#i approached this scene so... scientifically...

[nitpick7]

SPOKEPICC KISS (YURI EDITION)

unfortunately i have Disease That Puts Minecraft Guys In Your Brain And You Can't Get Them Out. so i spent all day and also much of last night writing this. um spoke and mapicc but they're girls and they kiss. uu soulmates au but that isn't super relevant. takes place during invis mafia infiltration... yay yippee

words: 878

~ i don't have a fancy divider but other people use those so this is my low budget divider ~

Spoke, Mapicc, and Leo are sneaking around Mafia City at night, scouting out the area or something. Really, they were just bored and Spoke wanted something to do so she dragged her team out against their will. And really, though the others don't know this yet, Spoke just wanted an excuse to be alone with Mapicc. So, first chance she gets, she grabs Mapicc's hand (okay, fumbles around until she grabs Mapicc's hand instead of the gold chestplate she's holding, but who's checking?) and drags her into an alleyway.

"Wh- Spoke?" Mapicc asks, voice hushed. "What?"

Spoke holds up a finger to shh her before remembering that Mapicc can't see her hands, then shakes her head instead. Mapicc nods, and Spoke tightens her grip on her hand and leads her around some random shrubbery until they are appropriately out of sight and earshot from any potential onlookers.

"Hi," Spoke says, not quite a whisper but still carefully quiet. "It's been a while since we had time to talk."

Spoke can hear Mapicc's eyeroll through the invis. "We talk all the time, Spoke. Like, through comms directly in front of Ash. Constantly."

"Yeah, but Leo's always there, and I love that guy but he's not you," Spoke pouts. She reaches for Mapicc's other hand and finds it after a couple seconds of fumbling. "I want to talk to just you. And we can't even write since we have to be invis all the time..."

Mapicc is quiet for a second, and Spoke shuts up too so she can listen to Mapicc's breathing. Remember that she's there. "And what do you need me alone for?" She whispers.

Spoke can feel her face flush, and for once she's grateful for the invis keeping her girlfriend from seeing her face. "Honestly, I kind of just want to kiss you. Um, a lot, probably."

Mapicc tilts her head at Spoke and says, teasing, "Well, we can do that right now."

"Mapicc, I can't even see you-"

"Oh, shut up." She lets go of Spoke's hands and cups her own around Spoke's face. "I know where your lips are."

And with genuinely impressive accuracy, Mapicc's lips meet Spoke's.

Spoke is, justifiably, shocked for about half a second before the sensation of the kiss overpowers anything else and all she can do is melt into it. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around Mapicc's body, and has just enough presence of mind to notice that their armor makes it slightly uncomfortable for her to be holding Mapicc this closely. Not that she cares - she hasn't gotten to kiss her soulmate in far too long and will not be letting anything interrupt this moment.

Mapicc moves her hands to the back of Spoke's neck, getting them all tangled up in her hair. Spoke's hands find the hood of Mapicc's sweatshirt and she holds on like it's an anchor, keeping her right there with her soulmate and nothing else exists anymore. It's just the two of them, finally just the two of them, in each other's arms.

Spoke really could not ask for anything else.

After a minute, Mapicc takes her mouth off of Spoke's, but she doesn't break away just yet; instead just moving a few inches to the right and kissing down the side of Spoke's neck. She stays on one spot for a while, and Spoke is sure she'll have the most atrocious hickey, but it's not like anyone will be able to see it. It's just for them.

Mapicc does pull away, eventually, and Spoke can't stop herself from letting out a little whine in protest as Mapicc's hands detangle themselves from her hair. "Spoke," She whispers, giggling, "Look at me."

So Spoke opens her eyes, and their invis has worn off and she's finally looking down at Mapicc. She smiles, and Mapicc smiles back, and she's so cute and Spoke wishes she could spend all night right here, looking at her.

Mapicc tucks a curl of Spoke's hair behind her ear. "I messed your hair up," She comments.

"I don't care," Spoke says. "You can do it again. If you want."

Mapicc laughs. She tilts her head to get a better look at Spoke's neck, like she's examining her work. "I really did a number on you there."

The blush already creeping across Spoke's face only grows deeper at that. "You did. I like it," She blurts.

"Oh, you are so down bad for me, it's embarrassing."

Spoke huffs. "Well, I have to make up for the months of not knowing you're my soulmate somehow." She can see Mapicc's eyes tracing patterns across her face and knows she's finding constellations in Spoke's freckles again. "And don't act like you aren't down bad for me either, stupid. I see what you're doing."

Mapicc's eyes dart away like she's embarrassed, as though Spoke hasn't caught her doing this a thousand times already. "Shut up, I don't know what you're talking about." Spoke snickers. "We should probably go find Leo again anyways. And resplash invis."

Reluctantly, Spoke takes an invis potion out of her inventory. "Okay." She grabs Mapicc's hand while she can still see it, plants another quick kiss on her cheek, and splashes the potion on the ground. "See you later!"

[sam-keeper]

Most modern criticism agrees, audiences have a lot of interpretive say. So why do people still talk about media like it's being inflicted on them? Sink your teeth into the difficult films No Country for Old Men and Nosferatu and learn to get your agency back as an audience.

Art, any art, has its subject, and then it has what it thinks about that subject, but "what it thinks" doesn't sit in the art's brain--it hasn't got one, after all--but our brains, the audience's. "What it thinks" is convenient shorthand, really, for a whole relationship, between the artwork itself, the creators and what motivated its creation, the audience and what motivates their reception, and the whole context they all find themselves in. But the text also has qualities, relatively objective contents, and those contents restrict the possibility space of "what it thinks". It would be rude to imagine a bunch of scenes in a novel that never happened and claim the original text says something based on them; we can't put words in art's mouth--it hasn't got one, after all. We do speak for a text, though, and a text speaks for us. We have agency. Older forms of interpretation viewed art as a series of objective authorial intents bundled into a message beamed into our skulls, but most modern interpretive theories agree, more or less, that the audience puts work into understanding. Somehow, the way we talk about art in broader culture, particularly online, hasn't caught up. That shorthand gets taken at face value, as though the message of art (or advertisements, news articles, press releases, scientific studies, press secretary statements...) is obvious, requiring no engagement from us. I've had people scoff and say I'm misusing language when I apply the word "literacy" to this idea. Maybe that's comforting. Having agency means taking responsibility, sometimes responsibility for having a bad time, or for just being wrong. You ever come out of a movie and turn to the people you're with and say, "hey so what was that... about?" At that moment, you might find out you're alone with your interpretation--that you effectively watched a different movie from everyone else! With all the fearsome experiences art offers, and all its attendant social anxiety, why not wrestle some control back by reinterpreting yourself as a victim of art's impositions? I don't think that feeling of control lasts, though. If anything, in the long term it makes art seem like a contagion vector, full of potentially dirty feelings and memes. Media "literacy" partly just means engaging art confidently, instead of feeling like art's being imposed on you. To feel that kind of confidence, though, takes practice, and it's a hard skill to teach, at least if what you're actually testing for is a set of "objective" repeatable metrics. A lot of English classes seem to teach a straightforward "x means y" relationship between symbols or metaphors and their meaning. In response to that kind of disempowering rote formula approach, some people reassert their agency by just... pretending nothing means anything, which feels defiant and powerful, but cuts down everything they can say about art to "Yes!" and "No!" What can this kind of audience do when a work puts two characters in contention, has them spell out a core worldview disagreement, and offers a question: who is right? They can only fall back on reliable common sense (you know, all the unexamined stuff they've absorbed from culture and the people around them, or just their gut emotional responses), arriving at what they believe is the obvious only answer. Too bad, because one of the best ways to train your interpretive agency muscles is looking at exactly those moments of character disagreement. Like, take a look at Anton Chigurh and Carla Jean Moss in No Country For Old Men, maybe, sure. It's a popular movie, a great, iconic scene, and fun to talk about, so let's take a look. At the end of the movie, Anton Chigurh, philosopher-hitman, is going to kill this basically innocent woman; it sucks, and we all hate it, right? I guess it's a bit more than a character disagreement. But it is a disagreement in the sense that they're gonna have a conversation before Chigurh and Carla Jean go to their respective fates, and that conversation is pivotal to the question of what the movie is "about".

Read More

[vitaminseetarot]

Pick a Bird: Your Next Romantic Getaway 💞🦢

*･ﾟ✧Masterlist | *･ﾟ✧Ko-Fi

Hey y'all, welcome back to a new pick a card reading. This reading is all about a possible rendezvous you and your special date or partner will have during the most pleasant time of year. Why Pokémon? I am strongly tempted to do a series of nostalgia themed pick a card readings, from different games and series, and similar looking birds showed up in my 3D card deck, so why not start with the classic trio?

[*this future person refers to someone romantically special and significant in your life. This PAC is for anyone single or in a relationship, and also LGBT+ friendly.]

Pick which legendary bird Pokémon calls to you. You can also view the 3D bird cards below to choose your pile:

Pile 1 - Articuno / Blue Bird ❄ Pile 2 - Zapdos / Yellow Bird ⚡ Pile 3 - Moltres / Red Bird 🔥

Pile 1 - Articuno ❄

3 of Swords, Queen of Cups, Knight of Swords, XII Hanged Man; 14 - Grace, Desert - Vision Quest, 30. Mimicry, Patterns - be your own witness, Forget-me-not - Rememberance

With your cards, I see your next romantic outing will feel sentimental and quaint. This pile is more focused on the depth of the connection that's made right away, so I'm seeing a date that is quiet and laid back. From the 3 of Swords, it looks like you haven't been crazy about the last few dates you were on, or of missed opportunities in the past. Your cards are saying to leave the previous experiences aside, since your date may actually relate to some of what you've gone through. You may also feel rather jaded about the dating scene in general, but this date will be like a breath of fresh air for you. Try going into this encounter with a forgiving, clean slate mindset, and they may be easier to approach and vise versa. I'm getting that there may be some awkward silences at the start, but to persist as it's merely a surface level freeze. Your next date may be a little on the shy side, perhaps just like you, and may just need some encouragement. If you're both shy, parallel play may be something you choose to do together to start. No matter what you choose to do, this date will be one to remember for years to come.

Your date is a sensitive soul with the Queen of Cups, yet erudite with the Knight of Swords. They possess a poetic mind yet are always down for a rousing trivia game. They enjoy being intellectually stimulated by the great books yet can't help themselves but fall into Youtube rabbit holes. A dumpster truck may roll by yet they see a song to compose in it. They have a bit of refinement in them, even if they prefer wearing plain clothing. But the scientific brain doesn't take away from their inner romantic heart, it just adds to their complexity. This person is very thoughtful and polite, I'm even seeing them bringing you a small wrapped gift on the first date! Moreover, they want to know what's going on in your world, so don't be surprised if they poke around with a few questions as they're eager to get to know you better. This person will likely let you be the one to decide where to go, as they appear to be fine with just hanging out and doing their own thing.

For date ideas, I'm seeing a lot of cafés in this pile, so it may start out as small and casual. Lunch or dinner may also likely be involved. Whether you go somewhere humble or sophisticated, it's also where you will feel more free to express yourself from the heart. The place does not seem to be as important in this pile as much as the nature of the conversations you will have. I'm getting My Dinner With Andre here, so when I say long conversations, I mean looong. You will find a reason to talk to them for potentially hours, so hopefully this café will stay open late for you two! If you are spiritual, they may be inclined to discuss those topics with you in depth. Otherwise, I'm seeing a lot of nostalgia here, and they'll likely be the same age as you, so you'll get to reminisce the good old days with them. You could talk about the same things over and over and neither of you will get bored. You may even find it within you to confess things to them that you normally wouldn't feel comfortable exchanging until after you've seen each other a few times. They just have a way of making you feel comfortable enough to open up more.

If you're feeling more active, you and your date may decide to do some sightseeing, especially if there are interesting monuments or statues that would make for breaking the ice with them. You two may stroll through flower gardens, picking up ice cream along the way, enjoying peaceful sunsets next to them before gazing up at the stars. I sense education is a strong theme here, so your date may actually take place at school or in a library, where you share a study session or extracurricular together, taking time out of practice to spend moments with each other. You may be drawn to art galleries or museums where you can quietly observe with your date. With Mimicry, I see your date could have very similar interests to yours, so creating a fun activity centered around that will gradually bring you two closer. They will bring out more cerebral and curious nature in you, and your conversations could spark new understanding and ways of perceiving things. They'll leave a strong emotional impression on you, and you them, that will stick long after the date is over. Something about the way they softly speak, especially to you, that leaves you begging for a little more. Cheers, pile 1!

Pile 2 - Zapdos ⚡

XIII Death, VII Chariot, 3 of Pentacles, XX Judgement; 26 - Joy, Mountain - Strength, 44. Scavenge, Insight - bright ideas are coming, Jonquil - Power

Okay, so this group is all about the great outdoors. I can't see your next romantic getaway being cooped up inside. I'm seeing a real getaway here, an emphasis on travel. New sights, new sounds. You want a date that isn't just good, it's transformative, where you feel different coming back home than you did when you left. That's a pretty tall order, but your date is adventurous enough to try. I feel like there's something you might have put on your bucket list to do someday, for example, and should your date find out what it is, they'll be very tempted to do it with you. Always wanted to visit a historic landmark or theme park but never had a reason to go before? They'll want to go through all the excitement with you, even if they've been at that very place a million times. If they're from another culture, they'll enjoy sharing their cuisine and expanding your taste palate. Seeing you light up with bliss will make them enjoy it like it's brand new, too.

This person is likely super energetic and a little intense, so don't expect them to sit still with a meal for too long. Eventually, they'll get itchy to find the next thing to tackle. Even if they seem distracted, they are 100% on board with having you there next to them for the ride. It's just that I'm picking up so much hyperactivity with your date in particular, so make sure you two find ways to stay preoccupied the whole date. The positive side of having the Chariot here is that they'll want to get you out there in the world without straying too far out of your comfort zone. They're ever shifting in moods but also emotionally aware of how important personal boundaries are. It's all about gentle encouragement here; this person will help you get out of your shell in a way that doesn't feel so overwhelming, so you feel safe enough to explore different things to do with them. They may seem a bit standoffish at first glance, but will quickly prove their nonjudgmental, compassionate voice. They will go at your pace and be patient with you as well as others (being nice to waiters is a green flag).

Enjoying nature seems to be the first choice when it comes to this pile, although for many reasons I don't really recommend hiking in the back woods as a first date option. A small local mini golf course may be a better option for nature lovers. I would suggest finding a place close by where you can enjoy scenic views in public, like a tourist stop where they have those lookout binoculars (not actually sure what those are called lol). Boardwalk piers are a sound choice as they offer food, ocean views, and fun in one place. I'm also picking up something about a scavenger hunt here, though it may be in the form of going out shopping for strange antiques. (An adult scavenger hunt sounds fun, ngl ;_;) You may also feel inclined to scavenge through haunted or abandoned places within reason. There is a desire to check out unusual places, like streets in town with unique graffiti displays or playing a murder mystery game. A few of you may be horror fans who want to get thrills through watching a movie or trying out an escape room.

Music is also showing up here, with the girl's harp in Joy and the angel's trumpet in Judgement. I'm getting that some of you would enjoy attending a music festival or rock show, maybe even at an underground venue. If you and your date both play music, your next getaway may involve sharing a deeper bond through composing and playing together. You may inspire each other creatively through this collaboration. This is somebody who could definitely get you into a band or genre you would have never tried before were it not for their influence. They may also talk you into singing karaoke or taking dance classes with them. If this isn't music it could be some other kind of art, but I'm getting that you'll feel the urge to create something with them, like spending a day at a local paintbar. If you're up for it, go for it! They'll bring out a more bold and confident side of you who isn't afraid to take a little chance to express their artistic voice, and they'll fall for whatever you show them. Even with all this noise and activity, there will still be plenty of spaces of silence for creating a peaceful connection with them. Rock on, pile 2!

Pile 3 - Moltres 🔥

10 of Cups, VIII Strength, XXI World, 5 of Swords; 6 - Freedom, Dreamtime - Creation, 3. Anticipation, Higher Ground - rise above the noise, Geranium - Virility

Your next lovely outing will be invigorating and filled with excitement. I'm seeing city lights and hearing laughter. With 5 of Swords, your romantic outing may start as a friend group but dwindle down over the night, creating a shared space for you and your date to connect. The two of you will eventually slip away from the pack and find your own fun thing to do together, even if that means having one drive the other home. A single humble little drive or intimate conversation by the bus stop could prove more titillating than having multiple dinner dates on the schedule. Some of you may choose to wander through the expanse of the cityscape, meandering through unseen parks and finding unique hole-in-the-wall boutiques in places you thought you knew. Your date will be drawn to your spontaneity and wanderlust, or they will find a way to bring those qualities out in you. On the spot, the two of you will find ideas for where to go next, and not one minute of the night will get dull.

What I like about this date is their openness toward you; with the Strength card, they are gonna be down for whatever you feel like doing and enjoy it as if it were their plans all along. Feeding pigeons at a business park? Sure! they'll say. Trying on random clothes they'd never wear in a million years? They'll do it if it means they can do it with you. They know these moments of serendipity open a new dimension of wonder and merriment as it does yours. Perhaps you've wanted to date someone who expands your horizons and lets your curiosity run wild. A movie and dinner isn't bad per se, but it's the random sequences in between that form stronger memories. You don't want to see what they look like dressed and planned for the occasion, but when they're at their most improvisational. A date filled with pleasant surprises and random moments of joy will bring healing when dating as a whole begins to feel scripted and rehearsed. Happiness doesn't wait for a happily ever after when it can come today, and your date will know that too.

