pretty weak and honestly shouldn't be able to undermine the Church but that's just my opinion lol. Anyway, I love how after all that, Yang is just like I'm gonna kill you guys because he hates the Church anyway and he's lost most of his men so he's got nothing much to lose anymore so he might as well take them down with him, I feel like Yang is so random sometimes but I'll roll with it since it's much more amusing to watch him haha. Honestly, I feel so sad for Orlok dying to protect Lili when I feel like she never really saw him for how kind he was, and now he's being relentlessly stabbed by the crazed Yang that's probably on drugs. On the other hand, this might sound crazy but I like this ruthless Yang and I feel like I'm finally seeing a bit of the terror and bloodshed I expected from a game about the Mafia hahaha. Anyway, I'm glad Lili shot a bullet into the air distracting Yang and allowing Dante the opportunity to kill him, I think Yang would be satisfied with that since it seemed like he was just looking for an entertaining way to die. I'm glad that Nicola properly apologised to Lili for his crappy attitude towards her lol.

Well, the best ending was definitely more plot than romance, and I'm honestly not a fan of the plot here haha, it was more boring than I thought. Anyway, that made the romance part have less time so yeah..but seeing Dante propose to Lili was still cute haha. I actually prefer the good ending much more, it felt like it was straightforward, simple and sweet without the unnecessary plot haha, I also liked how she decided to stay at the church and didn't feel like she was ready to leave and stay in his manor with him yet, which is very understandable imo and I liked how they are spending more time properly bonding instead of living in those moments so focused on protecting her and everything. It felt much more natural. Honestly, Nicola dying by Dante's hands to protect Lili in the tragic ending was expected, and it was sad since Nicola always wanted the best for Dante and he's right that the Mafia will slowly become more and more redundant as time goes by, but I think Dante accidentally killing Gil and Lili going into a coma to protect Dante was really unnecessary. It just basically took away the impact and focus on Nicola's death that should torment Dante forever and tried to make it as "tragic" as possible but it just made me not care about it lol. Especially since Lili is in a coma, Dante will focus on that instead of the fact that he killed his best friend and his "brother" with his own hands and I think that's much more tragic than what happened to Gil and Lili.

Overall, I like Dante’s character more than Nicola, but I can't really say I cared for the story here either haha. It's nice that there were answers to the questions about the plot such as the Key Maiden etc, but the reveal and everything was more boring than I thought haha, so sadly that was disappointing. Otherwise, I think Dante and Lili were pretty cute. But I think I enjoyed the beginning of their relationship more, mainly because it was nice to see how they both worked hard to try and spend time with each other, get to know what the other likes to support them and other things like that, it felt really sweet. But once they moved into the hotel together, I don't feel like much happened and they just kinda got together because that's how it is? I don't know, guess the later parts didn't live up to the vanilla of the beginning haha, CGs were super pretty as usual though~ I do like Dante as a character though, like he can get a bit frustrating at times for being the moralistic Mafia boss but it suits him, and I guess it's nice to have someone like him who is seemingly cold but probably feels the most "feelings" out of the others haha. I think it's pretty cute how Dante has known about her since he was a child and always thought about her even though it was unnecessary lol. Anyway, tbh, I kinda prefer crazy Roberto than the actual plot lolll.

[weedle-testaburger]

Jamweek Day 1: Bed & Breakfast

I’m probably not gonna be the only one doing how I assume their bed and breakfast meeting went down, but I’ve been thinking about it since the finale and I thought it’d be cute to do! @jambudweek

Steven was awoken by the familiar chimes of Connie’s ringtone from his phone on the bedside table. He groaned and picked it up, and was immediately greeted by a chirpy, “Hi Steven!” “Hi,” he replied in a tone he hoped wouldn’t give away that he’d been asleep until about thirty seconds prior, but suspected absolutely would. “How did you sleep?” asked Connie jokily. “Pretty good,” mumbled Steven, giggling. “Great! Just say the word and I’ll go get Lion,” Connie replied. “OK,” Steven answered. “Is it OK if that won’t be for a few minutes?” “Of course! I can wait as long as you need, don’t worry.” “Awesome, see you soon then!” Steven put down the phone and groggily dragged himself out of bed. Remembering the enormity of what he’d done yesterday, how sad everyone was to see him go but how proud they were of him for doing this, and of course that he was getting to see Connie again today, lightened his mood as he dressed.

By the time he got to brushing his teeth he was half-tempted to just rush things and message to Connie that she should come over here right now. But he knew it was better to be patient about it, to take care of himself and make sure he didn’t force people to take things at his pace rather than his own. Once he had everything cleared up, though, he rushed back to the bed to grab his phone and text Connie, “Ready when you are!”

He grabbed his things and dashed outside the B&B, staring out at the view while he waited. The bed and breakfast wasn’t far outside Delmarva, just a few miles into Keystone, but given how little he’d left his home state or really even Beach City before now, the subtle differences in the surroundings stood out to him.

His focus was broken by something decidedly more interesting- a pink oval portal opening up to one side of him, with his friend emerging from it atop a large pink lion. As Connie dismounted, Steven stroked Lion’s mane and snout and giggled as the big cat purred deeply, before turning to his partner once she was safely down and hugging her. “Nice to see you again,” he said quietly. “We saw each other yesterday, you know,” she chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s always nice to see you again when we’ve been apart,” Steven grinned. Connie blushed a little at that and took his hand as they walked into the B&B together.

Peering through the breakfast menu, Connie wasn’t exactly sure what to pick. “All this stuff sounds pretty good, I kinda don’t know what to choose,” she admitted. “How about you?” “Oh, I have a pretty good idea, actually,” Steven grinned. “How does together breakfast sound?” Connie looked at him a little confusedly. “I thought that was your specialty?” “I’ve come up with a way to improvise,” explained Steven. He reached down to a plastic bag he’d taken from his room, and pulled out a couple of strawberries, a can of whip cream and popcorn. “Oh, good thinking!” said Connie. “You sure they won’t mind us adding stuff to ‘em?” “Well, they said if we want we can take it to the room, so probably not,” Steven smirked.

Once they were back in there, they prepped their breakfasts. The waffles and maple syrup were already done, of course, so they just had to add the whip cream to the top, sprinkle on some popcorn and add their strawberries. “Maybe yours should’ve been a biscuit?” Connie teased. “Now I wish I’d checked to see if they did biscuits!” laughed Steven. “I hope this is gonna be alright, though.” “I know it’ll be,” smiled Connie. She was right. As they munched through their waffles, she decided now would be a good time to check on Steven. “So, did your trip go alright? You seemed kinda quiet after you texted,” she asked. “I was just kinda wiped out from it all,” Steven admitted. “Thanks for giving me that tape, by the way. To be honest, whenever I hear songs by the person who did that song we played at the roller rink, I still think of you.” “Aww!” Connie blushed pretty hard at that. “I’m glad you liked it.”

She continued eating her together breakfast a bit more slowly, pondering whether she should pry more into his mental health. “Um… are you worried about the trip at all? It’s OK if you don’t wanna talk to me about this, obviously, you’ve got a therapist for a rea-“ “Honestly? Yeah, kinda,” Steven replied, cutting her off. She held his hand and looked him in the eyes as he spoke. “I really wanna do this, of course I do. But going so far from home on my own worries me a lot too. It’s kinda both for the same reason- I have no idea what to expect. This could be the most amazing and happiest few months of my life, or the most boring and saddest! And I feel like if I keep wanting to tell you guys everything, you’ll get bored of me bothering you.” “Steven…” Connie took Steven’s other hand, and smiled earnestly at him. “What did Garnet tell you? She said whatever happens, we’ll all always be there to support you, and we love you. And that goes for me too. If you’re bored and you wanna talk to me, I’ll always be happy to hear from you. Even if I’ve got something on, I’ll just tell you at the time and talk to you as soon as I’m free. Even when you don’t have much to say, I still enjoy talking and hanging out with you.” “Really?” Connie nodded, and Steven blushed a bit. “Thanks, Connie. I’d give you a hug, but I don’t wanna drop this breakfast,” he giggled.

“You want to talk about anything else?” Connie asked once Steven had taken another bite. “If it’s OK.” “It’s always OK, Steven.” “OK…” Steven swallowed hard. “I kinda feel like, I’m scared that if I end up just coming back to Beach City at the end of all this, I’ll feel like I failed? And, I mean, I gave my room to dad, I turned down Bismuth offering to make me a place to stay… don’t you think they’d be mad if in the end I turn around and say I like Beach City best?” “This trip doesn’t have to be about finding somewhere new to settle unless you want it to be,” Connie pointed out. “And do you really think with how much everyone misses you, they’d be angry if you came back?” “I guess not,” Steven chuckled, remembering just how torn up the other Crystal Gems had been about him wanting to go. “Also, honestly, if you need to come back to Beach City, um…” Connie blushed a little. “I’d really love to have you. I still remember how nice sitting with you and watching the snow fall when we were kids was. If we got to do that again someday, I would love that.” Steven blushed too at the memory. “You know what? Even if I don’t come back, I promise, someday we’re definitely doing that again,” he grinned. The two of them kissed softly.

Setting down their emptied plates, Connie had a brainwave. “Steven?” she said. “Hm?” “We could always do something kinda like watching the snow right now.” “How do you mean?” “Well, you know how you were worried about getting bored on the road, right?” Steven nodded, and Connie cuddled him, the two of them lying together to face the window of the B&B room. “Tell me about all the stuff you like that’s different from Delmarva.”

