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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hi, I absolutely adore your stuff!!! Its my birthday soon and I would be forever grateful if you could write me something for Zim? I dont really mind what it is or what it's about. I'd just be happy for cute headcannons. Thank youuuuuuu!!!!💞😘

Sure!! I finally got to this. I’ve been wanting to write some headcanons anyway, but I have a lot in my ask box so I just haven’t gotten to it yet. This is basically a list of various headcanons that are cute (in my opinion), they don’t really have a specifc theme!

Cute Zim relationship headcanons (all are my personal opinion)!!

Irkens are touch starved, since the entire empire is basically one big military. Love within Irken society is incredibly taboo, as is physical affection. Most forms of physical contact between Irkens tend to be painful (i.e punches, kicks, strikes). The whole concept of romantic relationships was a bit of a culture shock to Zim.

That being said, the very first time you had attempted something in that vein (even if it was something as simple as a hug or taking his hand), he wasn’t quite sure how to react. At first he was very jumpy. However, if you would pull away, he would immediately bring you back in.

In the beginning, you would have to be the one to instigate anything romantic. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want it (he was pretty much hooked on physical affection the first time you held his hand), rather he was too proud to ask for anything. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, begging for attention. He was Irk’s finest soldier after all!

Eventually, he had stopped caring about that. Once he gained confidence with the whole thing, he would make the first moves quite often. Because if he wanted it, he would take it (within your comfort level of course).

Zim is a clingy bastard. Too conceited to admit it, but clingy nonetheless. If you ignore him for too long, he will begin to bug you in the most obnoxious ways imaginable. Trying to work or be productive? He’s basically the equivalent of a cat, he’ll just lay right across whatever you’re trying to do, or right on top of you to prevent you from accomplishing anything. If he can’t do that, he’ll bitch and moan until you acknowledge his existence. If you somehow manage to ignore him after all of that, he’ll get all schmoopy and lay on the ground all depressed like (basically that one scene from ETF) until you go convince him you still love him.

(more under the cut)

Despite being cautious with hugs at first, he learned to love them. Again, he would never say this aloud, but they make him feel warm and safe. Zim would never verbally ask for a hug, rather just slither his way into your arms. This happens often, especially when he’s unhappy. Sometimes he’ll even use his PAK legs along with his arms, although he’s very careful when he does this since they can be sharp; this usually happens if he thinks you need to be protected from something, even if it’s not a physical threat (breakdowns worry him, he believes you to be in danger from something he can’t fight).

Holding hands is something Zim likes a lot. Not only does it feel nice, he’s discovered it to be a very effective way to show the world that you are his, and that he is yours. He tends to be a bit jealous and overprotective, so if he feels that there is even a minor possibility of your relationship being threatened, his clinginess goes up a thousand percent. Anytime you walk anywhere together, you better believe your hands are linked.

Cuddles are also a thing he loves dearly. Once he gets comfortable, Zim is definitely a cuddle bug. It’s like a hug but better! And if you’re at his place, there is a ninety percent chance GIR is joining in. Just like one happy family! Again, if he initiates it, he won’t ask for it. You could just be sitting on a couch and he’ll slowly curl himself into you, gradually latching a limb at a time onto you, until you’re both just a mess of tangled arms and legs. But, oh, if you even make the smallest remark about him being cute, he’ll throw a hissy fit and say that he’s just doing this for your sake, not his own enjoyment (and then two seconds later he’ll be purring and chirping in your arms, content as can be).

Zim is competitive as hell. He’ll turn anything into a competition if you let him. If you remain passive and assure him that, yes, he is the best, he’ll leave it at that. However, if you don’t back down and try to give him a run for his money, expect an all out war. You can use this to your advantage. For example, want him to be overly-affectionate for the day? Challenge him to see who can do the most nice things for each other. Even if he says that’s stupid, he’ll still accept the challenge and suddenly you have the sweetest alien in the universe. He will never back down. Ever. So these little games will be drug out for as long as you let them. It’s best just to let him win after a day or two.

Dates with Zim are either the most outlandish thing you’ve ever done, or the most charming and romantic. There’s no in-between. And they can go from zero to a hundred real quick. Typical Earth dates make no sense to him in the slightest, so even if he does try to take you on a cliché date (dinner and a movie, stuff like that), it will most likely go horribly wrong as a result of poor planning. Those dates tend to be the funniest, but they frustrate him to no end since he clearly can’t get them right. He tends to be more successful when he stops trying to think like a human, since he really can’t. Lots of dates in space ensue, which tend to be both exciting and amazing. Although everywhere he takes you isn’t anything special to him, he can tell you’re having the time of your life, which is enough to satisfy him. GIR probably tags along a lot (not only is he a great robot son, he makes an excellent wing man).