I'm getting a lot of hints for theater in the Anticipation card, next to Dreamtime. A good date idea may start as a theater show. Theater offers more variety and chances of interaction with the audience. Take them to see Rocky Horror, make sure to bring toast. A concert may be equally as engaging for the two of you, especially one that has you two dancing and screaming the whole time. You may also look into outdoor theater, as the Freedom card suggests with its lush grassy fields. There may be some adrenaline seeking here, so you may go indoor rock climbing or go-kart racing. Axe throwing sounds scary, but it's easier than it looks and a lot of fun. If you're looking for a random place to go and they ask you for suggestions, try the park. You and your date may travel to a city for a day trip and then just decide to go to a park after visiting something else and discover an incredible monument or festivity out of nowhere. It may end up being the best part of the day. So you never know what you may find while walking about in the evening.

For other date suggestions, I'm seeing house parties and nightclubs, where you come with friends initially. Some of your friends may not be too crazy about you leaving them behind for a date, so make sure boundaries are established with your friends before going out so you're all on the same page. They may not be mad at you, just checking in on you to see you're okay and safe. Finally, sport games may be another area of interest for you and your next date, especially if you bring mitts with the intent on catching any stray baseballs. You two would be the kind of date that would make silly faces up on the screen at the games if you were featured, or at least your date dreams of it! If you're on the beach and you see a volleyball net, challenge them to a game as they would love to see your competitive side! Of all piles, this is the only one where I see unplanned and on-the-spot trips and activities being arranged. If this feels outside of your comfort zone, you may feel called to choose a different pile, but it could also be that your future date will bring out this carefree and spontaneous character in you. Stay safe and have lots of fun, pile 3!

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2025, @VitaminseeTarot ™

[ozzgin]

Also I love your blogs sorry I’ve been spamming 🩷Hii Author, could you do another part for the small prehistoric reader, where she is actually really strong even though she’s small and innocent looking like stronger than Yujiro and Baki but she’s only really like that when she’s in heat. I wonder how the would react Yk 🤔

Sure! It’s been suggested in the comments as well and it does have a fun twist to it. Female characters stronger than the main cast is the one uncanonical construct that I deeply enjoy.

Baki Characters x Prehistoric! Small Reader Headcanons (II)

Featuring the Baki characters and a prehistoric but small sized reader that turns out to be unexpectedly strong.

[Baki Masterlist] [Part I]

The fighters keep a respectable distance from you in order to assure Pickle of your safety. They’d rather not pose as a threat to his mate, especially after seeing how protective he can get. He always keeps you under his watchful gaze, ready to interfere if you need to make use of his strength. At times he’s particularly anxious around you. Professor Payne has explained in more scientifically appropriate terms that you might be dealing with female specific issues. No one pressed it further.

This peaceful resolve does not sit well with Yuujirou. How very pathetic and boring that everyone concomitantly agreed to mind their own business. He itches for a little bit of action and what better way to rile up the prehistoric warrior than messing with his little protégé? He doesn’t want to risk fighting a half-assed Pickle, he wants the wrath, the readiness to kill. So with arrogant mockery he decides to give you a little nudge in front of everyone. Just a mere push, he does show mercy to weaklings like you. Baki is enraged and the other men join him. Everyone is waiting for Pickle to make his move, though bizarrely enough he just stands there, eyes wise in shock. Yuujirou didn’t expect this lack of reaction.

The Ogre is a man with battle experience and nothing can take him by surprise. It is to be noted, however, that sometimes a trade off for the sake of efficiency has to be made. A rational agent in artificial intelligence may have to take millions of variables into consideration in order to compute the most optimal solution and react to the environment. Realistically speaking, therefore, some less probable events are taken entirely out of the equation. So, for example, the idea that you would attack Yuujirou was not something his body expected to react against. The impact of your small fist was doubled by this element of surprise. His eyes roll back and his large body is thrown at quite the distance, leaving significant damage behind.

There’s a deafening silence that lingers for what seems an eternity. Baki feels a mild discomfort on the walls of his throat and he realizes his mouth has been hanging open for long enough that it almost dried up. Did you…did you just knock his father out with one single hit? He slowly turns his head to the other witnesses, wondering if this is a dream and the others will confirm it. Judging by the equally dumbfounded expressions surrounding him, he suspects fearfully that it is, in fact, something that just happened. Jack feels like he’s been kicked in the crotch. Katsumi is overwhelmed by a certain nostalgia, the nervousness he felt when he was a little child attending the Dojo for the very first time. Retsu purses his lips as a solemn frown creases his features. Tokugawa can feel the beads of sweat gathering in the folds of his wrinkled forehead.

The least impressed of the group is Pickle. Almost as if he expected it to happen, he walks up to you and grabs your shoulders before you can approach Yuujirou’s passed out body. Your face relaxes once again and you look up to him with a genuine smile, as if soothing his worries. You’ll stop here, no worries. You pat his large hands and turn around, prepared to leave the scene.

The frightful question now plagues the fighters within the arena: was Pickle protecting you from them, or has it been the other way round all along?

[justtakeout]

The Big Bang Continuum EP 2: The Coefficient of Chaos in Child-Rearing

Sheldon faces a parenting dilemma when Leonard’s hockey game clashes with Laura's newfound passion for acting, a hobby he blames on Penny. As the gang gathers at the ice rink, Sheldon tries to maintain his scientific approach, but family dynamics quickly challenge his methods. 

hi guys, this is ep2 of the tbbt webtoon! had to split what was originally ep2 into two separate episodes because of the upload limit. the next chapter will be the last one, and it'll probably take a while too since i haven’t even started it yet hahaha. hope you guys enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed making it, and i’d love to hear what you think! you can check it out here: Read The Big Bang Continuum :: The Coefficient of Chaos in Child-Rearing (Part 1) | Tapas Community Read The Big Bang Continuum :: The Coefficient of Chaos in Child-Rearing (Part 2) | Tapas Community

leonard cooper’s jersey number was supposed to be #12, but i messed up in ep1 and didn’t notice the typo until later. decided to roll with #14 instead to match his age, figured it worked out in the end.

apparently, “silver fox” means an attractive older man, which i had no idea about hhahaha. i was just throwing around team names with foxes, monkeys, and koalas. too late to change it now since the jerseys and logos are already done, and honestly, i’m too lazy to redo it t_t.

i don’t have a background in hockey or webtoons, so i pulled a lot of inspiration from dogshred (https://www.manhwatoon.com/manga/dogsred/) after seeing it recommended on reddit. mostly used it to figure out how to panel the game flow and sfx. no idea if what i did is accurate, i just went with what felt right, lol. if you’re into hockey manga, i’d say check it out, though i haven’t finished reading it yet.

for the gameplay, leonard cooper was loosely inspired by connor bedard (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxFUWS5MBOc&list=WL&index=3&pp=gAQBiAQB), but the script’s game play is a mix of:

Little Caesars VS #2 Chicago Mission 15s | Game Highlights 2019 MAHA Bantam Major State Championship - HoneyBaked vs Little Caesars Bauer Bantam Elite Invite Finals - West Van vs Delta - Extended Game HighlightsAAA Bantam Day 3 Championship (Full game, no commentary)

asked a coworker for advice on the game and terminology, but yeah i don’t really know hockey hahaha used a ton of references while drawing the scenes.

also cut a lot of scenes from the original script since it felt like it was dragging the pace haha big thanks to angel @girlnamedangel for beta reading and giving super helpful feedback!

if you notice any differences in details, it’s probably because i drew some stuff from memory while at work lol. let me know if you spot any typos or mistakes so i can avoid them next time hahaha.

[boxboxblog]

F1 Break: In the Mean Time

Alrighty, so as we are all well aware the 2024 season has officially come to a close. This means we will not see cars on track until late February and no racing until mid-March.

If you are looking at the almost 3 month long break we have ahead of us and panicking over what to do with yourself (like I often do), I find Winter break is a great way to get a little deeper knowledge on F1 and it's history.

Shows or Movies:

Drive to Survive (Netflix): Controversial, but fun, this "docuseries" makes the behind the scenes of F1 into a real spectacle. As long as you take a lot of their insinuations about people with a grain of salt, it's good fun and helps get view into the politics of F1.

Rush (Prime or AppleTV): A rather dramatized version of the Lauda v Hunt rivalry, but good fun.

Hunt v Lauda (Prime): If you want a less Hollywood look at this rivalry, this documentary is great.

The Formula 1 Story (YouTube): Covers the creation and evolution of F1 and it's history.

Schumacher (Netflix): Documentary on the 7x WDC's life, career, and legacy.

A Life of Speed: The Juan Manuel Fangio Story (Netflix): Covers the story of Fangio and his championships wins.

Senna: No Fear, No Limits, No Equal (Netflix): Documentary about Ayrton Senna, has a habit of saintifying Senna but is quite informative.

Fernando (Prime): A documentary about Fernando Alonso during his time racing with IndyCar. Interesting view into another series with a familiar face.

Grand Prix Driver (Prime): A short series following McLaren during their 2017 pre-season. Great look into what teams do over the break and how they prepare.

Villeneuve Pironi: Racing's Untold Tragedy (Max): A look into the Villeneuve-Pironi rivalry and it's tragic end, seen from the perspective of both of their families.

One: Life on the Limit (AppleTV): Looks into safety throughout F1's history and the early risks involved in F1.

Science of F1 Design (YouTube): Mini-series that dives into the technical side of F1, on the official F1 channel.

Podcasts:

F1: Beyond the Grid: Official from F1, this showcases interviews with drivers, TPs, and other important figures in F1 history.

Bring Back V10s: a deep-dive into the V10 era from the 90s to the early 200s.

Missed Apex: Dives into more detailed and technical things. Can be a bit biased, but c'est la vie.

Parc Ferme: Goes into race strategies and regulations.

The Race F1: Race analysis, technical breakdowns, etc.

EngineBraking: The hosts worked as engineers in F1 and have great insight.

Shift+F1: Very beginner friendly look into F1, light and humerous.

Books:

How to Build a Car by Adrian Newey: If you are interested in the more technical aspects of F1, these insights from possibly the greatest F1 car engineer of all time would be a fascinating read.

The Mechanic by Marc Priestley: Stories from a McLaren mechanic about life inside the paddock.

The Winning Formula by Ross Brawn: Dives into strategies behind winning teams.

Life to the Limit by Jenson Button: A humorous look into Button's career, is pretty lighthearted and fun to read.

Survive.Drive.Win by Nick Fry: The story of Brawn GPs 2009 championship.

F1 Mavericks by Pete Biro: Dives into innovators in F1 throughout its history, from drivers to TPs to engineers.

The Death of Ayrton Senna by Richard Williams: A heavily researched look into Senna's career.

The Physics of Racing by Brian Beckman: A very scientific approach to understanding how F1 cars run.

F1: All The Races by Roger Smith: A detailed account of every single F1 race ever. Pretty hefty, but interesting.

Formula 1: The Champions by Maurice Hamilton: Profiles of every single F1 champion and a look into how they got there.

My Life in Formula 1 by Niki Lauda: A great insight into of of the F1 legends himself, goes through his career and his own personal viewing on his rivalry with James Hunt.

Popular YouTube Channels:

Chain Bear: Goes into F1 technical aspects in simple ways, such as what ground effect is and how the tires operate.

Driver61: Explains car performance, driving techniques, and race strategy from an ex-racing car driver.

CYMotorsport: Goes into F1 controversies, innovations, and strategies.

The Race: Dives into different controversies and different f1 happenings as well as race overviews.

F1 Reverse: Dives into different times in F1 history, as well as some gossip here and there.

Nico Rosberg: Info from the mouth of an F1 champion, does some race analysis and analysis of particular race tracks (I like his How to Master series the most)

All Time Great Races:

You can also rewatch some old races, especially if you have the F1TV subscription. I will list some super great races to watch.

1994 Australian GP

1996 Spanish GP

1998 Belgian GP

1998 European GP

2005 Japanse GP

2008 Brazilian GP

2011 Canadian GP

2014 Bahrain GP

2019 German GP

Other Motorsports:

Finally, diving into other motorsports during this time is super doable in my opinion. F1 is not alone in this massive world, and their are dozens of other very interesting series. MotoGP is one of my all time favorites, and is racing on two wheels instead of four. If you think F1 drivers are crazy for doing what they do, just wait until you see someone fall off a bike and skid across the pavement at 150 mph, then you will understand real crazy. IndyCar is also a blast, and although people tend to equate it to F1 it is very different. I will list some great documentaries/series that dive into other motorsports below.

MotoGP Unlimited (Prime): A look into the 2021 MotoGP season, follows riders and teams. Great first look into how that world works.

Fastest (Prime): A look into the MotoGP rivalry between Valentino Rossi and Jorge Lorenzo during the 2011 season.

Marc Marquez: All In (Prime): Story about MotoGP champion Marc Marquez and his return to racing after an intense injury.

100 Days to Indy (Netflix): Story about the drivers in IndyCar and their path to the Indy 500.

Nascar: Full Speed (Netflix): A documentary that follows a few teams and drivers as they take part in the championship.

NASCAR: The Rise of American Speed (Prime): Explores the history of this sport, super duper interesting especially with the similarities and differences to F1.

Alrighty, I hope this post is helpful! I will be doing some more series and posts throughout break, but if anyone has anything they wish to know about as always my asks are open!

Cheers,

-B

[entropyvoid]

So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.

He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.

And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.

Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.

We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.

And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”

And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.

Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?

[cyren-myadd]

Kiri does not have epilepsy

So I saw this POST on reddit asking why people dislike the scene where Ronal succeeds in waking up Kiri with Na'vi medicine where Max and Norm fail with their scientific equipment. It sparked a really interesting discussion about how traditional vs modern medicine is depicted in Avatar, but I also noticed some confusion and I wanted to clarify something:

Kiri does not have epilepsy. Joshua Izzo himself confirmed it during Omaticon. Norm and Max are explicitly stated to be wrong in their diagnosis.

I believe Norm and Max explained Kiri's condition to the best of their abilities, but their knowledge of Eywa, and the extent of Eywa's capabilities and effects on those who make tsaheylu with her, is limited. This is why Ronal was successful in waking Kiri up. Ronal may not have the advanced medical knowledge the science guys have, but she has a much better understanding of Eywa. And for people who argue it was just a coincidence that Kiri woke up after being treated by Ronal, remember, this is a movie, not real life. James Cameron and co wrote that scene and made the decision to have Kiri wake up only after Ronal treated her. If this was a real life situation, I'd say it was just coincidence that Kiri woke up after receiving traditional treatment, but this is a movie and there's no such thing as coincidences when there's a room full of writers pulling the strings. Whatever the reason, James Cameron chose to have Ronal's traditional treatment succeed where Norm and Max's scientific approach failed.

However, I want to add that I do not believe Cameron meant this scene to portray traditional medicine as superior to modern medicine, at least, not intentionally. I can't speak for all countries, but in the US I know measles and other dangerous diseases have resurfaced due to a rise in people rejecting modern medicine. Spreading the ideology that we don't need modern medicine is dangerous, and I completely understand the concern that one of the biggest movies in the world is trying to spread this message. As far as I am aware, James Cameron does not support anti-vax or other harmful ideologies like that, so I believe this message was accidental and misunderstood due to him trying to get a different point across.

My understanding is that Kiri's "coma" was caused by a metaphysical experience, not a medical emergency. Sure, there was a medical aspect to it since Max picked up epilepsy-like symptoms on her brain scan, but the episode occurred while she was having a metaphysical communion with her dead mom, not because of a medical condition. I believe the whole healing scene was just Cameron trying to emphasize that Kiri's condition was metaphysical, not medical. This is further backed up by Izzo explicitly confirming that Kiri does not have epilepsy, ruling out the medical diagnosis. I believe message they were trying to send was that a metaphysical problem needed a metaphysical solution, not that traditional treatments are better than modern medicine for every problem. Think of fantasy stories like Harry Potter where they use magical potions to heal magical injuries. When magic is used to heal in fiction, it's not meant to decry modern medicine, it's just using a fantasy element for a fantasy problem in a fantasy story. Same thing with Kiri. Na'vi problem = Na'vi solution. In fact, Cameron has gone out of his way to show that modern medicine is highly advanced in the Avatar universe since it's explicitly stated they have the technology to cure paralyzed people (for a price).

Unfortunately, I understand where the anti-modern medicine interpretation comes from and I believe Cameron could've written the scene differently to avoid that, but it's too late to change it now. I hope we will get a better explanation of Kiri's abilities and her condition in Avatar 3, one that balances a scientific understanding with Na'vi spirituality.

TLDR: In universe, it is factual that Ronal's treatment worked, Norm and Max were wrong, and Kiri does not have epilepsy. You can still dislike this scene and think James Cameron portrayed modern medicine irresponsibly, but that doesn't change the facts in universe.

[slowd1ving]

ACT II: WITHER ✦ . 　⁺ VIL SCHOENHEIT

Vil Schoenheit and second place aren't supposed to be a thing. He's supposed to be the very embodiment of perfection, so why the hell is someone else's name usurping his crown on the Potions leader board? In which our starring actor cannot quench the flames of academic rivalry and resentment that consume him, nor can he fathom the enigma that you are. gn! scientist! reader warnings: contains nsfw but only later, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for book five, canon-compliant violence

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

BREACH THE IMMEASURABLE CHASM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ✧ ･ﾟ NEXT PART

Scene I: Rivalry . 　⁺

Vil’s not quite sure when his coldness towards you turns into unadulterated rivalry, but he thinks it started in the middle of the next Advanced Potions class, where Professor Crewel had asked a question and both your hands shot up immediately to answer.