Steven thought for a moment, and then started going through things. “I guess I like how the nature in Keystone looks kinda different? It’s still foresty like bits of Delmarva, but the kinds of trees and the cliff faces and the way the lakes and rivers look, it kinda stands out to me as different. Whenever I used to leave home, it’d usually either to other cities like Ocean Town or Empire City that I could see in photos anytime, or alien planets that were nothing like Earth at all. It’s kind of nice to be able to notice that more. Does that make sense?” “Of course,” Connie smiled. “Wanna keep talking?” Steven did, and he rambled like anything, occasionally wondering if he was making sense to get a sweet nod confirming it from Connie. As he moved on to ideas about where he wanted to go, and the landmarks he wanted to see, Connie continued to listen attentively, and when he invited Connie to talk about her ideas for colleges and courses, he did the same, both of them trying their best to understand each other’s ideas for what they wanted to do in their own time while enjoying each other’s company.

Somehow, getting the time from one another to think and ramble all they wanted seemed to make time stand still for a while, and the only part of this that felt real- or needed to feel real- was their being together.

[unexpectedreylo]

Here It Is:  My Spoilerific Review/Post Mortem of TROS

When I saw The Last Jedi two years ago, the movie haunted me for days, for weeks, for months.  It inspired the imagination, dragging me into the world of Reylo and reassuring whatever reservations I had about the post-Lucas sequel trilogy.

The Rise of Skywalker haunts me too but more in a “Demon House” kind of way.  It fires up the imagination, but more in the sense that it keeps you up at night thinking of all of the ways it could’ve been better.

This isn’t to say I hate the movie.  I don’t.  It’s not even entirely or mostly bad which is what makes it extra frustrating.  You can laugh your way through a total disaster like “Cats” or “The Room” but a movie with plenty of promise and of talent behind it that makes some bad decisions is tragic.  Especially since this is the closing chapter to a trilogy and the saga itself.

You can see there are bones for what could’ve been a really good, maybe even great movie.  One of my favorite parts was the opener where Kylo Ren literally descends into hell/the underworld to confront the devil for no other reason than he didn’t even want Satan above him, a man who serves no gods or devils.   (That right there is a classic Byronic hero.)  Exogol is a great haunted house/spooky setting.  The revelation that it was Palpatine manipulating him all along was a shocker and makes Ben’s story that much more poignant.  I also really liked the contrast with Rey’s introduction, a beautiful shot of her in the verdant forest floating among rocks as she’s meditating.  She is Persephone in her element (which makes the ending all that more baffling but don’t worry, I’m getting to that).

This sets the stage for the revelation that the two are part of an intriguing concept, a Force dyad, kind of a Star Wars version of soulmates maybe even twin flames.  The two just had to acknowledge the feelings between them, reunite, and take out the Sith trash while Rey finally confronts her own dark side.   I don’t mind the latter concept at all because with the trilogy’s thickest plot armor, I think it’s valuable to put her in some peril and to have her better understand Kylo/Ben.

Abrams also wanted to recapture the feel of 1980s blockbusters like the Indiana Jones films or The Goonies, both made by his old mentor Steven Spielberg.  That’s most palpable when the Space Scoops Troop, er “trio,” falls into quicksand and pokes around an underground cave looking for one of the film’s many MacGuffins.  Abrams does good set pieces and powers them along with snappy dialogue.  Like TFA, it’s peppered with some genuinely funny scenes.

If nothing else, you can’t blame the cast for any of the film’s problems.  Everyone does the best they can with what they’re given and the long-standing chemistry between various pairs (Adam and Daisy, John and Oscar, Adam and Harrison Ford for example) do a lot to serve their scenes.  I think Oscar’s best scene was when he confesses to Leia lying in state that he doesn’t know if he can be the leader the Resistance needs.  It’s an honest, human moment.  Daisy continues to infuse Rey with her natural luminance.  I particularly liked the few quiet moments she has, such as meeting the children on Pasaana or healing the snake.  It shows her compassion and foreshadows healing Ben.

Daisy does pretty well with what she is given about struggling with her dark side.  (Remember, she didn’t write her own screenplay.)  Maybe it’s unpopular to say this but I kind of liked her brief turn as “Dark Rey.”  I have no doubt had she turned dark she would be pretty scary.  Her desire for revenge and fear of her own nature--driven by genetics or not--were intriguing concepts and I thought she tried to make the most of it in her performance.

Ah Adam Driver.  God bless that man.  He brings his considerable A-game 100% of the time no matter what and it shows.  He could sell sand on Tatooine.  I have no idea why they put the mask back on him other than a marketing department decision as I suspected, but taking it off when he’s making his appeal to Rey before she leaps out to the Falcon carries a gravity few people can pull off.  His reconciliation with Han was one of the film’s highlights.  For once the repetitive nature of the script actually worked in TROS’s favor, as Kylo retraces his steps in that fateful scene from TFA and finds a way to clear his conscience.  I also think this was originally meant to help the audience forgive him, especially since right after this he renounces the dark side.  Which makes later choices baffling, which I’ll get to.  Driver’s shiniest shining moment though is when he is once again Ben Solo.  Deprived of dialogue for the rest of the film other than “ow,” he nevertheless manages to convey a different personality that is very much Han Solo’s son.  His fight scene is right out of a 1970s martial arts movie, imbued with determination and sass.  I want to see a trilogy about THAT guy.

The Reylo scenes are, well, until it goes south, wonderful.  Some of us would’ve  preferred a lot less fighting but I see it as mostly Rey trying to deny herself and Kylo not being sure if he really wants Rey to turn to the dark side.  (On that note, I wish we’d seen Rey’s vision of sharing a throne with Kylo rather than just hear her talk about it.)   As I predicted, the turning point of the relationship came after the lightsaber battle on the Death Star wreckage.  I find it interesting that Kylo hesitates to kill Rey--partially because of his mother’s influence--and it’s she who could’ve killed him.  She immediately recognizes the dark side was turning her into something she didn’t want to be and nearly costs her the man that deep down she loves.  She heals him completely and along with her confession that she would’ve taken Ben’s hand, his soul is nearly healed by the power of love alone.  Which makes the film’s later choices baffling.  If you think about it, Ben’s turn is even more dramatic than Vader’s.  Vader chose his son over the Emperor at the last minute, some inkling of his light still there shining through at the right moment under duress.  Ben flat out rejects the dark side of his own volition.  That is pretty powerful.  Which makes the ending far more painful.

Rey and Ben’s one big romantic moment was tender and sweet and that was a pretty good kiss.  We finally get to see Ben’s big toothy grin.  Even though we all hate it, Driver did an amazing job conveying first his sorrow over Rey, then his relief, his joy, his love, and finally his strength leaving him.

Visually, the film looks great.  I think J.J. did an even better job shooting this film than TFA.  Adding to the visuals is the fabulous art direction.  They hired supervising art director Paul Inglis immediately after his previous flick Blade Runner 2049 came out, and that decision paid off.  This leaves the film with a number of beautifully-rendered scenes, whether it’s the haunted house scary underworld beneath Exogol, Kylo Ren’s starkly white quarters, the landscapes of Pasaana, the stormy seas around the Death Star II’s wreckage, the shot of Rey hesitating in the Star Destroyer’s hangar before leaping out to the Falcon, or Rey meditating among the floating rocks during her introduction.

I liked D-O and Babu Frick.  I even liked the lady who complimented Kylo’s helmet.  

Where do I start having problems?  The first time I saw the movie the scenes with Leia didn’t bother me but the second time I saw it, it was far more apparent they wrote around the bits of footage they had left.  It was a valiant effort to make Carrie Fisher part of the last film she never had the chance to perform in but it didn’t feel organic.  Since Leia dies during the movie anyway, I don’t know why having her pass away offscreen in between TLJ and TROS is less merciful to the audience than having her body lie beneath a sheet for half the film.  No wonder Billie Lourd skipped the premiere of this flick.  I couldn’t take it if it were my mother either.

On my second viewing, the Resistance base scenes started to get on my nerves.  Maybe it’s because I got tired of looking at the same group of like 10 people over and over.  Maybe I was annoyed that the only purpose of those scenes was to earnestly spout exposition.  Now, exposition is important.  I’m surprised Abrams, notorious for not bothering with it even if it’s necessary, even did this much.  But there was something about George Lucas’s Rebel base scenes that made these people look and act like guerrilla soldiers.  Maybe it was Lucas’s experience shooting films with Navy guys as a student, or his documentary style.  Abrams’s Resistance behave more like college students and activists than soldiers.  

But TROS’s biggest problems lie in its breakneck pacing and its writing.  Parts that should’ve had greater emotional resonance don’t because it moves along too fast.  I would’ve sacrificed one of the set pieces/action scenes or chuck one of the pointless new characters for the sake of deepening the relationship between Kylo and Rey or showing us more Ben Solo.

Some of the characterizations seemed off.  I know a lot of fans are deeply unhappy Rose Tico didn’t get to do much but I was surprised to see her in it even to the degree she was there.  What gets me about the whole Rose thing was her relationship with Finn is totally forgotten FOR NO REASON.  Really, why drop it?  There was no narrative purpose for doing so!  

General Hux is totally wasted in this film, reduced to little more than a cameo.  Sure it might be a surprising twist that “I am the spy!!!” (LOL) but his reasons for it are totally OOC.  He might despise Kylo Ren but to the point of helping the Resistance?  This is the guy who cheerfully blew up the Hosnian Prime system and wanted to blow up more.  He’s evil, a psychopath, a true believer in the First Order.  He might give the Resistance a tip that would result in embarrassing Kylo Rey and use that to start a coup against him but just helping the Resistance out of petulance and spite?  Nah.

Poe tries in this film to be a combination of rogue and deadly earnest idealist, but you generally don’t find those two qualities in the same person.  One second he’s talking about smuggling space dope, the next second he’s saying stuff like “Good people will fight if we lead them!”