Kissing is a very strange experience for him. Zim has never understood the act itself or its appeal, and at first found it rather disgusting. Eventually he gets used to it, but he’s still completely confused by it. It’s not his favorite thing, and he definitely has to be in the mood for it, but he’s more willing to take part in it. Especially if it becomes competitive; pray for yourself then, because you have a monster on your hands. And if someone just won’t get the hint, kissing is his way of telling them to step off before they lose a limb; he’s a jealous little devil when it comes to you.

As time goes on, you’ll begin to notice that several articles of clothes of yours have gone missing. Zim likes to take jackets he thinks you won’t miss anymore, because as previously mentioned, he’s a clingy bugger, and so when you can’t be around him, he’ll put one of those on while he works down in the lab or is doing repairs. If he gets it dirty, he’ll sneakily throw it with the rest of your laundry and take another one.

Zim is extremely proud to have you. He will show you off to anyone and everyone who will listen, including his Tallest (who seemed rather confused). At first it was embarrassing, but you had just learned to roll with the inevitable.

If you ask very nicely (i.e. offering cuddles and feeding his ego), Zim could be convinced to give you a lesson on flying the voot cruiser. Does it go well? Well, Zim’s piloting skills are...not consistently amazing, his teaching skills even less so, but you didn’t kill yourselves. You would have thought he would be pissed after the ship was docked in the hangar in worse condition than it had left, but surprisingly he was even more motivated to teach you to pilot an Irken ship. Mainly because it was a way to spend time with you in a way that he could understand, but nonetheless he made flying lessons a regular thing.

Expect gifts constantly. Despite his evil plans going horribly wrong all of the time, Zim is actually incredibly skilled when it comes to tech. So, he makes you things. A lot. They tend to be things that are actually useful, with far more advanced technology than anything available on Earth. Plus, Zim is a million times more helpful than an IT guy. Your phone or laptop not working? You can take it to Zim and within five minutes not only is your original problem fixed, but the device itself has been completely upgraded with Irken tech to give it more functionality and efficiancy than you could have ever dreamed of.

Overall, despite his flaws and being a massive pain in the ass, Zim is a cutie in his own right. :)

#invader zim #headcanon #invader zim headcanons #zim x reader #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim fic #request #fanfiction #fanfic

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gamerdamemedia · 3 years

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Test Case

So, for a couple weeks now I made a fatal mistake for all fanfic writers: I watched something different that inspired a story idea, & I haven’t been able to get it out of my head & distracting me from other things. So, as I write to exorcise ideas from my head to make space, I decided to put pen to paper this afternoon... or fingers to keyboard, I guess, & write some of it out. Not sure I’ll actually ever share it, as it might stay just my personal pet project, but I figured I could at least share the start. Even writers needs a little side project just for their own enjoyment. Now that studying is done & I’m back from vacation, hopefully I can get back to some regular schedule. I’ve been out of sorts during this crunch time before the big test.

In the grand scheme of the cosmos, freezing to death while drifting along the Etherium wasn't the worst way to go. She could think of many worse ways to die after being spaced. She could fall into the vacuum of space and suffocate, or stray too close to a star and get pulled in by its gravitational force to burn up, sucked into a black hole, or starve (or more likely die from dehydration). But it seemed fate had seen fit to deal her a slightly kinder hand. A hand that still said she was screwed, but only in the gentlest way. With fancy silk sheets and plenty of lubrication.

She would've laughed, but that would exacerbate the splitting headache she already had, so she settled for a chuff. Clearly the delirium of losing core body heat was setting in.

It seemed a rather appropriate bookend to her story, short though it may be. Fitting that her last memory should be bobbing freely along the Etherium waves to wherever they deigned to take her, as it was also her earliest. Gazing up at the endless, twinkling abyss, she could almost imagine the hard wooden deck of her grandfather's old longboat beneath her back. Or maybe the rough fabric of his overalls, with the button that always seemed to poke her in her shoulder blade as she reclined against his portly torso. She smiled to herself then. That's a nice thought, she said to herself, letting her head drift back, supported by nothing but the lack of gravity. It was almost enough to fight off the creeping chill that raced ahead of the numbness as her limbs stopped receiving vital blood. She'd always ridden the waves as they came, be them Etherium or fate, letting them take her where they willed. Why should the end be any different? "A man's heart devises his way, but fate directs his steps," her grandfather would say. Smart man, for just a farmer.