“Shoenheit,” Crewel utters. You put your hand down, shrugging good-naturedly, but Vil can see past that forced body language into the annoyance of that casual gesture.

“The pH in which that particular enzyme denatures should be 2.8. Enzymes after that point should be avoided and Silvertear root is typically added in to continue as the second stage’s catalyst,” Vil’s voice is clear and articulate. Crewel nods in approval and continues the lecture, and he thinks that’s where your feelings of rivalry started blossoming.

He notices the little looks you send his way; the way your eyes are half-lidded in exasperation tell him everything he needs to know. You’ve been goaded into approaching the bait he’s left. No use in crushing you if you aren’t at your full potential, right? That’s the way it should be.

He taunts you with snide comments; you fire back almost immediately. You’re not as bashful as you initially look. This hatred is more cathartic than the deep resentment he has for Neige. It consumes him. It eats at his mind, his heart. When he shoots his movies, you’re always there at the back of his mind, taunting him into becoming impossibly beautiful. Adela’s only got praises for those emerging “fierce eyes” of his.

“What’d you get?” you peer over his papers every time he gets them back. He doesn’t know when sitting next to you becomes a second thought.

“You little fucker,” you always pout in mock-sadness when you see that red circled 100% on his written exams, before showing your 90% on the test that you had to verbally translate for Crewel to be able to mark it.

“You’re always so vulgar,” he scoffs back. He scoffs again when he sees those stupid doodles on the corner of your test paper.

Your remarks only extend to when you sit next to him in the laboratory. Otherwise, you ignore him when walking around the school, always focusing on whoever you’re talking to. It’s always those ruffians of first-years; you’re in the company of that red-haired potato and that dark-haired tuber almost daily. Regularly, you’re seen chatting with Rook. Vil watches from a distance, watching the hunter eagerly discuss the latest scientific theory with you. He watches you accept kisses on the hand from the vice Housewarden with a smile and laugh.

He does not care.

He watches you get along with Leona, of all people. He watches the way the lion actually listens to your suggestions if you have input on Spelldrive practice. Why are you suddenly such a precious commodity? Even the notoriously standoffish Azul makes an effort to at least greet and smile at you if he sees you, even after his Overblot (which you partly caused!). If Vil happens to be walking nearby, you’re always in the company of at least one of your friends, even if it’s only that unsightly cat.

He doesn’t think he cares.

He doesn’t think you care either. If you’re standing next to him in line, or bump into him at the library, you’re always carefully civil. Your eyes slide off him as easily as oil, looking through him. Do you not treat this rivalry seriously? Whatever remark he has always catches in his throat as you act as if he’s nothing more than a goddamn wall. It only fuels his resentment - it has to go somewhere, right?

Adela’s remarked that his eyes, when modelling, have a more wistful quality - nothing like the “fierce” look his fans had come to adore. This new look also garners a lot of popularity, with throngs of fans in his comments expressing their adoration for this newfound look.

Does he not take up your thoughts at all like you take up his?

Scene II: Song . 　⁺

It starts up all over again after the winter break. The sky is grey, peppered with clouds that slowly sprinkle snow all over Night Raven College. Vil’s heard rumours from Rook of you being involved in yet another Overblot; this made four in just as many months. He feels a headache blossoming just thinking about it.

He shivers as he takes his seat in the laboratory. The rankings should be posted within the next three weeks - plenty of time to brush up on his skills for the final assignment. Plenty of time to take back that number one spot. It’s been occupied by you ever since you arrived. Your practical work with potions is always polished to absolute perfection, though your grades with written work rarely ever meet that 100. But when they do, you turn to him with that shit eating grin on your face.

Speak of the devil. The distinct rhythm of your footsteps jars him out of his thoughts. Vil busies himself by looking at himself with his cosmetic mirror. Twice he adjusts his tie, ignoring you all the while. If you want to ignore him, he’ll do the same.

He doesn’t know what he was hoping for. You simply open your notebook while propping your chin up again on your hand, doodling and rewriting your previous notes in your strange Latin alphabet. Vil takes in your tired appearance, how you look more exhausted than usual. A drop of pity splashes into his turbulent mind. Pity. That has no room in his mind, especially with the Song and Dance competition only a few weeks away.

Resentment fuels him to new heights. His dance practice runs flawlessly; spite powers him like an engine. The aches of his muscles leave his mind feeling euphoric as he stretches them out.

It’s only when he spots you and that idiot trio talking to Epel that his good mood shatters instantly. How dare you distract him from singing practice? Vil’s body reacts before he can fully think; he marches himself over to the well with a scowl on his face as he lectures all of you for disrupting such a crucial time. He does not miss the way your eyes smoulder with annoyance - his walk back to Pomefiore is one with a cheerful gait.

To his revulsion, you’re somehow roped into being the manager of the group after the SDC auditions, by Crowley of all people. Even worse, he’s forced to sleep in Ramshackle Dorm with the rest of the team to gain some camaraderie. It’s logical, he can’t help but admit it, but the thought of living in the same space as you makes him shudder. Even worse than that moth-eaten couch he’s currently perching on in the living room after the first day’s gruelling rehearsal. It’s a far cry for Pomefiore, but he’s always been a stickler for routine.

“Hey Rook-” your voice intrudes on his little bubble as you bound into the room, holding what seems to be a microscope and a bundle of mechanical junk, including electrical wiring. Vil swivels his head towards you, but you don’t even deign to look at him. Instead, you approach Kalim who sits criss cross on the carpet in front of the fireplace.

“Have you seen Rook?” you ask Kalim hurriedly. “I need that hunter for an experiment.”

“Nope! He might be in the kitchen though!” Kalim’s enthusiastic voice betrays his excitement. “What kinda experiment are you planning?”

“It’s like you’ve robbed Ignihyde,” Epel comments from behind Vil. “S’full of stuff like that.”

“Just some magic resistivity testing,” you explain, rummaging around in your stash of junk. Your eyebrows furrow and you glance around the room. “Have any of you seen my ammeter?”

As luck would have it, there’s an oddly shaped box lying half-submerged in those ugly rags you’d call cushions on the other end of the couch Vil sits on. A large triangular symbol is painted in black with a circle around it. Vil picks it up wordlessly and clears his throat. Your eyes turn to him finally - finally! - and you snatch the box up eagerly.

“Cool, thanks,” your voice is already slipping away as you turn around, a jive in your step as you seek the hunter.

“Good luck in your experiment,” Kalim calls out after you - with the way you eagerly yell something back indistinctly, Vil is sure you won’t need it.

Scene III: Interlude . 　⁺

Between the constant rehearsing and shaping those potatoes into something somewhat presentable, Vil expects the urge to compete with you to subside. It doesn’t. The fire within his blood isn’t beaten out by the long training he makes himself undertake - it doesn’t rest when he shuts his eyes either. That gnawing feeling of proving himself is fighting to be let out.

“Professor,” Vil’s voice is slightly shaky as he approaches Crewel. Normally he would’ve thought everything out before he came here, but his legs moved before his head had a chance to input anything. It’s been happening more and more lately, and he hates the feeling.

“What is this about? Aren’t you rehearsing for the showcase?” Crewel sounds slightly surprised at Vil’s appearance at his office; it’s very rare, after all, to see him when the SDC period begins.

“I want to hold the poison assessment,” Vil doesn’t need to specify to Crewel what this means. Crewel’s eyes soften with worry, but Vil doesn’t need any of that.

“There’s only one person who could have prompted this,” Crewel murmurs his sympathies to the shaking youth. His eyes flick down to his desk, searching through the schedule for the next few weeks. “It’s unorthodox for a non-Pomefiore student to- but.. if that is what you wish, pup.”

Scene IV: Resistivity . 　⁺

The date for the poison assessment is set for the week before the SDC. Vil receives the missive from Crewel; you, no doubt, have received the same one. For an assessment of this magnitude, there’s several days of waiting for the poisons to be tested and assessed by not only Crewel, but a panel of researchers. It’s a big deal.

It’s how Vil became the Housewarden.

Unorthodox. He supposes this whole ordeal is; the challenger is supposed to be the one vying for the seat of Housewarden. Instead, the Pomefiore Housewarden is challenging someone who isn’t even in Pomefiore. And for what?

It’s the ultimate challenge. The laboratory will be his stage for victory.

You shouldn’t even be allowed to undertake the assessment, but then again, you’re always the exception, aren’t you? Vil chokes back a hysterical laugh. He has to prove himself. One way or the other. He has to beat both you and Neige. Being reduced to second place isn’t an option anymore. At all.

A knock resounds on the wood of his room in Ramshackle. It must be Rook. Surely…

“Come in,” Vil feels as if he’s speaking through water. He doesn’t know why he feels so hollow.

The door creaks open. Instead of Rook, there you stand, holding that damned missive. Your brows are furrowed. You look the part of the mad scientists, with your customised lab coat and goggles still propped up on your nose. The smell of matchsmoke emanates off you in light tendrils. Vil just gazes at you. He doesn’t comprehend you.

“What’s this supposed to be? A duel? Rook just told me to go find you,” you unfurl the scroll again, squinting at the runes before you. With a start, Vil realises that one, he’s not even told you about the assessment, and two, you can’t even read the information anyway. What a fool he’s made of himself.

“Allow-” Vil clears his throat as his voice gives out. “-allow me to explain.”

“Go ahead,” you stride over to him, placing the missive in his outstretched hand. Up close, the coppery tang of wires adds itself to the kaleidoscope of scents he can feel. Underneath all the various chemical traces, clings a pure, unadulterated scent of.. the Dream Flower? Faintly, he remembers eavesdropping on your conversation - les fleurs des rêves. Somniablossoms. That’s what he smells on you, beneath all the conflicting scents.

“Right, the missive,” Vil scans over the parchment; it’s essentially the same letter he’s received, with a few inconsistencies. “It appears you have been selected as the student challenged for the poison assessment. Though you are not a Pomefiore student, your application has been approved by a figure of authority. Your assessment is to brew your most potent poison within a three-hour time limit, supervised by Professor Divus Crewel, alongside your opponent. The poisons are then sent to be assessed across a seven point criteria. May the legacy of the Fairest Queen guide you.”

There’s a long pause. Some rustling. Vil looks up from the letter to see you wiping away smudges on your goggles with the hem of your lab coat.

“Well,” you finally speak. Vil waits. “I’m assuming you’re my opponent?”

You’re taking this differently than he had expected. He thought you’d sneer down on him for this desperate challenge; that’s what he would’ve done had someone challenged him. Deep down, he isn’t surprised by your nonchalance - it’s something that’s intrinsically rooted in your being.

“Yes,” Vil begins to explain himself, but you hold up a hand to silence him. He shuts his mouth.

“Spare me the details,” you shrug it off. Like always. Vil feels a bitter laugh surge within him; it takes everything he’s got to suppress it. “I’ve got interesting news from my findings with Rook.”

The suspense builds. You take your time before your next words, folding your goggles and tucking them into your lab coat pocket.

“Come to my lab.”

Vil blinks, then follows you out the door. It’s a relief. You haven’t yelled at him, cursed him out, or anything someone else in this position would’ve done-

“Look, I really don’t like you,” you mutter, as if you’re deliberating whether you want Vil to hear you or not. “You’re an arrogant prick who picks fights for reasons that are beyond me. But I want to make something extremely clear before we start the assessment.”

You shove open a door before Vil has time to register what you’ve just said. It’s strangely gratifying to be the villain in someone else’s story for a reason other than his beauty.

A gust of warm air barrels past him as you barge into what appears to be your lab. An array of tabletops are arranged in the room, and shoved on top are all sorts of appliances he doesn’t even have names for. He can vaguely make out a fractional distiller perched precariously on the edge of a table, but the clanking and whirring machinery elsewhere throw him for a loop.

Rook stands in the corner of the lab, peering through what appears to be a microscope. He’s also decked out in what appears to be spares of your lab gear, judging by the ugly little doodles embroidered on the fabric. Not drawn on - embroidered. It’s such a waste of thread he almost laughs out loud.

“Welcome to my lab,” your greeting is completely monotone. “Where the equipment here is every scientist’s wet dream.”

Vil ignores this.

“I would know,” Rook chimes in, beckoning you over. Vil also ignores this. You make your way around a table to look at whatever’s on the slide, grabbing your class notepad and scribbling something down.

“The structure’s slightly different,” you murmur, twisting the fine adjustment knob. Vil wants to scream. You’ve invited him here and already you’re sidetracked.

“What’s going on?” Vil crosses his arms over his chest. He feels out of his league here, and as he spots you and Rook sharing a glance that feeling only seems to worsen.

“Magical resistivity,” your pencils scritches the side of your neck as you pull out a stool and sit on it. “It’s the reason why none of your potions or whatever you call it ever achieves that 100.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Vil scoffs as he stares you down. You meet his gaze.

“Yeah, because I’ve just found it,” you slide your notepad towards Vil across the table. He picks it up, noticing the two diagrams of what appear to be cells drawn on the page. One side is a typical animal cell here, whereas the other… the other appears to be missing a few organelles.

“It’s a side by side comparison of one of my skin cells and Rook’s,” your voice contains an element of barely restrained excitement. “Notice those structures in his? Those magic generator thingies?”

“Yes,” Vil’s heart is slowly starting to race.

“From examining the flora cells here, they’ve got a key difference against the ones in my world. That extra structure is what generates magic power in people here, and it extends to plants here as well,” your eyes begin to light up. “Then, I began questioning why my yield in Potions is so much better than everyone else’s. Rook’s kindly told me that 100 point potions are practically unheard of here, and it occurred more than once so it’s clearly not a coincidence right?”

“Right,” Vil’s mouth is dry.

“So, I ran some magic circuits using some equipment I borrowed, and some stuff I tinkered with, and I used both my hair and Rook’s to test for conductivity of magic. By hooking Rook’s magic pen up to the circuit, he could feed magic directly into the circuit.”

You motion for him to turn the page, where a page of incoherent scribbles meets his eyes. Vil’s eyes almost roll back into his head with exasperation.

“When my hair was hooked up, there was no magic lost - the initial magic was identical to the place where my hair was. But when Rook’s hair was hooked up… the magic output was only around 96%. And when we tested skin cells, his fell to around 94%, whereas mine remained constant.”

A pause.

“So when potions here are made, there’s always a margin of error in the precision, because of the magical resistance in your very being suppressing the natural magic yield of ingredients. Of course, this means I’m more susceptible to the spells here… so it’s not a complete win,” your ramble slowly dwindles out. Vil feels his eyes about to burst from their sockets. Of course. That consistent 100 in your potion work.

“Plus, my refinery skills are so unbelievably sexy,” you puff out your chest proudly. “It’s like those triple threats in theatres.”

So what’s the third skill? Vil almost allows the biting remark to leave his lips before he restrains himself.

“Anyways, I’m going to wear some lab-issued rubber gloves for the actual poison assessment, so that should bring that magic resistivity up, since the gloves are made here,” you stand up from your stool, walking over to Vil. Your eyes are half-lidded with a deep annoyance.

“I’m going to beat you from square one,” you promise. Vil wouldn’t want any less effort from you.

“I adore the tension here; what a truly stunning display of beauty,” Rook chimes in, and Vil can practically hear the stars in his eyes.

“How did you get Crowley to fund all this?” Vil suddenly asks, as if noticing your lab for the first time. The equipment here almost gleams with technological prowess, and he’s genuinely curious.

“He didn’t,” you shrug. “I’ve made a side hustle selling potions, and I buy old equipment from both Crewel and Ignihyde and convert them into models I’ve seen in my world.”

“Don’t you need a licence for potion selling?” Vil frowns.

“I can’t read,” you shrug again. “That law’s irrelevant.”

Before Vil can respond to whatever the hell that response was, you shoo him away.

“C’mon Rook, I’ve gotta show Crewel these findings,” Vil can faintly hear your voice as the door firmly closes in his face.

[positivelybeastly]

Love reading through your analyses and I was wondering if you had insight on something I noticed with Hank/Beast and Kurt/Nightcrawler: writers often use both of them in the visible mutation metaphor and emotional cores, but Kurt's approach is more from faith and Hank's is more from curiosity. Often when one or either are gone/dead/changed, things seem to get worse for the Team overall.

Do you think those two would benefit each other's characters? Even just to have spirited philosophical discussion?

So, this actually touches on a funny thing that I've noticed with Beast and Nightcrawler over time - which is that they're almost never on the same team together, probably precisely because they serve an extremely similar function in a team composition, for the reasons you've kind of touched on here.

They are, after all, both heavily visibly mutated individuals who were, or are, considered figures of great integrity and morality, with a strong code of ethics and a depth of feeling that expresses itself in a deeply vivacious personality - romantic, friendly, charming, and erudite.

Therefore, having them both on a team is, unfortunately, somewhat redundant.

That being said! They do still interact, and they're shown to be sources of great comfort and friendship for one another. Their first meetings were - somewhat inauspicious . . .

See, this is the funny thing about old comics - storylines just flow and flow and flow. Comics didn't stop after ten issues and get restarted with a new #1 every few months, they just ran and ran and ran, and the pacing reflected that.

There aren't usually month long gaps where you can assume nothing happened and people just got to hang out, they're working hard! Hank has been working with the Avengers so much that he literally hasn't even had time to meet the new X-Men properly! Wild.

But, eventually, things did slow down, and they got a chance to properly socialise, and, as expected, they got along like a house on fire.

Like, these two are just born to be friends. They have so much in common. Where Hank leans more to the obscure, the erudite, and the scientific, Kurt leans more to the dashing, the swashbuckling, and, of course, the religious, but they're still both fundamentally cut from the same cloth - acrobatic, charming, philosophical, heroic, fun.