Finn, God love him, is reduced to largely running around yelling, “Reeeey!” and eagerly trying to tell Rey something but the film never really got around to what it was.  It wasn’t until a Q&A session that Abrams revealed Finn was trying to tell Rey he was Force sensitive (something that should’ve been developed over the course of the trilogy).  Abrams had time to show us a random lesbian kiss for representation points, but no time for Finn to tell Rey he was Force sensitive?  Huh?

The story not only contradicts the previous films--I wonder if Abrams even saw his own movie TFA much less anything else besides the OT--it contradicts itself throughout.  Palpatine’s return is never really explained and his motives with Rey keep changing.  MacGuffins are added on top of MacGuffins with side missions thrown in.  Chewbacca is blown up then he’s miraculously alive on another transport we didn’t see.  Abrams and Chris Terrio didn’t just add to Rey’s origins, they blatantly spackled over it and TLJ’s overall message.  Discovering one is of evil origins is a gothic storytelling trope but really, it should’ve been developed since the first film so it doesn’t feel like whiplash from something else.  Everyone keeps telling Rey don’t be afraid of who you really are, but Rey ultimately does nothing but run from who she really is.  With each reversal, retcon, or contradiction in the film, it leaves a mess.  We’re supposed to believe Rey was better off sold to Unkar Plutt than be with her not-so-bad parents?   Who the bloody hell had sex with Darth Sidious?  You mean to tell me Luke and Leia knew all along Rey was a Palpatine but they never bothered to say anything and somehow they had more confidence in her than in their own flesh and blood?  Oh while we’re at it, I noticed the second time I saw the movie they straight up gave away Ben’s death before it happened!  WTF?  “Leia saw her son’s death at the end of her Jedi path.”  It seems like Luke and Leia were resigned to Ben’s fate as some horrible destiny that couldn’t be changed but Rey was still an open book to them.  That’s so stupid and really fellow OT fans, how does this respect our childhood faves?  Han comes off as the only decent person in this thing.

Rey and Ben taking on the Emperor was a great applause moment, the dyad unified against the ultimate evil.  For the most part it was fantastic...until The Yeetening.  Two things annoy me about the remainder of the conflict against Palpatine.  One, Rey and Ben should have destroyed Palpatine together.  If Rey could do it on her own then what the hell did she need Ben for?  He could’ve sat out the rest of the movie at Starbucks and remained alive while Rey killed Palps on her own.  There’s no point to their combined power because it wasn't necessary.  Two, while poor redeemed I-turned-back-to-the-light Ben was crawling up the pit with no help from anyone, every good guy we ever knew of in Star Wars, even from the cartoons, is giving a voice over pep talk to Rey.  (It seems cheap too since we don’t see the characters.  Avengers Endgame did this kind of thing far better.)  How about if the pep talk was given to the BOTH of them?  That Anakin Skywalker, the man Ben had idolized, had time to say “wakey-wakey” to his tormentor’s granddaughter and not his own grandson is appalling.  The third thing is while Darth Vader defeated Palpatine with the love for his son and his long-gone wife, Rey defeats Palpatine simply with power.  Rey and Ben’s love for each other could’ve been the force that defeats the Sith once and for all but for some reason it doesn’t occur to Abrams and Terrio.

I could’ve forgiven most of this--the jar of Snickles and all--had they got the resolution right.  But they didn’t.

ROTJ and ROTS’s endings were masterful.  ROTJ gives you an idea of what trajectory our heroes were likely to follow:  Han and Leia were going to end up together, Luke was going to bring forth the next generation of Jedi.  ROTS sets up Obi-Wan on Tatooine, Yoda on Dagobah, Leia on Alderaan, Luke on Tatooine, Darth Vader on a Star Destroyer, and poor Padmé on her way to Star Wars Heaven.  I have no idea what happens to Finn.  Maybe he’ll train with Rey.  Maybe he’ll go to college.  Maybe he’ll backpack through Europe.  I have no idea.  His story just stops.  Same deal with Poe.  Aside from getting shot down by Zorii, what’s he going to do?  The film gives zero indication.  It goes from the Free Hugs session to Rey squatting at the old Lars homestead.

The biggest crimes though occur to Ben and Rey.  Ben’s death sucked all of the air out of the film.  Yes, it’s beautiful that Ben loved Rey so much and so selflessly he was willing to surrender his life for hers.     It’s beautiful that it never mattered to Ben who Rey was, whether it was “nobody” in the last movie or the granddaughter of his tormentor/enemy in this one.  Had the Palpatine concept been there all along, there would’ve been something sweet about healing the rift originating in the prequels.  But I wanted Ben to live.  I wanted for once for someone to address the issue of atonement but Terrio and Abrams were too lazy to bother.   If The Grinch could be redeemed AND find atonement with those he wronged in a 30 minute Christmas special with commercials, then why not Ben Solo in a 150-minute movie?  

I could have lived with a sacrifice arc though had it been handled correctly.  But they flubbed it big time.  The sacrifice isn’t honored at all.  He just dies, he vanishes as Leia’s body vanishes, and he’s “never to be seen again.” Or mentioned.  Rey barely reacts on camera.  It’s as though reviving Ben from certain death, choosing good over evil, making a valiant attempt to save his girlfriend armed only with a blaster, and giving his life for hers weren’t valued by anyone.  The movie didn’t give a damn.  When Vader died in ROTJ, he at least had final words with Luke who then burns Vader’s remains on a pyre.  We see Anakin restored to his true self join the Force Ghost crew at the end of the movie.  We got none of this with Ben.

It’s also the most frustrating and disappointing disruption of a romantic arc since 1980′s “Somewhere In Time.”  In that film, Christopher Reeve travels back to 1912 and finds true love with Jane Seymour.  Everything is going great and Reeve’s character has made the choice to stay in that time and marry Seymour.  Then he pulls out a 1979 penny and is sent “back to the future” as Seymour screams.  At least that film though had the decency to reunite the love birds in the afterlife.  Which might explain why the movie still has a cult following to this day.  Tragic love stories always make sure there’s some kind of catharsis for the audience.  Rose takes Jack’s name, lives her life as he asked her to do for him, tells his story, and reunites with him when she dies.  Romeo and Juliet are united in death and the healing of their respective houses begins.  Even Padmé got a state funeral and had the legacy of her children.  There was no such catharsis for Rey and Ben.

Rey ends up right where she started:  alone and in the desert.  She got the Dorothy ending, there’s no place like home.  But the difference is Dorothy is a child not yet ready for the big scary world and the answers to her problems weren’t out there but right where she was.  Rey is a grown woman.  She should’ve been treated like one.  Instead she is deprived of her lover/soulmate and while such a separation should have been painful, it doesn’t even register.  She has a “found family” but they’re not there with her.  She’s in a home others tried to escape from, haunted by ghosts instead of being among those she loves.  Taking the Skywalker name seems tacked on, as though they realized if the name is to live on somebody needed to take it.  Why not then just have made her Han and Leia’s or Luke’s daughter in the first place?  It’s worse when you remember it’s a Palpatine who’s usurping the name.  Or when you realize she’s still hiding who she is.  

Here’s what would’ve been better.  Rey tells the Resistance about the pure selflessness of the Skywalkers and she wants that to be the core value of the new Jedi going forward, where every new student was going to learn their story.  Then we see her anywhere but Tatooine, happy and surrounded by students of all ages.  Maybe Finn training too.  She sees the approving Force ghosts of Leia, Luke, and Anakin.  Then Ben, clearly a different entity, materializes beside her.

Or something, anything other than what we got.

It’s as though they kept making story decisions without giving any thought at all to their implications.  They tried to do too much while being lazy about it.  They went for expedience--copy pasting ROTJ when convenient--over meaning.

The ending accomplishes what no other Star Wars film has done to me in 42 years of being a fan...it broke my heart and fulfilled my worst suspicions about where the ST was going to end up, largely due to its deflating ending and terrible denouement.  It leaves for me and many other fans a big gaping open wound, not closure.  

Ultimately the sequel trilogy’s biggest flaw is that there clearly was no plan.  What we got was a billion dollar game of exquisite cadaver with no real design for characters, their arcs, the story, or even what message these films are supposed to have.  Every decision was based on the director’s own ideas along with corporate meddling.  So we get conflicting ideas and blatant spackling over what the last director didn’t like. Was Kylo Ren meant to be a guy we love to hate or a lost boy we want to come home?   Was Rey a heroine we can all aspire to be or a lost princess of darkness?  What the hell was the point of Finn or Poe?  What does this add to the saga overall aside from more stuff?  Who are these films even for, old OT fans or young fans?  I believe it’s this lack of a plan that has generated so much confusion and bitter internet wars among fandom.  

[lithalwrites]

Semester Seven

“Why do you have a million tabs open?” Kasamatsu asked Kuroo. There were so many tabs open that it was a wonder Kuroo could tell what any of them was. Kenma was sitting beside Kuroo, typing out some code, and at Kasamatsu’s question, he glared at him as if to say he shouldn’t have brought it up.

“I have too much to do,” Kuroo replied.

“What the hell? It’s the first day of the semester,” Kasamatsu said, knitting his eyebrows. “What could you possibly have to do already?”

“Listen,” Kuroo said, and then stopped, opening yet another tab.

“Listening,” Kasamatsu said.

“I’m looking at potential supervisors for graduate school,” Kuroo said.

“Oh, right. You’re graduating.”

Kuroo looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “No need to rub it in,” he said.

“I’m not rubbing anything anywhere,” Kasamatsu said. “You’ve got time. Deadlines aren’t until later.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to get so much busier later on. Classes, thesis, being a TA.”

“Oh, you got the position? Nice.”

“Thanks.”

“Senpai, you’re back!” Kise said excitedly, emerging from the bedroom. “Kuroo-san, why do you have so many tabs open?”