The irony wasn't lost on her, even as her brain began to sluggishly flit around poorly connected thoughts. The woman who always had an escape plan, always left a way out... Lady Luck had robbed her of her one vice. Not that she hadn't tried. It was getting out that had landed her in this situation in the first place. She'd booked passage on a small transport ship out of the Calyn Abyss to... actually, she didn't remember where the vessel was enroute to. Away, was all that mattered. A deal had turned particularly sour, and she needed to disappear in hurry. With enough money in the right hands and a vessel about to pull out of port, nobody asked questions. She'd stepped onto that dock as Absence, and left as Tammy Righte.

Things had been going well, until a bit of turbulence from a passing comet had caused some sort of electrical malfunction. As the transport rocked and swayed, the occupants had tied their lifelines, hoping to ride out the waves. That was when everything started blowing. Something must've shorted, creating a fire below deck. She remembered people screaming as the deck shook. A particularly violent blast caused the ship to tilt and lurch, bucking like a mad bonzabeast, throwing her from the deck. She remembered feeling weightless as she escaped the protective sphere of the ship's artificial gravity. The last thing she remembered was something metallic from the ship hitting her squarely in the face before blacking out.

When she woke an unknown amount of time later, she found herself adrift in space, far from anything to save herself with. Her face ached something fierce, and she'd touched it to feel blood. Without gravity, it couldn't really pour, but she felt it oozing with each pounding pulse of her heart, trickling along her face whenever she turned her head.

Despite the name, one couldn't swim through Etherium currents like water. You went wherever they took you. The knock from the ship had sent her essentially careening through space, and she'd keep going that way thanks to the lack of friction unless something intervened. Not wanting to die, as any warm-blooded being wouldn't, she'd tried to find some way to stop or change her course. But she wasn't near anything. Eventually, hypothermia started to set in, and her limbs became too leaden to move. At that point, she'd resigned herself to her fate. Why die tired?

She reached up a hand to wipe the blood trickling in the corner of her eye, but her aim was sloppy due to not being able to feel her hands anymore. Don't spend your last moments thinking about such things, she told herself. Shouldn't her last moments be happy?

Relaxing back into the Etherium, she went back to imagining herself on her grandfather's boat, bobbing along. They'd spent many a'night floating aimlessly in the sky, the green plains of her home rolling peacefully below them in the breeze. As a little girl, she would sometimes lean out over the side of the longboat, so far her grandfather would have to pull her back to stop her from falling. She'd giggle as he tickled her, tucking her safely to his chest. "Tryin' to fly away, little bird?" he'd ask. "Ya' too young for that, yet." Some nights, if the weather was clear, he'd teach her about the different stars and planets. He'd tell her tales about his brief stint in the Navy, or some adventure from his wild youth-- sometimes they'd even be true! Other times, they'd fall asleep drifting, only to wake up in some random place and go on an "adventure" to get back home. Basic navigational and map-reading skills were an essential pick up. He liked to pretend he was teaching her, but she knew better. Man couldn't find his way out of room with a single door some days.

Her favorite nights, though, were when he'd pull out his old harmonica and play for her. On particularly clear, cool nights like this, his tune would be slow, the notes dragging on for long periods before warbling, bobbing like the waves. She always felt like she was rising and falling in time with the tune. Her hand came up to rest on her breast pocket. Despite not having feeling in her fingers anymore, she knew the harmonica was still safe within. She felt its outline pressing into her chest. Briefly, she thought to take it out and play one final song on the old instrument in memorial, but with her hands as they were, she wouldn't be able to play. And she didn't want to lose it. So, she settled for letting her hand rest there, taking comfort in its presence over her heart.

Everything felt heavy now, to the point she almost expected to start sinking. The organ beneath her hand was beginning to slow as it lost the fight to keep her warm. Non-vital organs would start shutting down soon.

She forced her mind back to more times with her grandfather, this time on land. "Don't think you're too good to put your hands to hard work, little bird," he'd tell her... usually while making her do something around the farm he didn't want to do. Chasing down some ornery creature that didn't want to be hemmed up, most likely. Or time spent fishing at Mrs. Neelie's pond. She didn't actually like to fish, didn't have the patience for it, but she always went to watch him. She swore, her grandfather could be in the middle of an ocean, miles from anything else, and still manage to get snagged on something. Or there was the time he tripped coming down the hill and nearly knocked old Mrs. Neelie into the pond. She'd had to sit down, she'd laughed so hard. "Go ahead, laugh at the old man," he’d warned her.