But, that same alike quality means you don't get a ton of interaction between them, so I cling to what they do have. One of my favourite interactions between them is in Nightcrawler's 2004 solo series.

First off, absolutely adore Hank in this art style. The fact that the artist decided to include the detail of his fur poking out of the shirt like that is just. It transfixes me. I really want to go over and just. Run my fingers through his side fur. But mostly, I just like their chemistry? Hank's a great supporting character because he's so emotionally intelligent and reflective, and he's great at giving people perspective, usually with a healthy dose of sarcasm and teasing.

That being said, this scene is always the one I point to whenever I say that the X-Men really have no idea what's going on in Hank's head a lot of the time, because this took place after Hank had been psychically brutalised, nearly beaten to death, and one of his best friends had just been murdered - and he's doing a really very good job of hiding that trauma.

So much so that Kurt thinks he's just fine. He's just fine. There's nothing to worry about. But it's not Kurt's fault, and it's nowhere near unique to him, either. He had no way to know, he had his own stuff going on (the subject matter of this solo series, as it happens), and Hank is doing well enough that it isn't interfering with things, so, let him deal with it in peace, I suppose.

At least on this occasion.

Kurt is, after all, an emotionally intelligent and caring individual. You can't stop Nightcrawler from trying to help where he can. And I think that even just the reaching out, just the show of support, can be enough for a character like Hank.

Moments like these matter, in my opinion. It's important to show that teammates and friends care about each other, in the moment to moment stories, otherwise it can all feel very impersonal and like no-one cares about one another. This is how you establish dynamics over years, even between characters who have, technically speaking, never really been on a team together before.

The next big milestone I can think of comes after the X-Men's move to Utopia, where, again, Hank and Kurt don't share a ton of panel time together, but . . .

This is one of the few times you'll ever hear anyone say that Hank was right. And it's not really a surprise that it comes from Kurt, because, again, these men are cut from the same cloth. They come at it from different angles, but they believe in much the same things.

And . . . that's why it hits so hard when Kurt dies.

I don't necessarily agree with the decision to have Hank break from the literal funeral procession to call Scott out for Kurt's death. Some fans of Nightcrawler really appreciate that moment, because it shows how much Kurt's death affected Hank, but I personally just. Don't think it tracks, for Hank to be quite that disrespectful.

After the funeral, or even before, but during it? Nah. Matt Fraction made a good few Hank characterisation choices I don't agree with, and this was one of them.

This felt a bit more apropos.

Remember what I said about how little moments build to dynamics between characters who have never been on teams together? I buy this moment so much more with the context of that moment from Endangered Species, where Kurt is literally positioned as the light trying to pull Hank out of the dark path he's following with obsessive fervour. The fact that he was trying went a long way. Hank felt it, even if he didn't take him up on it at the time. That moment mattered.

And that's why I absolutely buy Hank's reaction when Kurt came back to life.

Hank believes in Kurt. He believes the very best of him. On teams where Hank can often feel alone or isolated, someone like Kurt will reach out, and make him feel connected, and welcome, and pull him back. Temper his scientific pessimism and realism with optimism and belief. Restore his fervour, and remind him of simpler, happier times.

A lot of the best scientists, who have contributed the most to scientific inquiry, were religious, because for a lot of them, there's no real conflict between science and religion, they're both two sides of the same coin, in a way - a belief in a higher power. It's just how they react to that higher power that changes.

And while Hank was explicitly religious for a while, I always interpreted him as losing that faith over the years, becoming bogged down in the real over the sublime as what he went through wore him down. Someone like Kurt was able to spark that in him again. Maybe not his faith, per se, but at the very least belief in the human spirit.

It's important. As you say, massive benefit to each other's characters. Underrated dynamic, these two. Absolutely love 'em.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ i thought about this plot over and over, and I hesitated publishing it since i don’t want to deviate so much from everything but i said fuck it, so now ere i am, greeting y’all with ‘wassup villain’

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @shuna-boin

⚠️ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ Mommy issues, mention of death,, profane language, plot progression. Pronouns keep shifting bc Miles thinks you’re a guy. A bit confusing? Anyways, congrats with your debut. I’ve got uh.. A little surprise? Enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"Park behind the building B, McLaren. I’ll have to deal with a separate matter, for now, call backup."

"Yes, miss."

Ring. Ring.

Your head pivots at the sound of your phone’s ringing, eagerly answering the call without having to look into the ID, knowing a thing or two about a certain someone’s timing.

“What’s going on so early in the morning?” Your father haggardly asks. You could already smell the stench of his morning breath from the car.

“We have trespassers in the Warehouse.” You start. “Two of them, partners. The duo we know as the Prowlers.”

“What?” You hear the morning grogginess laced in his voice. “Who leaked the information?”

“I’ve updated Morrison and he’s currently investigating the black market. I suspect a traitor.”

“Evidence?”

“There’d been no reports of outsiders entering the vicinity. All employees have been given fake addresses and all of their gadgets have been monitored— and so far, no one’s been flagged, so my guess is.. A higher up who’s sold us out.”

There you go.

“… I’ll look into it.” Your father mumbles. “Make sure that nothing is released into the media. The election is coming soon, we don’t want to do anything that’ll stir the public.”

“Understood.”

And the call ends just like that.

You blankly look at the road ahead of you, skin itching from the tightness and texture of your leather coat. Laid before your lap was a flat screen, in it were nine boxes— each playing a variety of scenes brought to you by the hidden cameras. Across every box, two swift figures maneuvered past the rooms with incredible ease. Several workers and scientists were sprawled across the jagged floors, motionless like corpses. You grimaced at the possibility of them being dead, but after seeing the thick gas emanating throughout every crevice of the building, you safely assumed that they were simply knocked out.

The Warehouse housed one of your father's investments; an Oscorp-Alchemax experiment funded by the elites, done underground and tested on prisoners to find some sort of super serum. When the new money folks thrusted themselves into the world of High society, most of the higher elites came to applaud the idea of one man.

Harry Osborn.

As a kid, you grew up aspiring to be like Harry. Always so friendly and approachable to anyone and everyone he’s ever met.

He did it so effortlessly that you recognized his niceness as a talent.

Harry came from second generation money— hailing this scientific empire called Oscorp. Having been brought up by his father, Norman, who was an industrialist, Harry was all things sciencey.

After his father's death, Harry sought out a blueprint of his father's past works, finding a journal containing the records of several hypotheses in regard to a variety of drugs. A sort of instruction to turn into a superhuman being, he claims, that his father had put into mind but never really practiced.

A handful of the higher-ups adored the impressionable idea, one of its primary investors being your father. You never really understood his reasons, but when the drug seemingly began showing fruitful results, your father set you up under Antonne's name to supervise Warehouse 317 after Harry entrusted your family to house the experiment.

So at that moment, you weren't you.

And Miles wasn't Miles.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. But he never bothered to really ask since his Uncle seemed tense all throughout the journey.

When Aaron told him to strap up for a sudden mission, he wasn't expecting a raid— nor was he expecting him to bring him to a hidden laboratory containing all these alien-like fuckeries. From glass beakers to drums filled to the brim with some sort of neon liquid, it all varied in levels of strangeness. Everywhere he looked, he could find the same circular, yellow warning sticker staring right back at him. Behind his digital mask, he skims past the unconscious workers— checking every crevice to see if anyone had escaped the incapacitating agent.

“According to the drive, the stuff are located in the north building.” His uncle’s voice snaps him out of the haze. “I’ll be heading there. I’m sure you can fend for yourself?”

“F’course I can,” Miles answered. “I can knock a bitch or two out with these.” He grinned while unfoldding his claw.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth? Watch yo tongue.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aaron pats his shoulder. “Record the evidence, I’ll go find the blueprints.”

With a single nod, Miles sets off with his mission in mind. When the holographic interface materializes from his wrist-mounted control panel, he activates the scanner with a light tap. The digitalized purple light cascades over the room, gathering physical data with each passing step.

He prided in his cut-edge tech— developed into great usage by his and his uncle’s hands. In a way, it reassured him that he had epically great potential, despite the current crisis going on in the city. But of course, his greatest pride was the fact that you liked the idea of the Prowler. That alone harbored him confidence he never knew he had.

Miles never initially thought of himself as a hero, no matter how much he’s worked to save the lower class of New York. Heroes existed in the confines of comic books and kids’ TV shows. He wasn’t super, and he wasn’t a hero either. The term was black and white. Narcissistic, as you would put it.

But he liked playing along to the idea of being a superhero to you.

He wanted you to gawk and admire his vigilante identity. He wanted you to look at the TV early in the morning with a mug of coffee in your hands, pointing at the screen with a squeal, ‘It’s the Prowler!’

Most of all, he wanted you to know about it eventually.

When he passes by the computers, Miles heads straight for the manila folders, unraveling his gauntlet just to grasp the files better.

[ 11 | 10 | 2020 ]

•[𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: #𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟸] 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟻𝟼

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

With the slightest jolt of his palm, the paper crumbles, and behind it sat another file. He peers through it diligently, only to find a name signed at the bottom.

And it crumples from the clamp of his fist.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

The surname, Primo-Chávez, was the household name of the family who owns the Primm Hotel, and a single mention of it alone only reignited the anger he was sparing for the upcoming plans. All of the rage he kept to himself was seeping out the cracks of his still-grieving heart, and the grief remained a permanent scar.

And with a whisper of the wind, the warehouse falls into darkness.

There was this chill crawling up his back, and it haunted him. And in the silence that surrounded him, he calls out for his uncle.

And it echoes, and echoes. No one replies. Only the silence answered to his desperate calls. At that point, all that he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating out of his chest— a sort of morbid reminder that he was still alive. It made him wonder if that was all his father heard when he was trapped beneath the fallen carcass all those years ago. Just like that carcass, in the midst of all that darkness, screams begin to bellow.

Oh. One of the scientists have woken up.

But all Miles could picture was all what could’ve happened that night, when everything fell apart. Did they scream like this? Call out for help like this? Did his father struggle to breathe like this?

A lone light shines above the metal rails— a watch window, large and square, gleaming in this daunt violent that flickered and flickered. There was a figure there, dark, willowy, and invasive in the way it stared.

Unmoving, watching. A gaze that lingered like the chill running down his back.

What did they do in here?

Like a croak, the question bubbles up his throat and releases.

“Who are you?”

Like a growl, the voice changer emits the query a too many tones lower. At that question, the being tilts its head.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Velvety, low, exhausted— and it oozed from the broadcaster mic like a tease. You stared at the Prowler, almost amused by his size. From above, he seemed much tinier, like less of a threat. You feel your breath cascade against the lenses of your gas mask, sweat sticking to the leather of your gloves. There, you see the digitalized magenta and the gleam of his steel claws, as though he meant to intimidate. You stood partially befuddled at the fact that the vigilante everyone revered and loathed was likely a teenager.

“… You don’t know what this place is, don’t you?”

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ.

The wall beside him crumbles into dust.

Miles shields himself from the impact, the cement’s fumes blinding his sights. Upon the activation of his night vision, he searches in behind the violet screen, finding only his uncle emerging from the smoke and debris, rushing with a USB in his hands. Behind him, a flock of guards came rushing in with their ray guns— flames of red bursting into a shower as the man signaled him to run.

Miles casts a quick glance at the window above.

No one’s there.

“ＥＶＡＣＵＡＴＥ ＡＬＬ ＥＭＰＬＯＹＥＥＳ

ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ. ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ.”

The digital voice commands along with a blaring alarm.

The warehouse that housed this elaborate labyrinth, it continued on and on like a maze. Bland green tiles and white walls, glass screens— like a pattern he immediately grew to dislike. It all went on and on like a fever dream, but Miles’ head was ringing with the sight of the man he saw up the window.

And he lays it all out in his mind, trying to piece it altogether.

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ．

The walls click and collapse, and the floors shake, but Miles doesn’t look back. The sound of the guards’ heavy stomps cease though, eventually replaced with a sort of screech that irked his ears.

It was unfamiliar to him. He’s faced over a hundred bad people, but only the sight of that being unsettled him more than the rest.

“Up ahead!”

He watches as his Uncle heads right out the window with a fall, the shards ricocheting behind him like specs of snow as he throws a carabiner right back at Miles to snatch. His fingers thinly reach for the cord when he’s suddenly assaulted to the ground with a powerful force.

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

“Agh!” He grumbles in pain, rolling down to the ground. But even then, it wasn’t the pain that made every hair on his limb stand, it was the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiles, and the sound of your metal blade scraping against the wall.

“Mornin’, Prowler.”

Exhaustion made the delivery deeper. He senses it in you, and you sense it him. Though he was unaware of what your head was actually filled of, I’ve got a lecture at nine, I still have to do my literature essay, and I want to sleep. Miles wasn’t all that interested at all in what your mind bore. To be fair, from where he was, Miles only saw this figure towering over him with a long knife poking out its sleeve. Some gas mask, and a black leather coat. Even then as you stood above him, he could only watch as you fixed your gloves, pulling farther beneath your sleeve.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

Fwip. With a crisp cut, the cord that connected him to his partner was severed. You throw it out the window along with the metal piece. “I’m not so usually cruel, but you’re trespassing my family’s property—“

“So this is your family’s property.” He stands back up, hands aching to fight. “Primo-Chávez. As I recognized.”

He claws at you, but instead, the metal meets the end of your unsheathed blade with a clink!

“You’re smart.” And when you pull away, he stumbles backward. “Let’s see if that’ll save you.”

Crack! The walls quivered as Miles narrowly avoided the blade aimed for his neck. He raises his gauntlets, lunging right at you with swift punches, to which you countered gracefully with quick blocks. Eventually, he manages to take hold of your shoulders, shoving you back with feet tangled like knots. You lower down and hook your heel over his ankle, pulling with force as he falters.

You crack your neck, pressing your heel over his shoulder to keep him down. “I’ll be honest with you, I think you’re awfully underwhelming.” You lean down to his level, musing yourself in the way he heaved.

“But I can forgive all that.” Your fingers fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “You’re useful in a way—“

With a gauntlet over your neck, he slams you against the wall.

“I ain’t working for nobody,” He churned. “And I definitely won’t be fucking working for people like you.”

“I never said you had to work for me.” You calmly replied despite his grip. “You just have to make better decisions from now on.”

“Fuck you mean by that?”

From the ache your neck bore, you knew it was gonna leave a bruise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

He furrows his brows at that statement, holding himself back as he taunts. “… I wonder how your father is going to abandon you once I set this little investment of his on fire.”

Rather than the silence or panic he hoped, Miles heard you laugh.

“Do it.” You playfully suggest. “Do it, and kill all the other interns, employees, and guards in here.” Despite your façade, he could still sense the smirk creeping up your lips. “Then think to yourself, ask yourself; are you any better than my family?”

That alone catches him by surprise.

“… You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you m—“ Before he could even finish off his sentence, a powerful strike ricochets into his stomach, sending him off to the other wall. A loud grunt emanates from his lips, hands gripping the lower of his belly as you set your foot down. “The next time we meet, do promise me that you’ll be much more of a promising opponent. Today was.. Eventless.” Your gaze sets sights on the camera hidden in the corner.

“For now, I’ll have to let someone else do the job.”

As though on cue, you see his partner rush in with the broken cord in his hand. The same broken cord you’d thrown out. Without another word, he lunges at you with lightning speed, and the way you collide with the glass wall sends ripples across the corridor.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Long time no see.”

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

And from then on, Miles watches as this figure and his uncle battled amidst the labyrinth. But your words struck him hard, ‘Long time no see’— what did that mean? Did his uncle have a sort of connection to the elites, or has he worked for the upper class before?

With how his punches flew, Miles sensed this sort of undying rage that crackled with the quiver of his Uncle’s fist.

Why did this battle seem so natural? Like the two of them know each other’s moves too well.

“I see you’ve resigned.” You curtly brought up, grunting as he mercilessly charges at you. “And seems like you’ve brought a little something with you.” Upon the mention of Miles, Aaron struck back with a blow, feigning ignorance at your words. Despite your state, you managed to put up a great fight. “Why did you bring him here? He doesn’t seem fit for the job—“

“Stop the small talk, Antonne.”

Antonne.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

“I’m simply being polite,” You grinned. “It’s been a while, don’t you think so too?”

With that alone, Miles somehow confirmed that the figure was the heir of the hotel in the flesh. The man responsible for the deaths of many— the man responsible for the death of his father. But something felt wrong, like a sense that was gnawing at his guts.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Just of now, Miles realizes that he had no place here, at least, not yet. But he was just as confused as the other guy, why did his uncle bring him here if it was too dangerous?

“Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?”

Sister?

“She’s a little more pacifist than all of us.”

You lie so naturally, it was like second-nature to you— as though it was your second, utterly ridiculous hobby next to scheming. To play the part of Antonne was excruciating enough, but it was enjoyable in a way. You haven’t seen the Prowler for about four years— last seeing him when you were twelve, when he worked for the Fisks until his abrupt resignation. Next thing you and the elite knew, the mercenary who once worked for the high-class was now a vigilante working against them.

No one particularly knew the reason why. You somewhat guessed what it was.

And when the both of you crashed past the danger zone, you knew that the situation was way beyond your grasps from this point on, and the best you could hope for was a perfect gamble.

The man grabs all that he could in his anger, from glass beakers to steel rods, he figures splashing you with whatever thing he could find can help in making you perish from his sights.

You fight back, without the usage of anything else except the blade, only until Aaron repeatedly smashes your head inside a closed-off frozen cage. The two of you fall right in, breaking some sort of container in the process.

“What the fuck?”