“Ask your boyfriend,” Kuroo said, and proceeded to ignore Kise.

Kise looked expectantly at Kasamatsu, who rolled his eyes. “He’s freaking out about his life.”

“Oh, right. You’re graduating, aren’t you, Kuroo-san? Are you two going to break up if you end up going to a different school?”

Both Kenma and Kuroo simultaneously paused at whatever they were doing and turned to stare at him in unison. It was kind of creepy.

“We’ve been dating since high school,” Kenma reminded Kise.

“But you weren’t that far from each other, and it was just one year,” Kise said. “Kuroo-san seems like he’s going to be in school for a while still, but you don’t want to do that, do you?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Kenma said, and turned his attention back to his laptop.

“Did you have something to tell me?” Kasamatsu asked Kise.

Kise frowned for a second and then his face lit up. “Yeah. I got into the class!”

Kasamatsu stared at him blankly, the words meaning nothing to him. “What class, Kise?”

“Beginners’ French!”

“Why the fuck do you want to take beginners’ French?”

“So he can sweet talk in French,” Kuroo said. “Now, can you two go away? I’m trying to read this paper. Thanks.”

Kuroo turned out to be right about Kise taking Beginners’ French solely so he could flirt with Kasamatsu. Which could have worked, if Kasamatsu spoke or understood any French. Sometimes he didn’t understand Kise at all.

 A few weeks into the semester, Kasamatsu walked into the apartment and was greeted by a strange sight. Kise and Kenma were both huddled together in one corner of the living room, their backs towards him, hunched over something. As soon as he closed the door behind him, they looked at him. Kenma looked calm, and Kise looked like he had been caught doing something bad.

“What’s going on?” Kasamatsu asked.

“Senpai! Welcome home! Nothing’s going on,” Kise said. In the beat that followed, Kasamatsu very clearly heard a mew from behind Kise and Kenma. He felt a headache coming.

“Did you bring a kitten here?” he asked. “Don’t even try to get out of this. You know I heard that.”

“I couldn’t just walk away, senpai,” Kise said earnestly.

“Do you even know how to take care of a cat?” Kasamatsu asked.

“No, but I can learn.”

At that moment, the door opened again and Kuroo walked in. “Hi. What’s going on?”

“Kise found a kitten,” Kasamatsu explained. “And now he wants to keep it.”

More mewing sounds rang out.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like more than just one kitten. How many do you have in there, Kise?”

“Four,” Kise mumbled after hesitating.

“Kise, we can’t keep four kittens,” Kasamatsu said.

“But I’ve named them all,” Kise pouted as Kasamatsu and Kuroo approached them to look at the kittens. “Blanche, Griffe, Croc,” he pointed at the kittens in the box, and then at the one Kenma had in his lap, “And Flou.”

“You named them all in French,” Kuroo said, sounding impressed.

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Kasamatsu asked. “He went and named them all. Kise, we can’t keep them all. I’m not even sure we can keep one.”

“Can we keep this one?” Kenma asked, directing his question mostly at Kuroo, holding out the kitten to Kuroo. Kuroo took it from him, and the kitten curled up in his arms. “He seems very good-natured.”

Kasamatsu saw Kuroo’s decision on his face before Kuroo opened his mouth and agreed to keep the kitten, and sighed inwardly. Kuroo was lucky Kenma didn’t misuse the power he had over him. Kasamatsu braced himself before looking back at Kise, who was now pouting spectacularly.

“Can we keep them too, please?” Kise asked.

“We can’t keep them all, but if you agree to be responsible for most of the care, then we can keep one,” Kasamatsu said. Kise’s pout made him want to keep them all, but he knew that would be a disaster, for both them and the kittens. “Pick one, and we’ll have to decide what to do with the other two.”

“I have a friend who volunteers at an animal shelter,” Kuroo offered. “She can probably take them. I’ll talk to her.”

“Great, thanks.”

 Kise ended up keeping Griffe, and Kasamatsu soon learned why he had named the kitten the French word for claw. Kasamatsu often found claw marks on his arms in the morning, resulting from Griffe sleeping with Kise in the bed. The kitten didn’t seem to like Kasamatsu much, which stung a little, even though he tried hard not to let it bother him.

Kenma and Kuroo’s kitten was as good-natured as he had first seemed, and they were very happy with their choice. He had heard Kenma laugh for the first time, playing with that kitten, and had stopped doing what he had been doing in shock. Who knew kittens could change people.

 “Senpai!” Kise yelled in shock, distracting Kasamatsu from the video he was watching. He looked up and pulled out his earphones.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve got Griffe on your lap, and you’re petting her. And she’s purring.”

Kasamatsu looked at his lap, where the kitten was indeed purring, and looking like she was having the time of her life. Kasamatsu had no idea when that had happened.

“She loves you now. I must’ve rubbed off on her.”

Kasamatsu blinked once, and then felt his face going red as his brain caught up with his ears. Great, now he was blushing at Kise’s nonsense. The kitten had started to change him too.  

Semester: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KITA! You’ve been accepted for the role of CORIOLANUS. Admin Minnie: Kita, I genuinely don’t think we’ve had a Cyrus like yours join us in Verona. The way you capture both Cyrus’s beauty and his ugliness both. All that entitlement, all that arrogance, all that charm — you’ve grasped it masterfully. You understand Cyrus on a deep, personal level; but that’s not why I was so excited to accept your application. Ultimately, it was this line that really won me over: “But mostly, I am here because of this: if I do not stand witness to a falling star, if I do not love him as he is–, then I fear no one ever will.” I’m already in love with your Cyrus for who he is, and all the potential he has to ruin my life! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER Alias | kita Age | 20 Preferred Pronouns | she/her Activity Level | I think I can be fairly active. I am a full-time student, so my priority will always be there, but I always aim to get my replies done within a week. 6/10 or more? Hopefully more. Timezone | EST 

(also English is not my first language so pls be kind)

IN CHARACTER Character |

Cyrus Vicente Sloane ; CORIOLANUS FC: Lorenzo Zurzolo

Alt fc: Wolfgang Novogratz

What drew you to this character? |

oh Gods, where do I begin? Of all Verona’s monsters, Cyrus Sloane has to be one of the worst. At once, spoiled rotten, cruel and innately duplicitous, Cyrus is an arrogant princeling whose tyranny knows no bounds. And yet, as soon as I finished reading his biography, I knew it was over. He materialized in my mind like some sort of phantom, flashed that winning smile at me and visions of him haunted me ever after.

I saw his head across Brigette’s lap on a lazy summer afternoon. Sipping champagne out of long-stemmed glasses, wearing filigreed gold masks to cover their ugliness inside, the two of them are tyrants, fickle and fiendish things about to wreak terror on a city that has only known it.

———— “do you love me, cyrus?” she pouts. he smiles. when he kisses the petulance from her lips, there is no answer needed.

I saw his lips tilt upward into a smug grin as he and Lawrence meet up in a dingy bar. When the time comes, he throws his head back with laughter, he leans in, whispers something just loud enough for the other man to hear. This is a dangerous game to play, Lawrence knows. Nothing, after all, is ever given freely. But one look at Cyrus, at that indigent boy who seems not at all concerned with his traitorous tongue nor the consequences of it, and his fears are momentarily assuaged.

———— “all of this is just talk between friends, signor vernon,” cyrus says, waving off worries with an unconcerned shrug. lawrence pauses, raises an eyebrow, “is that what we are?”

I could wax poetic about why Cyrus is the way he is, why he plays at being charming, demands to be worshipped. But, in the end, it boils down to this: the rot in Cyrus Sloane is that he could not find it in himself to be forgiven. The anger he has in his heart, the revenge he plots– it is all because he cannot find anyone to blame but himself.

In Capetown, he learned to make weapons out of fleeting sweet-faced grins and honeyed lies. Barely into manhood, he won the hearts of his countrymen, had the ear of a kingpin, sat poised for an easy throne. But, though he had everything one could ever dream of, he still gave it all up in order to return to the place of his first and most terrible failure. Look, I have no doubt that he tells himself that he hates his mother. I have no doubt that he even believes that. However, I know that if you cut him open, you would see that he only hates that he does not hate her, not really. He hates that he cannot fault her for anything that she has ever done.

He had always idolized her, had always thought her the paragon of perfection, of stoic and unbending strength. He had never even blamed her for being cold to him– after all, his mother was never anything but pragmatic. She must have had her own reasons to toss him to the wolves. He blames her only for this: for propping up a mirror to his nature, for casting a light on a part of him that he would rather have never acknowledged… for reminding him that he was weak enough to be unwanted, that no matter how hard he tried to be beloved—he would only ever be left behind.

Yes, he is a sharp and cutting thing, hard to look at. He burns so bright, my icarian boy. He fashions himself so easy to be loved and flies so close to the sun, taunting it to shoot him down. He will ruin Verona, if he has his way. He will almost certainly burn himself up to do it. And I suppose I have applied— in part, to try and stop him, to save him from himself. But mostly, I am here because of this: if I do not stand witness to a falling star, if I do not love him as he is–, then I fear no one ever will.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1— Nothing short of a prodigy in politics + war, this princeling figures some form of leadership to be the most natural application for his talents, and, as it seems, he seems destined for it. Impressed by Cyrus’ verve and natural aptitude for diplomacy, Cosimo has promoted the young man to an emissary and holds Cyrus in high regard. But, while Cyrus seems content in his position and its upwards mobility, he does not intend to take orders forever.

In his biography, there are inklings of a betrayal from Cyrus to the Capulets written throughout his biography. His position to Lawrence as an informant is an obvious clue of lack of loyalty, but it definitely goes far beyond that. Cyrus pays no mind to any man (nor God). He is only concerned with his own interest.