Like a flame, it sears your skin— causing you to panic and recklessly pat away at the tar-like substance enveloping you in its sticky embrace. Without even a shriek, it consumes your system entirely, sending you down on your knees.

And the next thing you know, everything else fades into black.

Aaron pulls away, in shock of the dark matter unveiling before him. Immediately, he places a hand over Miles’ eyes, ushering him away.

From afar, they could hear the police sirens coming.

“Let’s— let’s go.” Aaron hurriedly commands.

“Uncle Aaron.”

Miles exhaustively calls out to him.

“Uncle Aaron!”

As his mask unfolds, Miles squints as the sunlight seeping from the tall trees welcomes him, shielding his face with his hands while trudging across the stones to meet his Uncle’s steps. Aaron pauses for a moment, taking only one look back.

“Why’d you bring me there?” Miles directly starts. “I wasn’t strong enough to be there— who was that guy? How- How did you suddenly know about the location of the warehouse, how did— I don’t— I-I have school in three hours, I don’t get why you had to bring me along—“

“That girl you’re seeing,” Aaron intervenes without a waste of breath. “What’s her last name?”

Miles takes a step back, furrowing his brows.

“[L/n].”

Aaron nods. “… It’s the same as the file.”

“What?”

“Bring her to dinner.”

Now everything further confused him, what did you have to do with all of this?

“I-I can’t bring her to dinner yet— what do you mean part of the f— we haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

The date set for tomorrow. The trick-or-treating date Miles had always longed for. Aaron tosses his hand upward. “Just make it quick and let me meet her.” He commands in a rush, pacing his steps faster. “We’ve got to get moving before they find us.”

“But— I don’t get it. What does [Y/n] have to do with all of this?"

Aaron stops for a moment, looking up before heaving a long, jagged sigh.

“… I got a file last night. Sent by an anonymous number. Someone managed to take a picture of you and your girl earlier when you were walking her home.”

Hearing this, a bundle of worries begin to churn in Miles’ mind. This whole night enough was messy for him, and he couldn’t understand why things were getting so complicated. Like what Antonne said earlier, it was ingrained into his mind, Aren’t you supposed to be smart?

“Along with the pictures, I got sent a file. [Y/n] [L/n], is..” Aaron consequently looks into his nephew’s eyes, a sort of hesitation imbued in his system. “Somewhat connected to the Primos.”

Miles halts entirely, and over and over, like how he’s always asked for the last hour. “What?”

“I.. I’ll just tell you when we get home.”

It was many years ago, when your mother endowed this habit of sitting you down by her vanity just to comb your hair and fix you up like a doll.

At that time, you were a tiny little girl with tiny little legs that were unable to reach the floor, instead opting to dangle them with light kicks from your seat— thinking you were some kind of mermaid. During those times, you could only spot at least the whole of your head staring right back at you, but rather than yourself, you marveled at the sight of your mother and her clothes.

The colors she wore were patterned in dates. Mauve, pink, white, and sometimes vermilion in special occasions. Those were the days she used to pick out your clothes for you, and whenever you complained about the color being too bright or dull, your mother would claim that she'd know your colors the best.

As you got older, and when you started dressing for yourself, in the colors you liked, and in the sort of mauve and pink that suited you, you watched as your mother would stare at you from afar with an irate frown, and silently, you'd think to yourself.

Even in the way I rebel against you, you still see yourself in me, because when you look at me, you see only a mirror of your younger self grimacing in disgust. You'd come so far to convince yourself that you're at the height of your being, but your daughter and your child-self only sees mediocrity.

…

“Miss?”

A flurry of people. Lots of talking. You despised that.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“[Y/n], wake up this instant!”

And at your father’s instruction, your eyes peel open almost immediately. You’re greeted with the sight of the ceiling, and your skin covered in warmth. You look at yourself, finding bruises all over your arms, still wearing your white dress shirt and formal pants. Silently, you force yourself to sit up despite the ache you felt, wincing as you spot several faces surrounding you. There was your father, pacing back and forth, certainly distressed about something; Antonne, with his arms crossed, sitting by the edge of your bed; some physician, silently standing by the side with her hands clasped together; and Harry Osborn standing alongside her.

“What’s going on in here?” You haphazardly asked.

“You almost died.” Antonne stirs the silence. “The Warehouse was set on fire, and you were still inside.”

“The warehouse was set on fire!?” You jolt up, only now realizing the dirty looks from your father. “That’s impossible, how could—“

“There were traces of gasoline.” Emerging from the doors, your father approaches you with a sort of chagrin in his glare. “Since you failed to capture or at least slow down the perpetrators, that happened.”

“… You’re placing the blame on me?” You ask, hardly believing your ears.

“We’re not—“ Just as Harry’s about to speak, your father intervenes. “Yes, we are. Because of your incompetence, we lost millions worth of money in damages!”

“Sir, calm down.”

“Father, this is what I’ve been telling you about.” Antonne pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s sixteen! How could she have possibly fought against a mercenary!?”

“I did better than you.” Poison spewed from your lips, losing all sort of rationality. “This has never happened before. Whenever there was something any of you asked me to do, I did my very best. How could I possibly perform my best when I lacked sleep and I was dependent on coffee!?”

“Your brother is right.”

Hearing that alone was a nightmare.

“Although you’re talented in upkeep and information, you’re too young to fight against an ex-assassin.”

You helplessly scramble off the bed. “Daddy, you’re being unfair.”

Daddy. It’s like you were a ten-year-old fighting for his attention once again. You looked at Antonne, and then your father, shifting in complacency. “I worked for three years, ceaselessly. Even if it meant giving up my weekends and studying so hard that it made my nose bleed. I got the job done, even if no one paid me or thanked me, I still did everything.”

“We’ve lost a lot of resources,” Harry begins. “And we’ve been brought back to square one because of the fire.”

Before Harry could even finish off his explanation, you lift a finger and point at him accusingly. “This is because one of your people decided to leak information—“ In between your rant, Antonne attempts to soothe you. “Had it not been for the fact that you decided to let untrusted people into the faction, we wouldn— stop it, Antonne— we wouldn’t be dealing with this sort of thing. Mother warned you about it, and you brushed off her every warning— STOP IT, ANTONNE!” You finally yelled out. Your brother ceases, lifting his hands off of you after he sees that you’re shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I being more emotional than usual?

The way the rage consumed you left you in dismay. At a short moment of epiphany, you run your hands across your face and, like a switch, all of your emotions reboot.

“I apologize. I spoke out of line.”

That line alone was chilling.

“I’m sorry, [Y/n].” The tender way Harry called out your name was unfathomable. “I know it’s upsetting that your job is being taken away from you, and you have every right to get upset. However, for your sake and your health, you can pass on these responsibilities to Montrell for now.”

“Montrell’s in London.” You add. “He can’t possibly take over—“

“He’s not in London.” Antonne confesses. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

“… It was going to be a surprise but..”

Oh no.

“Oh,” You blankly state, your mind rioting. “I see.”

“It’s an unplanned decision, really,” Your father explains. “Montrell also has no idea that you’ve taken Antonne’s place in taking care of the hotel for the last three years. It’d be better for you, as well, to take a break.”

You wanted to scream, break down, curse at everyone.

“I’m sorry for being too harsh on you, [Y/n].” Harry eases, placing a hand over your shoulder. “However, you have to understand that it’s also for the best.”

“I understand.” Fuck you, and fuck all of you.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now.” Yeah, leave me the fuck alone before I melt the fuck down.

As they step out, all the tension in the room leave along with the squeak of their fine, leather dress shoes. You’re left with the silent physician, whose presence you’d completely forgotten despite the wildness of her dark curls. She shifts uncomfortably, parting her lips to speak, only to find that she didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You ask, lowering your voice so as to not intimidate. Prompting to break the silence in her place.

The woman blinks at you, somewhat relieved by your words.

“Can I be direct, Miss?” She sternly asks.

“It’ll be better off that way, frankly.”

She leans a little closer, tugging on the sleeve of your arm. “When you first got here, your body was riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones around— oh, can I touch you?”

You squirm. “I’m not a relic.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Most of the rich people I’ve worked with were usually snobby douches who think their skin shed gold.” She subtly laughs, raising the fabric up higher. “Initially, I believed you were exactly that kind of rich kid, but after seeing what happened, you don’t seem like anything they say.”

You raise a brow. “.. Have we met each other before?”

She looked at you as though you’d just insulted her, her eyes about to pop off her thick-rimmed glasses.

“.. I work at Alchemax. I’m the head of the research team in the particle accelerator project— we’ve spoken many, many times before.”

“.. You’re not my physician?”

Her lips tighten into a line. “I take what I said back. You’re exactly like all those other rich kids.”

“W-well, I’m sorry.” You grumbled. “I work with a hundred different people almost every single day, my mind usually shuts down when I’m at work.”

“Well, your father did just drag me out of the line and forced me to fix you up since they didn’t want to risk calling for a doctor who doesn’t know that you’re parading as your brother.” She spoke so quickly, it made you rethink what she just said three times. “Anyways— I needed to tell you that under my observations, you’ve healed yourself in a supernaturally fast rate that it’s groundbreaking.”

“What?”

“Six hours ago, you had broken bones in here,” She points her fingers at your shoulder. “Here,” Followed by your thigh. “And here.” Then your calf. “But after seeing your little drama session with your father, you were able to move yourself without any sort of pain. Initially, I concluded that you must’ve had some very high pain tolerance, but I noticed that so many of your cuts and bruises have all been healed, and that,” Her fingers trace a line over your neck. “That was red as hell just moments ago. Now, it’s gone.”

Oh, the mark you got from Prowler Jr after he choked the hell out of you.

You liked calling him that. Prowler Jr— a smaller, rustier protégée of the Prowler you grew up with.

“.. I wonder why so.”

There was a wily grin on her face that unsettled you tremendously.

“Well, without your father looking, I ran a test on you.”

“You what?”

Without even a single second to lose, the woman takes out few samples from her bag, laying them all out before you with a couple of handwritten documents.

“Here.” She states so proudly.

You marveled at all that she’s written— unfortunately for you, her handwriting was so messily done that you couldn’t understand a single damn thing.

“… You could get sued for this, you know that?”

“Your father wouldn’t. Unlike his children, he can’t find a replacement for me.”

Your mouth hung in disbelief at what you just heard. Rather than acknowledging the insult, however, she plucks out a print of what you assumed were tiny splotches of black tar on a petri dish.

“What the hell is that?”

“I got that swabbed out of your mouth.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I’d dieted enough for the performance!”

“It’s not sweets, sweetheart.” She answered defeatedly, clearly full of your unsure-weaponized-incompetence. “It’s a mysterious symbiote that we’ve recently caught hold of four months ago, and during your fight with the Prowler, it forged itself into your system.” Her fingers trace down your arm, grasping the center of your wrist while grinning. “And it can make you do this.”

As she squeezes your hand, a black matter ejects from your palm. You jolt away, slapping her hand off as you curse.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?”

“The symbiote.” She casually replies. “Isn’t it amazing?”

It retreats like a slimey being, pushing itself back into your skin as though it’d all been a mere hallucination.

“You mean to tell me there’s some alien slime living inside my body!?”

“Well, yes—“

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

She winces at the loudness of your voice, moving back an inch away. “That’ll take a while for me to dissect. You have to come to my lab tomorrow if you want me to find a way to pull that away from you.”

“I can’t go tomorrow.” You had a date with Miles, and that alone was reasonable enough to miss anything and everything else. “I-I have practice for the fundraiser on Sunday, and I’m still the hostess, so I have to make sure that the preparations are seamless.”

“… I have a comment, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it since you probably hear it all the time.”

“What? That I’m just like my mother?”

She scrunches her nose. “I was going to say that you’re too young to be acting so old.” The woman turns away, beginning to pack up her things again. “You’re sixteen. You should be going out to parties, creating fake IDs, sneaking out to make out with your boyfriend— whatever other shit girls your age like to do.”

You try your hardest not to react at the last mention, since that was definitely what you just did a few hours before. You begin to rub your hands, the friction warming you up as your shoulders shrug.

“Well, as much as I want to do all that, I’ve got too much to do.”

“You won’t be sixteen forever, Miss.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder. “Take that from me. I’m forty-six, and I’ve went through a lot. I’d give everything to be your age again.”

As you watch her head for the door, you call out to her one last time.

“.. Call me [Y/n]. I don’t like it when people way older than me call me ‘miss’.”

She raised her brows. “Alright then, [Y/n].” Your name rolls off her tongue gently.

“How about you? What do I call you?”

With a hand over the knob, the woman beamed.

“.. I’m Olivia Octavius, but you can call me Liv.”

[hughungrybear]

Once again, I find myself wanting to slap a man for being so goddamned obtuse 😑

Yes, you moron. That's a much better approach than just moping around and waiting for somebody you love to drop dead. I swear, if this guy does not show any sign of intelligence in the next scenes, I would prolly riot 🤬🤬🤬

That's why you need to fucking brainstorm and think of the possibilities WHY. Collecting data is the cornerstone of a good scientific experiment. Jfc this man 😑

Day had it right:

You know, atp, Ozone is showing much better aptitude in scientific learning than Night will ever be.

There are far too many deaths to treat it as "bad luck". Also, the deaths has a pattern. If they can collaborate and compare notes, I'm sure they'll find out things that they haven't observed before.

[weemsfreak]

We Fell In Love In October

This is late late, I have been working on it for so long but I have been busy. It is a fall/halloween story, sooo Happy Halloween!!

Larissa Weems x f!TeacherReader

Warnings: Mention of blood, fake weapon

Autumn held a special place in your heart. This time of year wasn't too chilly or overly warm, and you lived for fall fashion. Halloween, in your opinion, was the supreme holiday, and you'd fight anyone who said otherwise. You weren't particularly keen on horror or gruesome themes, as you were a bit of a pussy, but the mystery and dark undertones were totally your thing.

Donning your trusty combat boots and a burgundy sweater dress, you set out for the quad. The leaves descended gracefully from the trees, adorning both the ground and the sky with their vibrant hues of red, orange, and yellow. Lately, your thoughts have been preoccupied with Halloween costume ideas, an opportunity to indulge in your need to dress up, to temporarily adapt a different persona. You thought it was always interesting to not be yourself, or be a different version of yourself, even if it was just for a day. As you made your way down the path to the decorated school, you allowed the soothing sound of gravel and rustling leaves underfoot to envelop your senses. This morning  the students were having in a pumpkin carving contest, and you had a brilliant idea in mind for your class's entry.

"Chemistry!" you exclaimed, presenting your pumpkin idea to your class. Your students returned raised eyebrows and cheers, but it was fitting, you thought, considering you were the chemistry and potions teacher.

As the time for judging arrived, each class eagerly presented their carved pumpkins to the panel of judges, which comprised the school's secretary, the student council president, and Principal Weems. Your students had crafted their pumpkin to resemble a gory scene, complete with brain-like patterns painted on its top. It was an impressive sight, but there was a secret added touch.

When it was your class's turn to showcase their pumpkin, Wednesday and Enid took the lead. Wednesday had attached a small container filled with yeast and water, the vital catalyst, to the top interior of the pumpkin. All eyes in the quad were fixated on her as she raised a carving knife and plunged it downward, piercing the pumpkin's 'brain'. In one swift motion, the knife was withdrawn, taking with it the pumpkin's  brain matter. Thick, crimson fluid followed, erupting from the pumpkin's top like a gory volcanic display. The audience's reactions ranged from collective "ew" and "gross" exclamations to screams, but you took note that Principal Weems, in stark contrast to some others, appeared unfazed. Your heart raced with excitement when you noticed a hint of a smirk on Wednesday's face. The audacious display, which was not well-received by others, brought her a sliver of joy, which in turn made your day successful.

Enid then cleared her throat and proceeded to explain the concept behind the pumpkin's gruesome spectacle.

"We employed a simple experiment of 30% hydrogen peroxide, dish soap, and red food coloring. When Wednesday stabbed Mr. Gourd of Gore here, she introduced yeast into the mixture as a catalyst, which triggered the rapid and bloody reaction." Enid then went on about the scientific principles at play, and you reveled in the amused expressions of your students. While you loved artistic and engaging activities with your students, you believed that there were valuable lessons to be learned in every aspect of life.

The principal approached the lectern with her signature smile, and you felt butterflies invade your stomach as she spoke.

"This event has been an absolute delight, brimming with fantastic ideas! I want to thank everyone who took part." You watched in awe as her gaze wandered through the audience, ultimately landing on you. She sent a sly grin your way as she subtly fluttered her lashes, before lowering her head to open the piece of paper she was holding.

"The victor of this competition is none other than 'The Gourd of Gore!'" Your students erupted in  cheers and applause, and Enid enthusiastically drug Wednesday up to the lectern to receive their prize.

🎃

By day's end, you found yourself utterly drained. Your students had been unusually rowdy, likely due to the multiple anticipated fall-themed activities the principal had organized. The events that she was so enthused about included the harvest festival, a trip to a corn maze and pumpkin picking, and costume day. It hadn't escaped you, however, that Principal Weems had become noticeably less enthusiastic about these activities since the harvest festival.

As you descended the stairs toward the main entrance, your hand reached for the door handle. Just then, a familiar voice cut through the air, though it was far from pleasant. This was not the velvety tone or accent that pleased your ears, no. Instead, it was a voice of judgment, a gravely voice. You heard the words, a sentence that made your teeth clench in anger as you quickly travelled towards it.

"Boys, look at this lesbian."

Wide eyed you turned the corner and immediately spotted the source, Kyle, laughing with his friends. You glanced around to see who the target of his ridicule was, and your eyebrows knit in disbelief when you found her. She was stopped in her tracks, blinking, silent, inhibited. You, too, froze, trying to comprehend the situation until your anger took over.

"Slenderman, she's woman Slenderman!" Kyle hollered, pointing at her as he hunched over in hysterics. Principal Weems still stood, her mouth agape and her eyes wide, rendered silent. You watched the gears turning in her mind, knowing she should address the situation, but reluctant to respond to such insult, such an audacious comment from a man, a boy.

"Kyle!" you seethed, striding purposefully toward him, your fists clenched. Kyle turned to face you, his eyes widening. "You will never judge someone for things beyond their control, you will never judge a woman, full stop," you said, your anger evident.

"You will never understand what it's like to walk in someone else's shoes. Apologize to Principal Weems this instant."

Ironically, it seemed that Kyle was more frightened of you than he was of Principal Weems, as he would never dare say such derogatory remarks to you, or so you thought.

Kyle's smug expression transformed into a sly smile as he turned toward the principal. She had ventured closer now, and she met his gaze with her lips pursed.

"I want to hear it from her," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. He then pointed directly at you, "Or does a teacher need to stand up for the principal, huh? You're even more bitchy than her" he chuckled, smiling at you menacingly.

"Detention tomorrow at 4, Mr. Dunn." The principal spoke with force, her tone abrupt enough to make you flinch. She straightened to her full height as she stared down at Kyle with the heat of the sun. Leaning closer to him, she lightly pressed her finger to his chest. She spoke quietly, yet you could hear how the words hissed through her teeth.

"If you fail to attend, this 'lesbian Slenderman' will see to it that you are expelled."

🎃

You were not particularly hard on your students, but you weren't easy on them either. You had standards, you hated laziness, and you had no patience for any foolish behavior. Of course you were human too, you understood where the line was between slacking and being inhibited, between acting out and having fun. Larissa admired your character, you knew what you wanted and you weren't scared to voice it. Occasionally, she heard students whisper about how you were 'worse' than her, but she honestly got a kick out of it.

Lunch today was provided by the Weathervane, courtesy of Marilyn, who settled down with you at your desk.

"Okay,  I got three different sandwich's, so you can pick. I also got a hot chocolate, a matcha latte, and a chai tea!"

Marilyn went on to talk about the planned events, pulling both chuckles and eye rolls from you. She was delightful to talk to, but there was a point, the red head just had so much energy. The principal walked through your door suddenly and slowly made her way to your desk. Your head snapped to her as soon as you heard her enter and you offered her the biggest smile, joy filling your body and pouring out of the seams. Marilyn turned around to find the principal when she noticed your change in demeanour.

"Oh! Hi Principal Weems" she chirped.

"Marilyn, Y/N" the principal greeted smoothly. Marilyn faced you once again, her observation catching you off guard. "You know y/n, you're a lot like Wednesday" she commented.

Your smile faded as you looked at her, "What?"

 It wasn't exactly an insult, per se, but you had no clue where she was going with this.

"Well, you're usually pretty neutral, and you don't smile much or seem to express much enjoyment." You cut Marilyn off with a glare, unsure of what she was implying. "But, whenever you see something or someone that you really like, you light up!" Marilyn finished with a smile.

You blinked in surprise, not realizing you had such a noticeable reaction. You glanced at the principal, who was giving you a knowing smirk. Oh this was embarrassing, you didn't mean to do that, you didn't mean to be so obvious. Sure, when you looked at Larissa you got butterflies, you felt warm and fuzzy, and your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile so big that your eyes almost shut, but did you not smile otherwise? Were you really that unapproachable?

When you said nothing, the principal spoke up.

"I wanted to compliment you on your pumpkin idea from the other day, y/n."

Marilyn had finished eating and decided to excuse herself as she bid you both goodbye. Once she left, the tall woman took her seat. She agreed with Marilyn, you were a bit like Wednesday. She had taken notice of a change in your demeanour, from watching your reserved nature when around your students or others, to when you were around her. She found it incredibly endearing and cute, how she seemed to make you happy with her presence alone.

The principal batted her lashes at you, "I thought your classes pumpkin was quite intelligent. It was well executed, if you know what I mean."

 You giggled, "Thank you Larissa, I knew the students would like it."

Larissa smirked as she looked you up and down, her voice dropping an octave, "I was quite impressed."

A blush so deep formed on your cheeks that Larissa had to hold back a laugh. Attempting to avert her gaze, you noticed that Marilyn had left the third drink on your desk. You pushed it towards the woman, "Hot chocolate?"

Larissa accepted gladly, wondering if you knew of her love for hot chocolate. "Would you like to join me for a drink tonight? My office, 7pm?" Larissa watched you with hopeful eyes as she forced the question out of her mouth.

You were surprised, allowing your face to contort into one of confusion before you realized that you had.

"Oh, of- of course!" you stammered.

🎃

Nervously, you entered the Principal's office and sat down at her instruction. She smiled down at you as she neared the couch and offered you a glass of red. You two chatted about autumn and the Nevermore family for a while, but you couldn't help but notice Larissa shivering slightly. You realized that she had a blanket on her lap, and there was no fire lit as usual.

"Larissa are you cold? Why don't I light a fire for you?"

Larissa sighed and glanced at the fireplace, gesturing with her hand in dismissal. "I just haven't had the chance to get more wood. I'll be fine."

You smirked at her, "Nonsense, I got you." Standing up, you walked over to the fireplace and knelt down in front of it. Placing your hand on the cold stone floor, a warm fire appeared right before you. You returned to the couch, and Larissa blinked at you in amazement, a smile gracing her lips. You chuckled at the woman as you sent her a wink, "I'm magic."

"Thank you for standing up for me the other day."

Larissa spoke quietly as she looked into the crackling fire, breaking the silence. "I wasn't myself, I was caught up in my head, and when Kyle insulted me I- I just didn't know what to say because, well, he's right."

You set your eyes on golden hair and pale skin illuminated with an orange glow. You furrowed your brows at her, he was right?

"What? Kyle? He's not right. He's rude, judgemental, he doesn't care about anyone."

Larissa nodded her head in agreement as she hummed, "Yes, he definitely needs something, discipline of some sort." She looked over to you, her gaze boring into your own, and you suddenly understood what she meant. You took her hand in yours and leaned closer to the woman, "What was he right about, Larissa?"

The principal didn't pull way, but you cold tell by her body language that she was bracing herself for rejection.

"I am a lesbian, and I am as tall as slenderman" she chuckled, swallowing the lump in her throat. You let out a scoff that was followed by a laugh, and you gripped her hand tighter in reassurance. You smiled at her, "Well, if that's the case, you're the most beautiful lesbian slenderman that I've ever seen."

🎃

You were overly excited to visit the corn maze and pumpkin patch. You loved picking out pumpkins and gourds, white ones, black ones, painting them and decorating with them. You took in the crisp autumn day as the chatter of the students was heard in the background, it brought you peace.

As you helped organize the students at the start of the corn maze and settled yourself at the back of the group, Larissa made her way to your side. The woman in charge of the corn maze then asked for the students' attention. "Alright then, the pumpkin patch will be found at the end of the corn maze, enjoy!"

Just as the students began their journey through the maze, she added a "Oh I forgot to mention, there's a bit of mud in the maze, so hopefully you're all wearing boots!"

You immediately turned your attention to Larissa. You were dressed in cozy fall attire and your boots, but you knew that she was, in fact, not. Larissa, in her infinite wisdom, had chosen fashion over function by wearing high heels. A light blush graced her cheeks as she realized why you were looking at her. "Maybe I'll stay behind," she casually suggested. You knew how much Larissa had been looking forward to this event, listening to her talk about wanting to pick pumpkins from the patch. You were about to agree with her, offering to select pumpkins on her behalf, but a better idea popped into your mind.

"Well, let's see how muddy it is. Maybe you can get around it!" you said with a playful grin.

After a few turns of the maze, you realized that Larissa wouldn't simply be able to 'get around it.' "Shit," you muttered as you gazed at the muddy path ahead. Larissa sighed, "Well, I tried." Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at the woman, and you couldn't resist the chance to be her knight in shining armor, or whatever version of that you were.

"Principal Weems," you declared, playfully bowing to her, "It's clear you missed the memo about fall footwear, but fear not, for I shall carry you over the mud."

Larissa raised an eyebrow, her expression one of surprise and delight. "What?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I will carry you, if you wish," you replied, offering her your hand. Reluctantly, she looked between you, her heels, and the mud, before finally placing her hand in yours. You carefully lifted her into your arms bridal style, reveling in the delighted giggle she let out as you scooped her legs off the ground.

With each step through the mud, you tried to watch your footing, but your focus remained on her. She was so close to you, clinging to you tightly as you did her. A huge smile lit up her face as she took in the scenery, and your heart swelled at the thought of her enjoying herself with you.

As you carried Larissa through the maze, she pointed out various things to make the experience fun. The maze was not particularly long, so you arrived at the pumpkin patch before you knew it. As you gently set Larissa back on her feet, you realized that you hadn't noticed when the mud ended, and you had carried her the entire way. Maybe she hadn't seen the end of the mud either, or maybe she simply didn't want to mention it.

The pumpkin patch spread out before your eyes, an array of different shapes, sizes, and shades of orange, white, and dark green. You picked your way through the field, choosing a white pumpkin and two different-sized orange ones. You watched the principal as she carefully padded up the rows of pumpkins. You wanted to laugh, her hands clasped in front of her, posture straight as a board. She was observing the scenery before her, and so were you. Your attention was diverted to the students, who ran around in a competitive game to find the perfect pumpkin. You watched them for a while, reminiscing about the carefree days of your youth when you, too, could play and have fun.

Your gaze returned to Larissa, who was a few rows away from you, getting help with cutting a large white pumpkin from its vine. Despite getting lost in the fall endeavour, you remembered that you were, in fact, a teacher.

"Be careful please, I don't want anyone tripping over vines and getting hurt!"At the sound of your voice, the principal looked up at the students. They were still playing the game and having fun, but they were noticeably being careful. She then shifted her gaze in your direction and silently mouthed a thank-you, winking at you.

Exiting the maze was more challenging than entering it. You opted for a different route, hoping for less mud, but you soon discovered that it was no better. You and Principal Weems had been keeping up with the students until you noticed that she was no longer by your side. You halted when you felt the absence of her presence and looked down at the ground. It seemed you were standing in a sea of mud, and it extended as far as you could see.

"Crap," you muttered under your breath. You turned and walked back to Larissa, who was chucking at you profusely.

"What's wrong? Am I heavier than you had anticipated?" Your cheeks reddened as you looked up at the woman, she was actually lighter than you had expected, or perhaps you were just stronger.

"Of course not. I would carry you any day, my lady."

Making your way through the maze with Larissa in your arms was tough. You both got caught in a dead end a couple of times, Larissa's laugh when you did enlightening your heart immensely. You placed her down when there was no mud, as she insisted, but when the mud returned, you scooped her back up. Eventually you caught sight of the end of the mud and realized that the maze would soon be ending. You held in a laugh as you purposely took a wrong turn and ended up at a dead end again.

"Oh frig me and my horrible sense of direction" you said, smirking at the woman in your arms. Larissa let out a loud laugh and made your breath hitch as she pressed her cheek to yours, hugging you close. She knew what you were doing, and she thought you were adorable.

"You're a joy to be around, darling."

🎃

After the schools rendezvous, you ventured to the Weathervane. Standing in line, you were trying, and failing, to decide on a drink. Your attention was rather focused on something else, like a tall blonde standing a few people ahead of you. So lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when a student made his way to your side.

"Principal Weems and the mayor huh? Bet they're banging."

Kyle said it so nonchalantly that it took your brain a minute to register, it was so unhinged and random. You turned to him wide eyed, ready to knock him out, but as you shifted your gaze, he was beelining to the exit of the Weathervane. You stood with your mouth open in shock, unable to formulate a response or punishment for that statement. Leaning to the side, you glanced ahead and realized that Larissa was indeed in line with the mayor.

Larissa and the mayor, Larissa and the mayor. They worked together, they had a cooperation, but it wasn't like that, was it?

The more you thought about it, the more you rejected that theory. But the more you thought about it, the more bothered you got. You couldn't shake the growing jealousy.

Visions of them together invaded your thoughts, an ethereal frame against, well, a man. Large hands on soft thighs, plump red lips on rough ones, delicate pale skin against hairy skin, the sounds she would create, sounds you wanted to hear, sounds of - "No!"

You shook your head frustratedly, forgetting yourself. This kid made you angry, Larissa made you irrational, the thought of her with someone else made you insane. Up ahead, you noticed Larissa had directed her attention toward you and offered a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she waved. It was as if she knew you were thinking about her, although you hoped she didn't. You were far too flustered to even smile back, and you didn't have a clue of what to do about Kyle. So, you made the quick decision to take your leave, before you did or said something stupid.

🎃

Since Halloween was on a Saturday, Friday was costume day. You had thought hard about what or who you wanted to dress up as, and you finally settled on an idea. A rather clever idea, as you thought she would get a kick out of it. You handed treats to your students and complimented them on their costumes. Some students didn't dress up, and some dressed up just to spite others.

"Are you supposed to be Principal Weems?" Wednesday asked, looming over your table in the quad. You swallowed your lunch, nodding at the girl. "Uh yes, kind of" you chuckled. Wednesday looked you up and down, nodding in approval. "I like it" she said before walking away.

At days end you made your way through the halls. You were disappointed about your lack of Halloween plans, especially since your favorite holiday was on a Saturday. You were also extremely disappointed that you hadn't seen Principal Weems today, perhaps she was busy.

Taking the longer way to your quarters, you stopped as you approached the hallway which held the principals office. Your feet had involuntarily brought you this way, and now that you were here, they would walk you right past her door. As you entered the hallway, Kyle popped out of nowhere and scared the absolute crap out of you.

"Hi Ms" he said, standing directly in front of you as he gazed around frantically. Your face scrunched as you looked down at him in question, he was definitely up to something.

"Kyle, what are you doing?" Kyle turned to look at the large doors behind him before he turned his attention to you.

"I'm just uh, supervising the hallway. It's nice outside, go enjoy the day" he said, desperately trying to usher you away. "What do you mean supervising? Why are-" You were cut off by a horrified scream, a scream that sounded like it came from her office. Your head swivelled to the doors before your gaze locked on Kyle.

"What did you do!?" you growled at him. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't do anything!"

You scoffed and made your way frantically to the doors, but you were stopped by Kyle grabbing your hand and putting himself in your path. "Don’t go in there! Principal Weems said that she doesn't want to be bothered."

You shook your hand lose from his grip and stared down at him menacingly.

"Get out of here now, or you will be in so much trouble so help me god" you spat. You stepped around him without question and entered the principal's office, almost slamming the door behind you. You scanned the office quickly and found nothing out of the ordinary, except for a box on the desk. Walking towards it, sounds of sniffles and whimpers became louder until you found the principal. You hurried around the desk and almost fell to your knees at the sight of the woman sitting on the floor in tears. She covered her face with one hand, and held a photo in the other. Before you could ask her what was wrong, your eyes landed on the photo. Dark ink printed a picture of you, lying on the floor covered in blood. Confused, you scrambled to your feet and peered into the box on her desk.

Inside was a pint of blood labelled with your name and a letter on top.

 Dear Principal Weems,

I believe I have taken the life of one of your staff. My deepest apologies, but my thirst does not discriminate.

Happy Halloween,

your favourite Vampire

"What the hell" you whispered, staring down at the note. Just then, it all fell into place. Kyle must have figured out that you had a thing for the principal, as he has seen you two together recently, and he has been super annoying about it. It was sly for him to use Larissa's care for you against her, and it was believable, after all he was a vampire. But why would he do this to her? It was an unnecessary, lousy prank.

You settled down on the floor next to the woman and took her hand in yours, throwing the photo to the side.

"Larissa" you whispered, stroking her arm. She let out a sob as she ignored you, it was like she didn't realize anyone had entered her office.

"Larissa I'm not dead" you said a little louder. You reached up to pull her other hand away from her face and she flinched at the contact. Her head spun to meet you in a panic, wide eyed she let out a gasp.

"D-darling! You’re here?!" she questioned, bringing her hand to cup your face to make sure that you were real. You placed your hand on top of hers as you giggled, "Yes Rissa, I'm not a ghost."

The principal closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as you watched her. She was extremely frazzled, not that one wouldn't be if they had found out one of your staff members (and hopefully friend) was murdered.

"Come, lets move to the couch" you offered as you stood and helped her do the same.

You sat close to the woman and looked down at the photo. "Someone's good at photoshop" you murmured.

Larissa reached out and slowly took it from you. You watched as she stared down at the photo, small tears escaping her as she tried to compose herself.

"So it's, it's just a prank?" she asked through sniffles.

You scooted closer to her and rubbed at her back soothingly, "Yes Riss, it's just a stupid prank. That's not my blood in that jar, hopefully it's not anyone's." The principal eventually calmed thanks to your presence. You noticed her attempt to put on her personal or perhaps professional façade, but she gave up as her nerves were far too shot.

She whispered, "I thought I had lost another Nevermore family member. I've been so on edge lately, I thought it had to be true."

You stopped all movements and leaned closer to her, looking her in the eyes. She wouldn't look at you.

"What do you mean another Nevermore family member?"

Larissa's gaze slowly but surely met yours, and you watched as her lower lip quivered.

"I haven't been entirely truthful with you" she murmured.

As you stared into pools of blue, you could see that she was hurting, she was tired. So, you decided to let it go, for now. "It's alright Rissa. Let's just deal with Kyle, shall we?"