While the possibility of Cyrus becoming a Montague is tantalizing, I think Cyrus hates the Capulets for what they have done to him, but he hates all of Verona the same way. Trading loyalties to the Montagues, to another mob family with a rigid hierarchy isn’t how Cyrus sees himself. He wants to be King, not just a soldier with a different perspective of the Castelvecchio Bridge. Right now, Cyrus does his best to play at peace. But, as the war in Verona streets escalates, the number of neutral sanctuaries decreases, I intend to make Cyrus prove himself loyal to a side, once and for all— whichever one that may be.

———— “Do you not trust me?” Cyrus grins. With his teeth bared and the whites of his eyes glittering in the dark, he looks like the Cheshire cat. You think you have never trusted him less.

2— Earnestly, I think that Cyrus probably wouldn’t betray the Capulets for the Montagues. However, I didn’t say Cyrus wouldn’t betray the Capulets altogether. In fact, for his goal (just like… enacting revenge on all of Verona), I think it’s more likely than not that he will betray them at some point. A thread I’ve been following through the biographies is Cassian’s ties to certain neutral parties (olivia + mona in particular). I could be misreading, but Olivia has her eyes on him. Mona knows his secrets. Like snakes, they cut through the grass, wrap themselves around the prey and they squeeze. Pressure mounting, Cassian might crack sometime soon. And Cyrus— well, he’s nothing if not an opportunist.

In the biography, it is explicitly stated that Cyrus seeks to overtake Cassian. Though Cyrus plays the part of being his dutiful student, he has no real affection for his mentor. Ever since he has been in Verona, he has tried to get closer to his mentor. However, when he spots Olivia’s watchful gaze on the man, I think Cyrus will jump at the chance to act– to finally show that he is not someone to be underestimated. I think this is a perfect opportunity for him to stumble.

I would love to see him team up with Mona and Olivia to amp up the pressure on Cassian. And moreover, I would love to see Cyrus’ loyalties be swayed to them entirely. In my eyes, Mona Chen is someone who thrives in duplicity, whose mother (and father) has not been kind to her and someone who Cyrus knows- will never bow to anyone. It is those things that Cyrus respects. It is those things that will make Cyrus vulnerable to her.

Perhaps Cyrus just passes information about Cassian to Mona and Olivia at first. he offers his assistance from time to time. But maybe things go deeper. Maybe he sees Mona as the coming storm, as someone who will brings the winds of change. Maybe Cyrus can be even convinced to follow her entirely. In any case, this is a perfect opportunity for Cyrus to make a misstep, for him to reveal too much about himself and having that be his undoing. Mona is a woman who deals with secrets and has no problem weaponizing that. It would be awful for him, if she had some dirt of him.

———— “You cannot think that I will let you crush my mentor,” he says, “at least, not without my help.”

3— What is Cyrus without his mother? What is a list of plots without Cyrus and Vivianne on it?. Honestly, I don’t even know where this is going to go. I just know that it’s going to hurt so exquisitely. If you asked Cyrus about his mother, he would laugh. I have your love, he would say, why do I need hers? There is no hard feelings between the two of them, he says. What she did gave him a better life. I mean, just look at him. He was spoiled in Capetown, given everything he ever wanted. And now that he is back in Verona, his good fortune has only followed. Right?

In the years since Cyrus left Capetown, Vivianne has only thrived. She has married Cosimo, become the underboss of the city’s best crime family (fuck u, montagues). She has even found a surrogate daughter to replace him, one that she loves in ways that she never could with him. It is clear that the problem was never with her. To a layman’s eye, Cyrus is nothing but an indigent boy who aims to make Verona his playground. Reveling in every waking moment in the city, he’s a reckless and terrible thing, content to leave caution to the wind so long as he conquers these streets. But the truth is– he has no appetite for ambition without her as an audience, no desire to prove his happiness and success if the news will not travel somehow to her ears.

He hates Vivianne. But what he hates most about her is that—while he would have done anything for her attention, she never seemed to care for him. ———— “You have the world, Cyrus,” she says, calm as ever. He laughs. ”Does it matter? I would have given it all up if you had just been there.”

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | not yet.

IN DEPTH In-Character Para Sample:

//// I WROTE THIS LITERALLY ALL TODAY BC I WANTED TO GET MY APP IN PLS DONT JUDGE TOO HARSHLY

Mass had only ended an hour or so ago. The candles lit for the service still smoldered from having been snuffed out. But Cyrus held no pretensions—sanctity had left this house of worship far before that.

There was nothing holy about this place, he ascertained.  

Perhaps there never had been.

Of course—he would not deny that, as a child, Cyrus had found the Cattedrale di Verona impossibly beautiful. A feat of architecture like no other, it had filled his chest with wonder to see the golden mural that arched across the vaulted ceiling, the reverential way sunlight passed through the stained glass. However, he had long since learned that the spectacle was only a clever ruse. Just like most things in Verona, beauty existed only to hide the rot that so often lurked beneath.

As he walked through the empty pews now, he felt a visceral disgust with himself. How had he not seen it? While he sat in these very seats, knelt on this very floor, sought out something bigger than himself, looked in every corner to find out why the room always felt so empty, he had been blind to the cracks in walls, the chips in the paint. The priest had said once to him that “in god, he would find all answers”—but there was no salvation to be found here.

Even when he had needed it the most, he had never found any salvation here.

Yes, you see he understood now. There was only one reason why he came to the Cathedral now: to drink in his bitterness, to remind himself of the debt he was owed.

The Cathedral was his, just like this city was. Not in that he believed in it or that he loved it more than anyone else, but because he had paid for it ten times over. It had promised him mercy and benevolence and safety, but, when every alley had looked like fear and every corner had held another terrible surprise, it had denied him of all of it. When he was weak, they had cast him aside, and he still remembered that casual cruelty, still felt the sting of rejection and could not bear it.

With no one around to stop him, Cyrus clambered atop an empty pew and went to light a cigarette. While the puff of smoke rose ever upwards, caressed the faces of Abaddon and John, St. Michael and Magog, he laughed. How prescient of them, he thought to himself, to paint a picture of their own reckoning.

He stubs his cigarette out on the pew. It leaves a scorch mark, but he does not seem to care. He offers a rakish smile to no one in particular. He laughs.

“You would forgive me,” he says to the empty air.

(And look- look at that winsome smile, at that careless leer. You could try to fault him for something. He would dare you to. But you would still forgive him anyways.)

[prettywordsyouleft]

Secret Santa

Genre: Christmas au / fluff

Characters: Lee Daehwi x reader

A/N: It’s time for another collaboration! For the 12 days leading up to Christmas, Ashley over @goodnightkisseu, Kim at @nothingwithoutwannaone and I will be posting stories every day leading up to Christmas Day itself!

Word count: 1325

Mistletoe | Santa’s Helper | Christmas Carols | Ice Blades | Snow Angel | Santa, Baby! | Gingerbread Cookies | Secret Santa | Giftwrap | First Snow | Silver Bells | It’s Christmas

He didn’t know what to get you.

Of all the people to draw out of the hat for Secret Santa, Daehwi had sat there hoping he wouldn’t get you. Of course, he pulled out the slip of paper that said your name and was still stuck on what to buy you.

It wasn’t that Daehwi didn’t like you. That was the problem, he really liked you. And that’s why he didn’t want to buy your Secret Santa gift because he liked you so much that he wanted to buy you something perfect without letting on about how he felt about you.

At first, he decided to get you a book. After all, he always saw you around campus with your nose in one, and he thought it would be a perfect gift. Except there were so many genres to pick from! If he got you something action based, would that be too much? Something softer and playful might work too. The longer he stood in front of the rows of books, the easier it became to doubt the purchase. Especially with how many he had picked up that had some sort of romantic love story involved.

Would you think your Secret Santa wanted you to have a love interest with them? Would this make you uncomfortable? He shook his head and quickly placed down the novel he held. He wouldn’t give you a story for Christmas.

It was the same for music; he couldn’t find a group he knew you liked without finding glaringly obvious love confessions in at least one of the songs. He knew that most musicians sang about love as a topic and it was so generalised that you wouldn’t bat an eyelid. But what if you considered it? He couldn’t take the risk.

Daehwi exhausted his options over the next week. Everything he came up with somehow he would relate it to being some kind of confession. A mug with a cat on it? Not safe, it would insinuate he wanted to share a drink with you. Chocolates? Isn’t that what you received from loved ones? Even though he knew you had a sweet tooth, he couldn’t gift you those.

For someone normally so level-headed, Daehwi felt like a flustered mess over a simple present. How this had become something more than that to him, he wasn’t quite sure, but it bothered him that he couldn’t just pick something up without attaching his feelings to it.

And so he turned to his best friend Somi, desperate for some advice to help him find the perfect gift for you. Glancing up at him from the magazine she was reading, Somi frowned after his spiel. Had he rushed it? He was breathing hard from the exertion of explaining his predicament and he felt hot all of a sudden. Despite it being the start of winter, he moved to the window of his dorm room and pushed it open.

“You’re over-thinking this.”

Daehwi let out a bitter scoff and nodded. “You don’t say! So, what should I get her?”

“You won’t buy books, music, movies or cute knick-knacks. And chocolate or food is off the cards?” He nodded earnestly and sat down beside her, waiting for her help to begin. “What about a flower?”

“Flowers?!” he repeated and Somi shook her head firmly.

“No, as in an actual plant, one she has to look after and grow. Maybe a cute cactus? That’s low maintenance in case she doesn’t have a green thumb.”

“Nothing says let’s grow together like giving your crush a plant!”

“Why are you being so uptight about this? Just tell her how you feel then!”

“I can’t.”