Larissa nodded her head before looking back down at the photo, not wanting to deal with it at all. The thought of you dead, not being here with her anymore, not taking care of the students any longer, not carrying her through corn mazes, and not looking at her with those adoring eyes, made her heart break. She could no longer wait.

"Would you like to come to my house tomorrow? Perhaps we can hand out candy and watch a movie?"

Larissa looked down at you with hope as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

A smile instantly lit up your face, maybe Halloween would be fun after all. You nodded enthusiastically, and you watched the woman's expression brighten.

Until her brows knit. She looked you up and down, taking note of your elegant updo, your red lip, your pearl earrings, your high collared knee length dress, and your heels. You looked like her, a rather dark mysterious version of her, like she was the white swan and you were the black.

"Are you dressed like me?" she asked with a bit of insecurity. Of course, you did look like her, but she never thought that you would purposely dress like her. She didn't think you'd adapt her style, didn't think that she was beautiful, not enough for someone to want to look like her on purpose.

You let out an embarrassed giggle and nodded in confirmation as you played with your hands. A huge grin grew on the older woman's face and she let out a loud laugh. You smiled at her mascara smudged skin as she leaned in and took your face in her hands. Her eyes scanned your face before she looked you in the eye, "You are absolutely precious."

🎃

Draping a long black hooded dress over your body, you applied some dark makeup. You adjusted your hood and added a tattoo to your forehead, finishing your look as one of the Dimitrescu daughters. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you noted that you were rather creepy looking, even sans blood. Your intention wasn't to scare the kids, you didn't want to scare them, or maybe you did. You shrugged as you grabbed your fake sickle, making sure your powers were in check before setting out for the night.

You made your way through the woods, a torch being the only source of light besides the moon. You finally stumbled onto the road and giddily set out for the principals house. You had wanted to be there before it fell dark, but you had a matter to attend to where the darkness was paramount. So, you skipped down the road with your sickle in hand, enjoying the rustling leaves in the breeze of the night.

When you arrived at the principals house, there was a small line of trick or treaters. You watched from afar as she handed out treat bags, big ones at that, and made conversation with all of the kids. She looked over the moon to be seeing them all, asking about their costumes and plans for the night. Her red lipped smile was the cutest thing you've seen in your entire life, and all you wanted in the world was to kiss it off of her. Your gaze moved around her house, and you wondered how you missed all of the decorations. The large windows at the front of her house were lit up by orange, purple, and green lights from the inside, contrasting brightly against the dark outside. There were a couple pumpkins on the step, and one of those huge skeletons in her yard, the 12 foot one that you've always wanted. You decided to pop in line behind the kids, and you squinted your eyes at the woman, as if that would help you see better. She definitely had a costume on, was she a devil? You squealed internally as you took in her red horns, choker, and black cape. This was the first time you've seen her in black, and damn did it look good on her.

You held your sickle over your shoulder as you waited for the kid in front of you to leave and for blue eyes to meet yours. When they did, her jaw dropped slightly and she paused, looking you up and down.

"Y/n?!" she squeaked, shaking her head at you.

You smiled, "Hi Rissa!"

The woman pulled you into a half hug before stepping to the side, "Why are you in line? Come in darling."

You stepped into her house and immediately went wide eyed at the sight of the elaborate design.

"I was waiting for candy" you chuckled.

You saw Larissa's side smirk as she continued to pass the treat bags out, and you barely caught a chocolate bar that she sent flying your way.

🎃

You were passing out treats when some students arrived at the doorstep.

"Oh! Hi girls, how's it going?" you greeted.

"Great!" Enid squealed, pulling at Wednesday's hand in excitement. As Larissa appeared behind you to greet the students, she placed her hands on your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine. "Ah, girls, do come in."

"So Principal Weems, you’re a devil?" Enid asked brightly.

"Sure am" Larissa replied, collecting some treats to give them.

Enid then looked at you, "And Ms., you're a…a"

"A Dimitrescu daughter, obviously" Yoko said.

You laughed and winked at Yoko, "Exactly."

Wednesday looked you up and down, her monotone never faltering, "Yesterday she was Weems, today she's a killer." Larissa returned to your side and handed them all treats. She then turned her attention to you, smirking down with dark eyes, "I appreciated her costume yesterday, it was very clever, and detailed" she breathed.

You flicked through the Halloween movies looking for something good to watch. Your favorites were along the lines of Beetlejuice, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Edward Scissorhands, but you've watched them SO many times already. Larissa placed a charcuterie board on the table and passed you a glass of wine, taking her cape off. As she sat next to you, you couldn't help but let your eyes trail down her figure. She was wearing black leather pants and a tight long sleeve shirt, you almost spit out your wine at the sight. Larissa never failed to notice your expressions or actions, no matter how subtle.

She scooted closer to you and batted her lashes, "I'm so glad you came over darling. I was worried I had made this food for nothing" she chuckled. Your lower lip quivered at the thought of someone standing her up. You were elated at the thought of her wanting to hangout with you, but putting this much effort in and being worried that you wouldn't show? She was too sweet for this world.

"I would never leave you hanging Rissa. I'm sorry I was late, I had to tend to…something first." Larissa tilted her head at you, wondering what on earth you were tending to.

She pursed her lips, "You know, we never did come up with a discipline for Kyle."

You snickered down at the floor, shaking your head amusedly. "I may have taken that into my own hands."

The woman's mouth opened in question before she closed it, grabbing her wine off of the table and settling beside you. She smiled and brought the glass to her lips, "Go on."

-A couple hours ago-

Just as it was getting dark out, you set out for the old Gates' mansion. You had left a note for Kyle and a few of his friends, anonymously, for them to meet up there. Of course you didn't know if they would actually show, but to your delight, they did. You hid behind a wall by the entrance of the house, watching as the group conversed. It was dark now, the only source of light being their flashlights.

"Why are we here dude?" one of his friends asked nervously.

"I don't know man! I got a note!" Kyle replied.

"Oh sorry, I didn't realize that you got a note!" his other friend said sarcastically.

It took everything in you to not laugh at their bickering, boys. Once you figured it was time, you made a loud noise to get their attention.

"What the hell was that?" Kyle questioned, fear evident in his voice.

Just then, you flicked your wrist, and in a second the house was illuminated by a ring of fire. You peeked out from behind the wall, seeing the boys staring at the flames in terror.

With a nod of your head, a message was burning on the front lawn.

'Kyle, we know what you did. We're coming for you'

The boys stepped away quickly when they felt the heat, and Kyle went wide eyed as he read the message.

"Shit boys! Let's get out of here!" he hollered.

You could hear the horror in his voice, but it only made you laugh menacingly. Once they had vanished, you cut the fire off, no trace of the event left.

"And then I came here" you smiled. Larissa's jaw was on the floor, staring at you in disbelief.

"Y/n I- I don't know what to say. Are you sure you weren't too hard on him?"

Despite Larissa's attempt to portray her usual headmistress demeanour, you could see her smirking.

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, "Rissa, there are a couple things he's done that you actually don't know about. So, no, I don’t think I was too hard on him."

You paused, "Plus, I wanted to get revenge, for us" you winked.

🎃

You agreed on a horror movie, to your dismay. You didn't want to look like a wimp in front of Larissa, so you clicked on the conjuring as you swallowed the lump in your throat. You turned your focus to other things while the movie played, things like the interior design of the house, your costume (which you thought was fire), and Larissa herself, who was lost in the movie. You watched as she sipped her wine, plump lips resting on the rim of the glass. 'What a good distraction, just drink' you thought.

When you got tired of that, you turned to the movie, hoping you could stick it out. But as a particularly horrifying string of music played, you squealed and buried your head into the woman's shoulder. Larissa let out a soft laugh as she brought her hand to stroke at your hair.

"What's the matter love? You don't like scary movies?" You shook your head no, holding onto her arm.

"Do you want me to turn it off?" she asked quietly, to which you sat up and quickly said "No!"

You stuck it out for awhile, watching the movie while partially distracting yourself with snacks and wine. Some of it was hilarious to be honest, but certain parts you just couldn't do. Larissa noticed as you sat wide eyed, your breathing staggered as you attempted to calm yourself. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to her, which immediately brought you some peace. You smiled as you continued to watch the movie, but when a jump scare happened, you grabbed the woman tightly and buried your face in her neck. Your eyelashes brushed against her skin as you blinked, it was dark and you felt safe. She was so soft, her skin smelled of lavender, and she was so, so comfortable. When you felt her settle into your touch and pull you tighter, you closed your eyes and let your breath become even once again.

You didn't know how long it had been before the movie ended and Larissa turned her face toward yours, her chin resting lightly against your forehead. You lifted your head from her neck and peered up at her, the light burning your eyes. She smiled caringly down at you, and you both sat in silence as you scanned the lines on her soft skin.

"Would you like to take a walk, darling?" she whispered.

You sat up eagerly before looking out into the night and sighing sarcastically, "Sounds like something you'd say If you wanted to murder me." You then picked up your fake sickle, "Good thing I have this!"

🎃

Larissa led you through her backyard and into the woods. She had assembled a breathtaking light up trail around the perimeter of her yard, white lights hanging from the trees and leaves scattered along the dirt path. You sauntered through the woods as you took in the beauty of the trees, reveling in the colors one last time before fall would fade and winter would come. Larissa basked in the peace and in your presence, and you could tell that she appreciated nights like these, she needed more nights like these. You entwined your fingers with hers and stroked your thumb over the back of her hand gently as you walked side by side. You then snickered as you pointed to her shoes, she wasn't wearing heels this time.

"Someone didn't want me to carry them tonight, I see" you spoke sarcastically. Larissa looked down at her boots and quickly removed them, leaning on you for support.

"Oh no, now how will I walk through this path!?" she said, bringing her hands to her face in faux panic. You rolled your eyes at her and scooped her up, loving the giggle she let out.

At the end of the path there was a bench, a small spot decorated with pumpkins and gourds. You sat down on the bench and placed Larissa in your lap, holding her close with your arms around her waist. You wrapped a blanket around her, scared that she might be cold.

"Thank you, love" she whispered, resting her head on your shoulder.

You both basked in the calmness of the night, finding comfort and warmth in each others embrace.

Larissa looked up at the bright full moon, "It's such a gorgeous night."

She then turned to you, her face only inches away from yours. You watched as she spoke, watched her lips move in a taunting manner, a seducing manner.

She was beauty, grace, she was gentle and kind. She was pure, unique, she was stunning. The sweetest woman you've ever met was sitting in your lap, her melodic voice sounding for only you to hear.

Yet, you were unsure of what she was saying as you scanned your eyes over her delicate face. You brought your hand up and traced your finger over her smile lines.

"Y/n? Are you listening?"

Your gaze shifted from her lips to her eyes, bright and wide and questioning.

"Can I kiss you?" you whispered, stroking your thumb over her bottom lip lightly.

Larissa's eyebrows softened, her surprise evident. She didn't speak, so you took that as a no and removed your hand from her face. As you backed away and went to apologise, the woman pulled you against her, slamming her lips gently against yours.

You hummed into the kiss as she caught you off guard, threading your fingers through her light hair. The taste of red lipstick and wine overtook your senses, feeling her exhale against your skin made you shiver.

She pulled away, stroking your cheek with her thumb and resting her forehead against yours.

"I noticed how much you like Halloween, love. Would you like to carve pumpkins together? Maybe roast some pumpkin seeds?"

You squealed in excitement as you nodded your head, grabbing her face and pressing your lips against hers with need. You gave her light but meaningful pecks on the lips before moving to her cheeks and forehead.

You then tucked your head into her neck, "I wish this night didn't have to end."

Larissa lifted your head gently and pressed her cheek against yours, both of you gazing up at the moon.

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, "When we're together, darling, every night is Halloween."

[ashensgrotto]

The Sea's Sacrifice (Part 2)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto / Jade Leech / Floyd Leech x Fem!Reader

Total Word Count: 14.7k+

Part 1 Part 2 (You Are Here) Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: A potential job as a marine biologist’s assistant leaves (Y/N) feeling something fishy going on behind the scene…

Author’s Notes: Original Idea came from @merakiui ’s annonymous ask with a short story / headcannon -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/684490143936167936/ooohhh-i-love-those-writing-ideas-you-had-for-sea?source=share

and I absolutely love this concept and wanted to take it a step further. I don’t write yandere nor fanfiction as much as I did a few years ago. However, I do hope I do this piece justice; I will have links to the next part once it is completed and ready for viewing.

Also, this is a work of fiction. I disagree with anyone that justifies the following behaviors which are represented in this fic (if I think of more, I will add them as I go):

rape/non-consent/dub-consent, possessive/controlling/dominating behaviors, and manipulation

Come my love be one with the sea

Rule with me for eternity

Drown all dreams so mercilessly

And leave their souls to me

***

You don’t see the twins for the remainder of the day.

When you make mention of the encounter in passing to Crewel that evening, the man only smiles - and not in a warm way whatsoever.

“It would seem that our puppy here has peaked their interest,” the eccentric man grinned, an unsettling look on his face as he bares his teeth, “It’s interesting how Floyd has taken the first step, though - I thought for certain Jade would’ve been the one to approach you first.”

“Floyd? Jade?” you arch a brow at the black and white cloaked professor, “Those things have names?”

“They are not things, pup,” Crewel taps his cigarette case against the palm of his hand before pulling one out and lighting it up, “To answer your question, yes, the mers do have names. While you were waiting for them to make their first appearance with you, Trein and I have been working on cracking their communication code. All three speak in chirps, clicks, and coos - though their growls are both intriguing and nerve-wrecking. We believe, based on how quickly they chirp or click, they are either warning each other of danger, food, or saying each other’s names.”

“And how did you figure out their names?”

“It’s a mere guess - but the sound waves we see on our monitors follow a similar pattern as the sound waves in the air following the pronunciation of the names ‘ Jade ’ and ‘Floyd. ’ We’ve also hidden cameras in the enclosure and have heard them speak in our language during playback sessions after certain incidents - such as the attacks on our coworkers.” 

“And part of my job is to see how much of our language they know and potentially teach them more?”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to know how much they know or teach them,” Crewel chuckled, “one can’t be too careful with so much knowledge after all.”

‘Knowledge was power,’ you recalled someone telling you once long ago, ‘and too much power could either destroy you or save you.’

“Regardless,” Crewel continued, “I, personally, think it would be interesting to see exactly how much they know about us land dwellers. It would allow us to know if they are watching us and, if so, where we should look to find more - maybe even see how they live and coexist with each other, what parts of the ocean they are likely to hide out in… maybe even see how they mate!”

You sputter, “M-mate?!”

“Of course it’s perfectly natural for animals to go through mating seasons,” Crewel answered with a shrug, “For scientific purposes, it would be interesting to see if they mate like their animal forms or if they follow the human side of romantic courtship.”

‘I’m beginning to think you and the rest of this group are a bunch of perverts,’ you thought to yourself, grinding your teeth together, “And what are you going to do about… that particular question?”

“I think that is enough questions for the day,” Crewel raised his arms above his head, a popping noise indicating a cracked back as he let out a yawn, “Come, puppy. Both of us need rest - we’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

***

You didn’t see the twins when you first came in the following morning, nor even after depositing your stuff beside the coat rack and your lunch into the freezer. 

At first, you thought maybe they didn’t exist and you had dreamt up the encounter; but the memory of Crewel’s grin and comment about interacting with ‘Floyd’ kept replaying in your mind as you prepared the merfolks’ breakfast. As you leaned down to dump the second bucket into the pool, a sudden splash of water soaked you from head to toe - forcing you to drop your bucket and fall back on the concrete flooring, sputtering as giggles and clicking noises filled the room.  You brushed your damp hair and salted water away from your eyes as they fell on a familiar figure leaning over the edge of the pool.

Skin the color of seaweed shone under the dimmed fluorescent lights while a set of heterochromic eyes gleamed in delight at your surprise. A grin spread across the mer’s features, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that flashed in satisfaction, the dark teal strand falling in front of his features. 

You huff, grunting as you slowly stand and arch a brow at the creature, “Was that really necessary?”

The creature only beamed wider, clearly pleased with your reaction.

“Honestly, you scared me - nearly gave me a heart attack.”

The creature clicked a few times before pushing himself away and swimming around close to the edge, watching as you grab the last bucket and bring it to the edge.

“No more surprises, ok?” you eye the creature as you reach in and pull out a squid that was about the size of your palm - much larger than a fry, but too small for an adult - offering it to him, “I give you this, you won’t splash me again, deal?”

The moray mer chirps, moving his head in a nod and shifting his body slightly before you toss the squid in his direction. He catches it mid-air like a dog with a tennis ball, the squid dangling out of his mouth as he beams at you. You watch him carefully as you dump the contents into the water and he begins his meal. He starts with the tentacles, pulling them apart and gnawing on them while his webbed hands dug into the mantle of the miniature sea beast - strings of muscle, blood, and ink staining his features before crunching of bone echoes around.  

“Geez, take it easy,” you grumble, “no one is going to take it from you.”

The mer stops and regards you with a look that means, ‘Shut up, I’m trying to enjoy my meal.’

You return the buckets to the side of the freezer before grabbing your notebook and take a seat at the pool’s edge, opening it and beginning to jot down notes.

6:05 am: One of the mers has made an appearance this morning. Based on what I was told by Professor Crewel last night, I believe this one is Floyd - one of the twin morays. It’s hard to differentiate between the two of them, but if I had to venture a guess - Floyd is far more playful than his brother -

Nails clicked against the edge of the pool, forcing you to look up to see Floyd leaning over the edge, studying the word on the notebook. He shifted his gaze from the words before looking at you and back again. 

“What’s up?” 