Somi groaned. “You can’t or you won’t because you’re scared Y/N will reject you? You’re a great guy, Hwi. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to buy a present. Not everything has to be perfect in courting someone. I mean, anything is better than receiving a gift voucher. At least even with a mug, you actually put some thought into it.”

“That’s it!” Daehwi cried and Somi nodded happily. He dismissed her response and shook her lower arm lightly. “You’re a genius; nothing can be insinuated with a gift voucher!”

“Daehwi, do not buy her a voucher! It shows how little you care about someone or how little you know about them. From what you told me you know enough to buy her a lot of things. You’re just being stupid-”

“It’s perfect!”

As the gifts were exchanged around the room, Daehwi watched you in anticipation to see your reaction. Would you be upset to receive something impersonal like Somi insisted? Should he have gotten you something comical and unattached of feelings instead? He barely realised his gift was handed to him as he watched you, a small smile crossing your lips as you looked inside your envelope.

It was then that he realised he only had an envelope too and he glanced at the handwriting on the front, blinking once when he recognised who it belonged to.

You had drawn his name too?

As he opened the envelope, he couldn’t help but grin. It was a gift voucher from the same generic store he had gone to. Had you struggled to figure what to buy him as well? Although you both knew each other, it wasn’t on a deep level or anything. He could understand you not knowing what to buy him. He felt at ease knowing you had essentially swapped the same gifts with each other. All that panic over the last couple of weeks had been pointless.

And Somi was wrong; you looked pretty pleased with what you had gotten.

The group of performance students all started to mingle around the Christmas party for your campus club, and Daehwi soon noticed you were walking towards him, holding your envelope up in the air.

“Thank you,” you mentioned and he chuckled.

“Likewise.”

“We should have tried to disguise our handwriting,” you said with a giggle and then looked down at your shoes for a moment. When you looked up at him, you were chewing on your lip. “Did you struggle too?”

“I uh, didn’t want my gift to confuse you.”

You blinked and then nodded. “I guess it was the same for me. I had a lot of ideas but I just didn’t know which to get you. A friend said a gift voucher is too impersonal yet it was the only thing I thought would be right.”

“A friend said the same to me, you’re not offended?”

You shook your head and smiled shyly. “Of course not! I actually like it. Especially since we got each other, Daehwi. Maybe this was a good sign because we can go spend them at the same store.”

Were you suggesting you both leave and go cash in the vouchers together? As in, like a date? Daehwi was grinning and nodding his head before he thought too far ahead. He’d done enough of that already.

“Should we go and do that now? Maybe have a coffee afterwards?”

It was your turn to nod happily whilst he finished up talking and you both went to grab your coats, Daehwi holding the door to the clubroom open so you could exit first. And then his hand naturally grabbed onto yours before he thought about it, and you didn’t let go.

Had it always been this easy around you or was his brain finally letting up on the incessant thoughts and allowing him to act out how he wanted to be around you? Whatever it was, it made his heart soar the longer he held your hand, swinging it lightly as you both walked along. This relaxed motion made you look at him and you shared a smile before stepping into an elevator together. Once the doors were shut you nudged him lightly.

“I’m really glad you’re my Secret Santa this year, Daehwi.”

“Me too.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[AB6IX Masterlist] | [WANNA ONE Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[amethyst-labyrinth]

More then Anything

Here an angst-y one-shot i wrote awhile ago about Plato and Tugger. 

lato loved The Rum Tum Tugger. To him Tugger was breath of fresh air, so different from the other cats, he lived by his own rules, but wasn't evil like The Hidden Paw or bad like Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Plato loved everything about him, the way he walked, talked, sang. How he could rile up the others and not get in trouble for it.

He had kept his love for Tugger a secret masking it with idolizing him like many of the younger toms and kittens. He knew he didn't have a chance with older tom and that he was lucky to be considered a friend by Tugger and that had been enough until the Jellice ball.

Everything had changed during and after the ball. It started with Tugger's song. The sexual energy of the singing and dancing was so thick in the air that Plato could taste it and it was all the brown and white tom could do to keep himself in check. He was rather thankful of how jealous he was becoming of Jemima, as Tugger would single her out during his song what was so special about the little queen kit anyway? Being jealous of her kept him from embarrassing himself.

It was only after Old Deuteronomy's kidnapping and return did Plato's resolve not to tell Tugger how he felt brake. The way he sung about Mr. Mistoffelees, the cat they all knew as Quaxo, the cat who insulted and ignored him. The way Tugger looked at him, danced with him, respected him! Plato couldn't stand it! He didn't hate the magical cat, how could he? They were friends in their own way and he had saved Old Deuteronomy, but he was so jealous of him more then of Jemima and Bombalurina combined. Why him? How could Tugger want to be with someone who didn't see how wonderful he was who didn't worship him?

Demeter was always giving lectures about healthy relationship and mate-ships, to Plato it didn't seem like Tugger and Quaxo had healthy relationship and that was why he was going to tell Tugger that he loved him, maybe if Tugger knew that he was loved really, really loved he'd leave Quaxo and be with him.

It was week after the Jeillice ball; Tugger had come down to the junkyard to visit and take a brake from being a housecat. Mr. Mistoffelees was not with him; according to Tugger he was ether on the roof of their human home or curled up by the fire inside their human home. Plato didn't care one way or the other, just as long as he got to talk to Tugger alone.

Swallowing a lump in this throat and possibly his heart, as he was sure it was in his stomach he strolled up to the older tom.

"Hi, Tugger!" He said happily trying not to act nervous, why did the thought of confessing his undying love for the Mane Coon frighten him so much now?

"Plato!" Tugger acknowledged him beamingly. "And how is my favorite newly turned adult tom doing? Adult life treating you oaky?"

Favorite? He was Tugger's favorite! That filled him with hope, he could do this, he could tell Tugger how he felt and Tugger would feel the same way!

"I'm good! Real good!" Plato said with happiness.

"Well isn't that good," Tugger smirked at the other tom's exuberances.

"I've moved out of my mother's den and found one of my own."

"Got yourself a den already? Well you've piped my curiosity. Going to invite me over sometime to see it?" Tugger asked him flirtatiously.

"No time like the present," Plato said barely able to resist throwing his arms around Tugger and burying his head in Tugger's mane.

"Why not?" Tugger said stretching showing off his lean muscular body making the queens surrounding him swoon, even Plato felt his knees buckle. "There's nothing else to do. Lead the way."

"Right!" Plato said brightly offering his arm to Tugger, the Mane Coon however declined hitching his thumb claws into his belt. Apparently walking arm in arm was reserved for one tuxedo cat alone.

They walked in silence with Plato deep in thought, how could he put into words his love for The Rum Tum Tugger, how could he tell him how much he loved, worship him! He'd give his life for him.

Finally they came upon a tall broken antique gramophone. The cabinet where records had been kept was broken as well leavening enough space for a cat or two too live in.

"This it?" Tugger asked as he sniffed the air smelling Plato's scent from marking his new den.

"Yep!" Plato said with pride. "Do you like it?"

"Nice," The Mane Coon said rubbing the side of his face on one of the corners of the gramophone leaving a bit of his scent as well. "You know if you got this thing working and got some records, I bet a certain white queen would just love to come practice her dancing here," Tugger continued examining the gramophone with interest.

"Rum Tum Tugger," Plato said deciding to use Tugger's full name.

"Problem?" Tugger asked turning to face the brown and white cat smirking.

Looking him dead in the eyes Plato said it. "I love you."

Tugger's expression turned bored, he didn't even seemed flattered. Plato knew Tugger was used to cats professing their love to him, but why did he have to look so bored when he said it!

"I mean it! I love you! With every part of my being! I do!" Plato said grabbing Tugger's shoulders with his paws, at least Tugger didn't bat him away.

"Well, thank you the sentiment," Tugger began sounding uninterested. " However I…"

"I know you're with him," Plato said almost darkly.

"Him?" Tugger asked with a hint of amusement. "Him who?"

"Mr. Quaxo Mistoffelees," This time Plato said his name darkly and Tugger's scowled.

"Say his name with respect kit. He's earned it and he has a higher rank in the tribe then you."

"I didn't see you when Macavity and Munkustrap fought," Plato continued. "I was so afraid something had happened to you, that Macavity or one of his agents hurt you I…I don't know what I'd do if anything happen to you," Plato said shaking him.

"Is there a point to this?" Tugger asked removing Plato's paws from his shoulder, if it were more possible he sounded even more disinterested then before.

"I had to knew where you were, if you were alright or not, I didn't care about anything else, only you Tugger! Only you," He said softly."

"How very sweet," Tugger said sarcastically.

"To me you are the Everlasting Cat," Plato told him earnestly.

"Well that's a new one, not very effective, but new," Tugger said clearly not moved by Plato's devotion to him.

"I found you with him, I couldn't hear what you and Quaxo…Mr. Mistoffelees were saying, but the way you were looking at him, I've never seen you look at any one cat like that before, it was how I always wanted you to look at me and then you kissed him."

"Kiss for good luck," Tugger said remembering and smiling a little.

"I'm not afraid of him. I will be a much better mate too you then him. We can tell him together if you want or I can tell him and you can move into my den with me or we can find a bigger den if you want and we can find some humans to take us in and…."

"Enough!" Tugger said angrily. "You are missing the litter box completely here. First of all I have absolutely no intention of leave Misto for you or anyone else and I don't do flings on the side. At the moment I like my den and will stay till I get tired of it and lastly I'm a bit attached to my human family and they would be devastated if I where to disappear."

"But Tugger," Plato began again. "I will treat so much better then him! I'll never say a cruel word to you in your life, I'll hunt for you and every day when we wake up and every night before we go to sleep I'll tell you how much I love you," He finished earnestly.

"Everlasting Cat! You are serious aren't you?" Tugger said with an air of annoyance, he leaped away a little bit from Plato; he couldn't stand standing still for too long. "Well, well," Tugger said as he started to pace. "I am flattered, really I am, but as you are aware my heart lay elsewhere…"

"How could you love him?" Plato asked him desperately. "He's cruel to you!"

"Cruel to be kind kit, cruel to be kind," Tugger corrected him. "Listen Plato, I really do like you, you're nice kit."

"I'm tom! A full grown tom, I'm as tall as you Tugger!"

"You're action a kitten and how tall you are as nothing to with age. Now listen, I could give the whole spiel on how lets just be friends and all that platonic jazz, but I'm going to be a bit more honest with you. You are nothing new, everything you've said to me has been said before, not all the same words, but the same meaning and it means nothing to me."

"Then why do you flirt with everyone?"

"Because I can, because it's fun. It's what I do and there's no doing anything about it!" Tugger sung the last doing a pelvic thrust. "Well now that I've rejected you, ripped out your heart and uh shredded it to pieces I'll leave you alone now. Catch you on the flip side."

But Tugger's rejecting of him only made Plato want him even more! Tugger showing him a glimpse of his cold cruel nature was more of a turn on then anything else, Plato needed him, hungered for him, before Tugger had a chance to walk away Plato pounced on him knocking the larger cat onto the ground.

Tugger actually looked surprised. Plato panted as he looked down at Tugger, he was straddling him his front paws on Tugger's chest.

"You're going to beat me up for rejecting you?" He asked none to pleased.

"No, I'm being dominant, isn't that what you love?" Plato told him squeezing Tugger between his thighs.

Tugger's eyes widen. "Stop it!" He hissed throwing the other tom off him.

"I heard you say it!" Plato said getting up and making his way towards Tugger. The Mane Coon bristled, tail swatting side to side, teeth beard claws out. "I heard you say it to him! After the ball I went to your den to talk to you. I didn't unstained what you meant to first and then I heard his voice and saw your shadows…"

That was enough for Tugger in a blind fury he charged at the younger tom pinning him against his den.

"You pervert! You disgusting little pervert! That was a private intimate moment between me and my mate!" Tugger yelled shaking him, his claws digging into Plato's shoulders.

"I left when I realized what you two were doing! I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone, but me! I love you! I want you be with me!"

"Well I don't love you! Not even as a friend! How could want to be even associated with someone as pathetic as you?" Tugger spat nostrils flaring, lips snarling. As much as Tugger's words stung Plato couldn't help being more attracted to him. The way Tugger's body was tense pressed up against his, his hot breath on him, even Tugger's claws digging into his fur felt good. Oh how he wanted him.

"I just want to save you!" Plato said grabbing his arms with his paws.

"Save me? Save me from what?"

"From him! You're in abusive relationship! He's verbally abusing you!"

Tugger snorted and shook Plato's paws off him.

"You really don't get it do you?" Tugger asked. "You think love is all about sweet talk and mating. Well it's more to that much more."

"But," Plato began to protest. "Demeter says mates should be nice to one another and he's not nice to you."

"Everlasting Cat! You really are a kitten in a tom's body."

"But your song he called you…"

"So? I've called him worse things then that and he's called me worse things then that too. It's how we play."

"But when you sang about him it was nothing but praise," Plato said, he didn't understand that Tugger was getting at.

"Of course it was!" Tugger said exasperated. "Do you think, I'm going to sing a song filled with insults to convince the others that Mistoffelees is magical and bring back Old Deuteronomy?"

"Dose that mean, you didn't mean it? All that praise? Was it all false?" Plato asked hopefully as he pawed at Tugger. He didn't want Tugger praising anyone not even Old Deuteronomy. He wanted Tugger all to himself, he just needed to prove himself worthy of the Mane Coon.

"I meant every single solitary word," Tugger told him evenly swatting him off.

"I don't understand, I don't!" Plato yelled confused, love was supposed to be simple and pure, Tugger was supposed to love him back. None of this made sense.

"Enough with the dramatics, you're not impressing anyone," Tugger told him sounding bored again. "It's simplicity in itself really. I get too much praise and admiration while Quaxo doesn't get enough so we trade praise for insults, keeps me grounded and him afloat, understand?"

"No, you're a God, why would you now want to be worship everyday by everyone?" Plato asked throwing his arms around Tugger again; he just couldn't keep his paws off him, with Tugger so close to him. Tugger once gain threw him off.

"Keep your paws to yourself," Tugger told him. "Let's try this every time Misto insults me it turns me on, I get so-oh hot," Tugger deadpanned.

"I could do that, if that's what you want," Plato said refusing to give up. "You, you're a, you're a…" He couldn't say anything how could he said a word against the cat he loved worshiped. "Just tell me what you want me to say and I'll say it."

Tugger growled in annoyance sending sensual shivers down Plato's spine.

"Why can't you get it though your think skull, I want nothing from you and nothing to do with you! I have a mate and even if I didn't I still wouldn't want you! Now this conversion is over!" And with that Tugger turned to leave, Plato couldn't let it end like this he had one last desperate ditch effort to try.

"His put a spell on you!" Plato cried running after him.

Tugger turned to face him again this time more angry then annoyed. "He doesn't love you! He's using you for his own sick pleasures! He's just like Macavity!" Tugger's claws collided with Plato's face. "I'll save you from him!" Plato continued not caring that Tugger was attacking him. He continued to hurl frantic abuse and slander about the magical cat while Tugger clawed and punched him with such anger that he never knew he possessed.

How dare he say those thing about Mistoffelees, didn't he know those words and actuations were dangerous? If the cats got wind of it and believed it they could demanded he be thrown out of the tribe or be kept prisoner with in the junkyard or even worse killed. But it was even more then that to Plato say such horrid untrue things about the cat he loved in some sick attempt to win him over was just too much!

Plato didn't care that Tugger was beating him; in fact he was enjoying it to some degree. Tugger was touching him, that was all that matter. The intense look of face his even if it was hatred it was directed solely at him. Tugger's heavy panting…. suddenly Tugger stopped beating up the younger tom a horrified look on his face.

"You're enjoying this!" He accused stepping back from the young tom.

"Yes," Plato admitted. "I don't care if I'm your punching bag, as long as I'm something to you. I love you."

"You don't love me, what you feel for me isn't love I don't what it is and I don't want to know. Now listen," Tugger hissed. "You. Are. Nothing. To. Me. Not my friend, not my enemy, nothing. So stay the hell away from me and, you better stay the hall away from my mate or else I will personal have throw out of the tribe and into Macavity's paws. Is that clear and understood?" Tugger asked him coldly.

Plato meekly nodded.

"Good, I'm leaving now, don't follow and don't call out to me." Tugger fluffed up his mane and marched away from the crestfallen tom. He ignored the cries from the queens as he entered the main clearing. He was too worked up to be around the other cats, as he left the junkyard he was vaguely aware of Munkustrap calling out and following him. He didn't trust himself around his humans or Mistoffelees not in the mood he was in and especially after Plato tried to force himself on him.

He needed calming, he needed to tell what happen without judgment, and he needed…

"Old Deuteronomy," Tugger said when he arrived at the vicarage wall.

"Rum Tum Tugger, my son," The Old cat said acknowledge him as he carefully jumped down. "What has upset you so?"

Looking into his father's wise old eyes and seeing his unconditional love and understanding Tugger told him everything that happened between him and Plato, the tips of his ears burning slightly from embarrassment when he told him that Plato had overheard himself and Mistoffelees mating. When he was finished he buried his head in his father's fur in a rare show of vulnerability. Munkustrap who had followed Tugger was too shocked and angry to speak. How could Plato act like that? He also wasn't sure if Tugger handled what happen the right way, but under the circumstances he wasn't if he himself could have handled it any different.

Old Deuteronomy was grave and silent deep in thought.

"Will you be all right my son?"

"I think so, I throw Plato off before he could really do anything, if he even knows how, but he enjoyed me hurting him. I like good wrestle and play fight as much as the next cat, but not to the point where it hurts and I wasn't holding back."

"I will speak to young Plato about his…feelings for you, Munkustrap my son, walk Rum Tum Tugger to his human home. Rum Tum Tugger, you must tell youg Quaxo what has happen, he has a right to know."

"Yes father," The two tomcats replied.

"Father?" Tugger said. "Dose the rest of the tribe have to know what happen? Mistoffelees will be very embarrassed if all the tribe finds out that Plato overheard us and…I'm not very proud about how I acted I shouldn't have attacked him like that, it's just he was saying those things about Misto and I just…" Tugger trailed off. "The younger toms look up to me you know and I wouldn't want them thinking it's oaky attacked another cat if they say something they don't like."

"Young Plato's wounds can not be hidden. The tribe will know something happened and that young Plato was in the wrong, but they need not no the particulars, do you not agree Munkustrap?"

"You know best father," The gray tabby answered. "Come Rum, lets get you to your human home. Are you sure you're really all right," He asked as they walked away.

Plato lay curled up in his den, the reality of what truly happen as well the stinging pain of the scratch and punches he'd received from Tugger came down a upon him hard. Everlasting Cat what was wrong with him? Not only did he ruin any chance with Tugger, but also their friendship and most likely his and Quaxo's as well. Tugger's harsh words of telling Plato that he was nothing to him repeated over and over again the young tom's head. He wished Tugger had killed him instead; he didn't want to live anymore. The Rum Tum Tugger was his reason for living, and now without Tugger in his life he had nothing to live for. Tears escaped form his eyes all he wanted now was for Death's cat come and take him. Instead the sand-cat came, Plato was so emotionally and physically exhausted that he cried himself to sleep. When he awoke he was aware of a cat standing outside his den.