Floyd chirped at you, crossing his arms and resting his chin on them, eyes watching your every movement as he continued to click and coo.

He stayed like this for the next several hours, clicks and chirps echoing in the room as you shifted between taking notes and partially listening to him. You figured he was telling you something, but since you didn’t understand him, you could only nod and hum in his direction as if you did understand. 

“Hungry,” he says eventually, the word throwing you off guard for a moment.

“Did you just.. Say ‘hungry’?” you asked, blink incredulously.

“Hungry,” Floyd said again, a grin spreading across his features, his eyes narrowing as he eyed you like a piece of shrimp.

“Alright, one moment Floyd,” you move to stand, only for your ankle to be caught by a webbed grip.

You turn, confused to see a look of surprise on the mer’s face.

“Name?” Floyd inquires.

“Are you asking if I know your name?” when the mer nods, you smile, “I was told your name. But, excuse me, I never introduced myself - I’m (Y/N). I’ve been tasked as your keeper.”

It was a white lie - a big one at that - but you weren’t sure if Floyd understood what ‘keeper’ meant nor if he understood that the three of them were under observation. However, you did want to be cautious in the event that in the case Floyd and the others did understand what was going on around them, you wouldn't be seen as a threat.

Floyd spoke your name softly, tasting the words on his tongue before grinning, baring sharp teeth as he shouted, “(Y/N)!” 

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit, murmuring behind a hand that covered your mouth, “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

Next thing you knew, Floyd launched himself from the edge of the pool and disappeared into the murky water, leaving you curious as to what he was up to. However, if he intended to splash you again, you weren’t going to stick around to find out.

You stood, stretching your back and legs before moving towards the freezer, with the intention of pulling out the three buckets for lunch when Floyd’s voice came again, “(Y/N)! (Y/N)!”

You turned with bucket in hand as Floyd approached the edge, his brother in tow - though he stayed at least a foot away from the edge, but keeping a close eye on you and his twin. You reach the edge a squat down, offering a smile to the second moray mer and a hand outstretched in a non-threatening manner. 

“Hello. You must be Jade, right?”

‘Jade’ lifts his head, allowing you to see his full face and neck, the water lapping at his shoulders, as surprise etched across his features. He blinks slowly, moving a little bit closer before his voice, soft and deep, speaks.

“Know name?”

‘So, Jade knows a few more words than Floyd,’ you think to yourself before nodding, “Yeah, I know your name. I told Floyd that I was told both of your names - I was assigned as your keeper for the time being.”

“Keeper?” Jade askes, head cocking to the side like a dog would.

“Yes, I’m in charge of taking care of you during the day. I’ll be here most of the time, except at night when I have to leave. But I’ll be here to feed you in the morning, afternoon, and evening, and spend time with you guys during the in between hours.”

The twins looked at each other, both clicking and chirping - eyes shifting between your crouched figure and themselves. The looks they shared during these few moments made you feel a bit uneasy, like they were sizing you up for a meal; it reminded you of the lewd glances you received from drunks at the bars you used to work when you first started working, hands sliding up your uniforms before one of the bartenders would step in and smack them away, reminding them the girls were not for touching. It made you shudder, goose pimples rising along your arms.

Jade seemed to notice, clicking softly at his brother as his features relaxed, heterochromia eyes softening on your figure.

“Hungry,” Jade’s voice brought you back, “We… are… hungry.”

***

It only took about a week for Jade to eventually warm up to you, the three of you getting along - even with Floyd’s continued antics.

From what you observed, Jade was the eldest of the two moray twins - he was courteous to you and most of the staff that had on more than one occasion popped in to check on you during your sessions with the two and often kept Floyd from getting too much out of hand; although he seemed to be the one that would antagonize his younger brother with a few clicks and chirps in his direction before Floyd would splash you with water or attempt to pull you in for a swim. Regardless, Jade was always there to pull his brother back while Floyd shrieked in mer - their native tongue that you supplied in your notes, thrashing about while the eldest cooed in delight at how quickly Floyd could be worked up. 

Jade was also very intelligent, often poking at the books you had brought along with you and chirping with curiosity. Unlike his brother, who had the attention span of a three-year-old, Jade listened intently to each word and pronounced them back to you with a few stutters here and there before saying the word like he was born to speak. He couldn’t form coherent sentences without the occasional click or chirp, but then again - speaking your native tongue was like you learning to speak his, it would take time and practice before he could reach that point. 

The easiest words for Jade are your name, the word ‘pearl,’ and greetings. He always glowers when the time comes for you to leave before grumbling in the water, bubbles appearing around his face as he sinks under the surface with only the top of his head and eyes peering out from beneath the enclosure’s water surface. Floyd had picked up on this and began copying his brother, both of them looking like angry puffer fish each time you leave the enclosure and lock the door behind you.

Trein stops you one evening on your way out, a black and white cat in his arms, “How are things going, little keeper?”

“I think I’m making progress,” you answer, holding out your filled up notebook from the first month to him, “Crewel requested I give you this at the end of the first month.”

“I should hope so,” Trein took the notebook, shifting the lazy cat in his arms around to flip through the pages, “I saw that you’ve become quite comfortable around the twins - Floyd nearly drowned you in the pool the other day, yes?”

“Almost, though I think he was just playing around,” you answer, “he’s like a little kid - so energetic.”

“Perhaps… How's the research on our cecaelia?”

“The cecaelia?”

Trein raised one brow as the cat harrumphed at you, “Did you forget there are three of them?”

“I suppose I did,” you gulp before shrugging sheepishly.

“Do not forget that there is more than just the twins in that enclosure,” Trein warned, closing the notebook with a loud snap in one hand, “The sea is as dangerous as its mysteries that lurk beneath its surface. The twins may be comfortable around you, but the cecaelia is something no one has ever seen, much less interacted with. If it were to pull you under the waters tomorrow, we’d never know what happened, and I doubt the twins would do much to save you either.”

“I won’t let anything happen,” you answer with a strong resolve, brows creasing inward, “besides, if Crewel’s hunch is correct, I might be able to get the twins to persuade the mer out if I play my cards right.”

“You better. Remember, you only have two months left. I’d like to see some progress before the end of next month.”

***

As was expected, the twins were no help at all.

Each day for the next week, you attempted to discuss the octomer with the twins - you figured if you could get more information about the mer in question, you might be able to indicate something about him in your notes. Unfortunately, the twins couldn't completely understand you - even when you drew out a picture of what appeared to be an octopus and tapped a finger against the drawing. They did, thankfully, seem to understand you were curious about the third member of their trio, with Floyd chirping "Octo-chan" a few times before disappearing under the water.

The only piece of information you could gather was a word, spoken by Jade when you first asked about the mer.

Azul.

But, azul was a color - blue, to be precise. What does "azul" have to do with an octopus? You contemplated this for several hours after the twins left you to your devices one morning. They had greeted you in their usual fashion before taking their leave and disappearing under the water. It had been about two weeks since Jade had spoken the word and even when you asked about it, the clicking and chirping that came from both mers had you scratching your head in confusion. 

Maybe "Azul" wasn't a color, but a name? Or code? 

You scratch the back of your neck as you look at the chart you've drawn out - hoping that you might get some answers. "Okay, let's see," you push the notebook forward and roll to lay on your stomach as the bottom end of the pen traces through the drawn lines and words, "Floyd and Jade are twins - that much is straightforward - and are literal polar opposites of each other. Other than looks, both of them are connected by the octomer who may or may not be named Azul. However, how are the three of them connected? How did they meet?"

You circle the question before moving on to the next part, "As for Azul - he doesn't seem fond of humans as the morays seem to be his protectors. We know he is an octopus, based on eyewitnesses during their capture - however, we don't know much else about him."

You tap your pen against the notepad before flipping through the other notebook that sat beside you, rereading all of the notes you had gathered during the course of the week when discussing the octomer to the morays. You shifted to a kneeling position, your body getting tired of laying flat on your stomach when you felt a pair of eyes watching you.

You turn your head toward the pool, eyes nearly popping out as a head dunks itself low, the top mop of white and lavender shaded hair falling across a set of unfamiliar sea blue eyes.

Dove gray skin glowed in the dimmed fluorescent lighting as the sea blue eyes peered at you curiously, pupils horizontal slits that expanded and constricted as the two of you locked eyes with each other. When he raised his head, the water revealed several long strands of silver that rested about chin length on the left side of his face - the rest of the starlight colored hair cut short with water dripping from the tips and creating little pointed tips on the ends. Full lips were slightly parted with surprise, a little beauty mark resting just below his bottom lip and nearly blocked by the long strand. Unlike Floyd and Jade, his ears matched that of a human - rounded and uncut by earrings many humans wore. Below him, you could only see blackness - a darkness that cut through the murky waters of the pool as multiple limbs shifted in the water.

Overall, the octomer was stunning.

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at him, holding out a hand to him, “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. Are you Azul?”

The octomer looks around cautiously before returning his gaze to you with a slow nod.

“You have a beautiful name, Azul. I’m (Y/N) - though I’m sure the twins told you about me.”

Azul nods, slowly reaching a hand out towards yours open one.

“(Y/N)?” the voice of Crewel comes from the entrance of the enclosure.

Startled, Azul disappears under the waves as the twins appear, a heavy wave of water dousing the two of you - causing the two of you to sputter in surprise. Jade growls at Crewel, snapping his jaws in a threatening manner while Floyd leans over the edge of the pool, getting into a protective stance in front of you and snarling at the professor before shifting his gaze at you with worry.

The only thing you can think of as you watch the scene before you unfold is, ‘Did I manage to become a part of Jade and Floyd’s group? If so, what happens now?’

[animalsalvationassociation]

I’ve caved & now the ASA Au is pivoting!!! 😅😘

(Please read to the end and vote on the poll!)

So I mentioned before that I wanted to go a more scientific route with my Octonauts Au, just because my writing usually delves into the fantasy/magic genres (I mean I write other things like Sci-Fi & Murder Mysteries, but there’s usually still a supernatural element to it).

However, this morning I found a lot of amazing inspiration that derives STRAIGHT from not only mythology but cryptozoology. I’ve talked it over with a moot and I believe I have a good idea of how I want to go about it.

So the story is going to be changing slightly. Ofc we’re gonna have our silly goofy Octonauts with their science fun, but I believe a criptid/monster subplot is just what we need!

Imagine a world where certain species have been believed to have gone extinct, only to find that most of those species exist and they’ve evolved. This will delve deeper into the scary/suspense aspect I’ve been looking for, allowing us to see if Kwazii’s monster tales might be telling some truths after all . . .

(Poll below)

PG-13: Mentions of Blood/Injuries, Violence, Use of weapons, Skipped Death Scenes (as in they’re mentioned but not included in the actual story), Scary/Suspenseful but not horribly traumatizing. (Think Superhero movies)

PG-14: Vivid Death Scenes (Most often they will be based off of memories), Heavy Weaponry, Horror Aspect (as in certain scenes are a little bit scarier than what they would be in a regular story, there’s more suspense and stakes), Lingering on the “edgier” side (idk how to explain it, it’s PG-14 for crying out loud) — (Think . . . Idk—Netflix has PG-14 which is on the cusp of being “Mature”, so go off that I guess)

Note:

Unfortunately in order to create the story I want to tell (even if it is a kids show) it has to feature at least some of these. However these two rating are literally based on violence only.

I don’t usually have swearing in my stories (it makes me uncomfortable to write unless it’s literally the only way the sentence flows/or it makes sense for the character, I only have a few exceptions however like Hell/Damn even then I still don’t use them often)

However keep in mind, we can have certain aspects of both. If you want a scarier story in the eyes of PG-13, we can do that. I’ll just be careful how I approach the subject.

(This is the only way I can actually explain how the story will play out by literally rating it. By giving it a rating most people are going to understand what it means and will judge based on their interests/age. Please be responsible and respectful. I am not responsible for your choices, especially if you are under the age of 13.)

[directdogman]

Hey dogman, idk if you answered this

Who, out of both DSAF and Dialtown, was your favourite to write and/or create?

It's very hard for me to pick favourites with my characters because I don't tend to give characters a lot of screen-time unless I find a character interesting or fun to write. You've caught me in a talkative mood, so warning, there's an onslaught of text coming!

DSaF: Dave was the most fun to write for, as I remember it. I mean, the guy is the walking personification of chaos and even when he's being constructive (eg, rigging robots to do insane stuff), it's usually in a destructive capacity. Dave will do LITERALLY ANYTHING but contribute to society in meaningful/valuable ways.

In terms of what character-writing I was most 'proud' of, I was also pretty happy with Dr Henry Miller, as a villain. Namely the research he embarked on, described in his logs in DSaF 3 (which the fandom evidently agreed with, as I got really strong feedback on those logs.)

One issue a lot of people (including myself) have with canon William Afton is that he's this kind of mad scientist character but his research doesn't really seem to be... idk, going anywhere? Other than using remnant (soul nectar?) to make kids possess robots, it's kind of a mystery how he got to this point he did from running a bad fast food restaurant. William gets fleshed out motivations in TSE and even then, it mainly revolves around his relationship with Henry Emily, iirc. It's actually pretty accurate to how real serial killers think, imo, but there's a pretty wide berth between this kind of serial killer and becoming a sci-fi fast-food mad scientist... So, I decided to try to bridge that gap.

DSaF Henry's logs actually mention where the idea for his research came from, namely the fact that he existed in a world with normal scientific rules just like ours and seemingly discovered something supernatural, and he approaches it like an amoral scientist would - trying to figure out how to figure out more about the fabric of reality using the newly discovered phenomenon of possession. The 'joy of creation' phrase people pulled from Golden Freddy's phone call in FNaF 1 is given context - Henry is trying to find out what's on the other side (and eventually, how existence itself formed.)

There's other aspects to his character that make him more interesting too, like the implication that his research is partially an excuse for him to act on an underlying sadism (with scenes implying that he inflicts damage on others than can't be justified as assisting with his research.) His background as a dissident/quack laughing-stock scientist (thanks to pushing his soul theory in a best-selling book, which is considered pseudoscience) BEFORE he embarked on his journey to become a fast food tycoon also makes it less farfetch'd that he'd be capable of y'know, harvesting human souls intentionally to continue his research?

I had more for the character on paper that people haven't seen but some of it wasn't revealed due to it feeling a bit too disturbing to publish. None of the contents would've been all that controversial, more just too tonally disturbing when written about in detail (like a omitted part from his backstory/lore post where he managed to pick up a hazy audio of his wife + son's crying from the radio of the car his wife/son drowned in and reacted with genuine elation upon realizing he'd discovered a new scientific phenomenon (as this was the first time Henry witnessed soul-possession.)) Yeah.

I don't feel much of a need to revisit Henry as a character because as a series villain, he was pretty thoroughly-written and he did his job effectively... And his fate was well earned! (He even got an epilogue short-story a few years back, further cementing his fate!)

Dialtown: From the characters/writing that the fandom has seen? Tough to say. I genuinely really like every DT character. Gingi and Mayor Mingus are two of my favourite characters to write for because they're both really insistent and react to adversity in a really comically indignant way. Mingus is more like Gingi than she cares to admit in very specific ways, which is the core hypocrisy of her character - she's one of the most abnormal things IN Dialtown, and spends the game on a quest opposing abnormality that she, herself, can't stand.

Many absolute rulers have debilitating physical and/or mental cruxes and despite that, usually have the final say on what is/isn't okay, often guided by arbitrary preferences. It's funny to remember all of the ancient kings and emperors who dictated how others should act, talk and even think, when very many of them themselves were anything except a good reflection of their own subjects! It's an irony I quite enjoy and leads to a fun character to write for!

My favourite DT writing is probably some of my Callum Crown speech drafts. I have a definite bias here since Crown's character is based on many figures I've encountered in my own reading (and his story relates to topics I enjoy reading about.) A lot of that is real nerd shit that wouldn't be interesting to 99.9% of DT fans (like a long conversation where Crown + Milt discuss a campaign speech Milt wrote for Crown and they bicker about if the wording/arguments used are truly honest.) Again, not super relevant to Dialtown-proper, but it explains a lot about why the world of DT ended up the way it did.

Realistically, the story of Dialtown itself is basically a weird little epilogue to a story that ended decades upon decades ago, centered around a bunch of small-town nobodies circling around the carcass of the last surviving main character of the old story.

I'm also very happy with Gingi's character partially because I know more about Gingi's past/future than you guys do. Gingi has such rotten memory that Gingi's backstory before DT's story begins is basically a complete mystery. Thanks to Gingi never getting close enough to any humans before laying its eggs, there's nobody in Gingi's life that can fill in the gaps. Companionship means so much to Gingi because prior to meeting The Gang, Gingi is aware of a massive and unknown block of time that's a complete mystery precisely because Gingi had nobody in its life. To Gingi, this time was basically akin to being non-sentient or dead, and Gingi would never go back.

While I was making DSaF, I drafted a ton of other stories on paper. I considered making most of them, but decided not to for various reasons, despite getting some solid feedback from collaborators. Bits of almost all of those project ideas made it into DT, with Gingi having traits from several other main characters I prototyped years and years ago. This includes where Gingi came from and what exactly Gingi is. I don't want to mislead people into thinking Gingi is more important than it is, like Gingi is the key to unlocking DT lore (I promise there's a LOT of aimless scuttling/devouring in Gingi's past and relatively little else!) BUT: Of everything from those old scrapped projects, Gingi is what I decided deserved to survive the most. And that has to count for something.

One day I'd love to make sequels to DT and perhaps explore some of the stuff I've described above, like why the hell the world of DT is the way it is or maybe where the hell Gingi spawned from. Thanks