"Old Deuteronomy?" He asked groggily.

The old cat nodded in response. "May I come in?"

"Yes," Plato said still sleepy. He had heard cat-lore about Death's cat one story stating that said cat could take the guise of any cat it choose and would trick others into letting it into their dens and then take their life. He hoped more the wondered if was being visited by Death's cat and not his leader.

Old Deuteronomy sat down and surveyed Plato, he covered in deep scratches. The Old cat frowned he did not approved of what Tugger had done, but he could not fault him ether, Tugger had acted on fear and instinct.

"Rum Tum Tugger told me what happened," The Jellice leader said.

Plato became more awake realizing he truly was in the presents if his leader.

"I am I being thrown out of the tribe?" Plato asked timidly.

"No," The Old cat said kindly.

"I-I-I just wanted Tugger to know that I love him and have him and love me back. Is that so wrong?"

"It is never wrong to love and want to be loved. But it is wrong to try force that love on someone and try to force them to love you back."

"I didn't mean for that to happen, it just did. I couldn't stop or control myself."

"I know my kitten," The older cat said kindly once again.

"I just don't understand his and Quaxo's relationship, they don't seem like loving mates."

"It is not your places to try and understand their relationship, but to respect it. You do not have to like it or approve of it, but you must respect that they are together. Do you truly believe the thing you said about young Quaxo?"

"I did when I said them, but I know there're not true. It was as if, if I believed them, then Tugger would too."

"Plato, I will not abide you or any other cat spreading falsehood for their own personal gain especially if it dangers the reputation of another cat."

"I know, sir, I swear I won't do it again. It only made things worse anyhow. What am I going to do, Old Deuteronomy? I love Tugger so much I don't know if I can live without him. And he hates me, he wants nothing to do with me."

"Are sure it is love that you feel for him? Love, lust, and obsession are three very different things they can feel almost the same and too me it dose not sound like it is love you feel for him."

"No it is love! I know how I feel. I need Tugger in my life and I don't know what do now.

"Even if it is only as his friend?"

"I'd be happy if he only acknowledged my existences. That isn't going to happen." He said miserably.

Old Deuteronomy was silent Plato's love for Tugger boarded on obsession whether it would come to be dangerous, he did not know but he also felt bad for the young tom, he knew what it was like love, to love with all that you are and not being loved back, he had been there many times.

"Young Plato, I can not excuse your actions even if they were done in ignorance or with best intentions at heart and I wonder if you truly know and understand all you have done wrong."

"Everything I did was wrong! I shouldn't even have told Tugger how I felt; we'd still be friends if I hadn't. Everlasting Cat I forced myself on him!" Plato said mournfully putting his head in his paws. "If anyone ever did that to me or one of my sisters, or ether of my parents... I'm a monster like Macaivty!"

"I would no go that far, but I do not want what you did to happen again with any other cat. And I will know if it dose happen again."

"How could that happen to another cat? Tugger's the only cat I love and want."

"You may think that now, but in time you may feel differently and should that happen come to me first and I will help you to convey your feeling the right way."

"Right now I just want to apologize to Tugger."

"That is a good start, but I think it best if you do stay away from Rum Tum Tugger for now. I do not want to give you false hope, but in due time Rum Tum Tugger may forgive you and at some point my even well see you as an acquaintance whom he might socialize with in a gathering, but it will take a long time and you must not force it."

"I understand."

"There's more, you must be punished for what you have done. When your wounds have healed some, you will report to Munkustrap to be assigned tasks and chores until it is decided that have learned repercussions of your actions. Munkustrap also knows what happened, but he will be fair, if not perhaps a bit more stern. Rum Tum Tugger would not like the rest of rest of the tribe to know what happen, all that will be known is that you have done something wrong and are being punished for it. Unstand?"

"Yes sir," Plato said solemnly.

"I know it feels like the end of the world, but it's not. Now do you need anything?"

"No, I think I'd just like to be alone now."

"Very well," Old Deuteronomy said he left Plato's den.

It was one mouth later, every cat in the tribe know something had happened between Plato and Tugger, but they didn't know what and both cats were tight lip about it, but it was generally thought that Plato challenged Tugger to a fight or his place in the tribe and got his tail handed back to him.

Plato kept his distance from both Tugger and Mistoffelees none of the other cats thought much of it and besides the tasks and chores kept the young tom pretty busy from the bizarre task collecting as many blue items as he could from the chore of cleaning out old abandoned dens.

One day when Plato was making his across the clearing to report to Munustrap he saw Tugger and Mistoffeless sitting on the trunk of the TSE-1. Mistoffelees was showing Tugger a card trick.

Plato swallowed hard it was his only chance. He carefully and slowly walked as close the broken down car as he dared. The two cats became aware of his presents and turned their head towards him. Tugger would have wanted to ignore him, but was curious by nature and wonder what the young tom could be up to. Though he'd be ready, should Plato try to do anything. Tugger unsheathed his claws and put on his best intimating face.

Plato fought the urge to profess his love again. It wasn't fair that Tugger could look so good while looking so fierce. Mistoffelees on the other paw had a neutral expression on his face, but tiny little sparks danced around his claws.

In a voice so quite that only the two cats in front of him could hear Plato said, "I'm sorry," Before walking away. As he walked away he heard Tugger snort in his direction. It wasn't an acceptance or a sign of forgiveness, but at least it was an acknowledgment and that was more then anything Plato could really hope for.

la fin

[thedeadshotnetwork]

Nick Gazin's Comic Book Love-In 121 Hello, I’m Nicholas Gazin and this is my weekly column to review and discuss comics. This week I’d like to tell you about what I saw at Comic Arts Brooklyn. But first: Heather Benjamin has a show coming up at the Dress Shop in Brooklyn. The reception is on December 15. Everyone should go. There are many comic conventions, but there’s only one that isn’t overwhelmingly sad and embarrassing, and that’s Comic Arts Brooklyn (CAB). CAB is the product of the blood, sweat, and meanness of Gabe Fowler , the most hated man in comics. Its quality comes from his incisive curation. While the larger comic-cons have become gluttonous celebrations of advertising, dress up, and stupidity , the smaller ones have become feel good drum circles of unmonitored mediocrity. It’s sad that, as comic conventions have become more frequent, the amount of good comics being made has dwindled. This year, CAB was notably different than previous conventions. Gabe had organizational help in the form of Matthew James-Wilson, VICE contributor and editor of FORGE , a quarterly art mag. They also moved the convention from the church near Best Pizza to the expansive gymnasium of Pratt, the art school I convinced Matthew to drop out of. If you wanted to take a photo where you were pretending to be a vacuum cleaner, that option was there for you. I think Matthew Thurber painted this, based on the initials. This guy was one of two dealers selling old comic books. I bought that copy of Mickey Rat #1 . He specialized in old Head Comics, many of which I had never seen before (and I usually think I know everything). Most of the old hippie comics have incredible covers and disappointing interiors. Look at the typography and beautiful colors on this image of a pig reading a comic. We are all Little Greta Garbage . This comic is about a guy named Ric Gayzin who works for LICE Magazine. For some reason this comic really speaks to me. We are all the “We’re ALL SCREWED” cat. This is Gina Wynbrandt holding up a comic she made about how she’s going to hire a male prostitute with the profits made from selling this comic. Here is the leading bad boy of graphic literature himself, Simon Hanselmann . Simon’s very dear pet rabbit Woody died recently and I would like to acknowledge his passing. He was a great friend to a good artist. Here’s a pretty print by Hannah K. Lee . I like to eat orange-colored food when I’m high. The great thing about Cheetos is that after you eat them, you can use your Cheetos claw as a tool of intimidation. Most people would rather get punched in the gut than have a Cheetos hand wiped down their back. If you ever get into a fight, dip your hands in Cheetos first and your opponent will just back off. I liked these. Angry Jim Campbell is a contributing writer, artist, and colorist for the tremendously good Over the Garden Wall comics . He made this little recreation of an object from one of the comics as a physical object. Angry Jim is undervalued, but his work is notable for being equally kind, funny, and intelligent. If there were any justice, Angry Jim would be a household name, but instead this handsome, talented, humble guy just plugs along. Do yourself and Jim a favor and go check out Angry Jim for fuck’s sake! Look at how earnestly cute and sweet this thing is. I don’t consider Wizard Skull to be a real artist. I think he knows that I think this. I didn’t ask Heather Benjamin to pose like this. She’s just naturally glamorous. This is what Chris Ware looks like. He said he’s read my column and liked it, but that seems odd since I regularly badmouth him. Maybe he was making fun of me. At the end of the day, he’s making the most physically cumbersome comics on the market, and I’m just some guy who buys them. India Pearlman , a student at Pratt, presented me with this patch she made for me by hand with a needle and thread over the course of several months. It’s based on the graphic from the package of a doll based on Cecil the Sea-Sick Sea Serpent that came with a disguise kit. This is Gary Panter . He's the creator of Jimbo and the Screamers’ logo. He's also the designer of Pee-wee’s Playhouse . Gary is looking like a very cool founding father these days. This is Charles Burns, creator of Black Hole and some Altoids ads from the 90s. He was looking appropriately moody and terrifying. These are the two knuckleheads who put this event on. Look at them. Look at their smug faces, proud at having put on such a fine—not to mention free—event, celebrating a medium that seems to be forgotten even though it’s more popular now than it’s been in decades. These two are driven by something beyond a quest for glory, respect, wealth, or security. They’re men of integrity, driven by some mixture of OCD and self-loathing. Thanks to Gabe and Matt for striving for perfection in an age where most people can no longer recognize it. I look forward to seeing what these fine guys do next. Follow Nick Gazin on Instagram . December 12, 2017 at 03:47PM