Her laughter melded into a sob at the end, lips pulled back in a grimace. The stars around her shined even brighter in the light of her tears stuck to her lashes. She felt her lower lip wobble. No one was around, what was the point? She allowed herself to cry, flailing in impotent rage. "I don't want to die!" she shouted to the heavens. Maybe this close, someone would actually hear her and take pity.

There would be no one to mourn her, no one to even report her missing. Absence would be hunted for a while until her pursuers gave up and cut their losses. Tammy Righte would be listed as death in absentia, another sad statistic. All her other alias would only be missed when a contact tried to reach her for something, but swiftly forgotten as they looked elsewhere for someone to do their dirty work. Her more frequent clients might wonder, but it would be a passing question, like the fate of a childhood schoolmate. She'd ghosted through life, taking different names along the way. She went through names like normal people went through clothes: you pick one as needs demand, it gets a little too dirty, discard it and pick out a new one. So many names and alias and identities. Her real name safely locked away.

There was no one left who knew who she really was.

The brief burst of indignation warmed her a little, but the almost absolute zero temperature of space just as quickly sapped it from her, the cold once again cradling her in its loving embrace. Fear threatened to creep up faster than the cold. She'd never been the religious sort. She didn't know if there was anything after this. But if there was, she was sure she'd be going to same place as her grandfather, and that thought offered some bittersweet comfort. Likely not heaven, but if he was there that would be heaven enough. She wrapped her arms around herself as best she could, imagining it was the warm embrace of her grandfather. Droplets floated up from her lashes as she smiled. She'd held his hand when he died, a smile on his face. She kinda wished she had someone to hold her hand, now. "Meet me at the bar, old man," she whispered. "I'm buying this time." Then she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to happier times as the cold, gentle embrace of death shrouded her.

#writing #side project #pilot #curious if anyone will know what this is even from #fiction #fanfiction

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asclepius-erebus · 4 years

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The Armored Man

Title: Personal Eden (Ongoing)

Chapter 1: The Armored Man

Rating: Mature (17+)

Word Count: 2.0k

TW: Mentions of abuse (physical/verbal)

Flanked by suited guards at all four corners of the private billiards room, you stand nervously at the side of your master; an aging politician, paranoid about not only his perception in the public eye, but also self-preservation in the wake of his long winded history of gambling, trafficking, and despicable ideologies that have even the most corrupt audiences cannot accept. He frequents this particular casino, how fitting, and is notorious for his poor betting skills and overall ineptitude for making any sort of rational monetary agreement. You’ve witnessed his dumbness before, betting all of his credits away simply to serve his enormous ego.

You keep your head low, not allowing yourself even a glimpse at his newest client until it was permitted of you to do so, that was the rule. Instead, you focus on the sparkling silver platter in your hands, covered with an equally as spectacular dish cover, with elaborate embellishments and with enough brilliance for you to make out even the finest details in the reflections of the muraled ceiling. You catch your own reflection in it, your ruby lips coming to a fine line of both despondence and humiliation.

For as long as you’ve endured this job, it never fills you with the pride that your master promised you it would, nor what he shames you into believing.

You’d agreed to the work a few years ago (five… perhaps), where the pay was handsome, living conditions guaranteed to be provided, and with the promise of growth and experience to graduate you into higher ranked and paying jobs. However, you quickly learn this was not the case when standing in a line with many other girls who looked nearly exactly the same as you. But by then, you’d signed the contract, and you were picked out of that line of young women to serve the man you are not allowed to refer by name but simply master and sir. It’s an arrangement you deeply detest, but one you’ve been conditioned to follow out of fear for your own safety, and security.

“Mando!” Your master greets boisterously, “If you don’t mind me calling you that.”

“Ja’Aele Malsifer.” You hear a voice say in polite greeting, filtered by a modulator, the speaker likely wearing a helmet. But even over the digital graininess, their tone felt warm and pleasant. You do not hear them take the empty seat at the other side of the table, Malsifer is surely displeased by the blatant rejection of his gesture of performative kindness.

“Lighten up, will you? It’s just us friends here today. Y’don’t need to be so uptight.” Malsifer continues, popping open the top of a crystal whiskey bottle and serving himself and his guest a drink. There was still no movement to be heard from the guest he refers to as ‘Mando’.

“I don’t remember us ever being friends, Malsifer.” Mando responds, you hear him lean on the back of the upholstered chair, “What do you have for me, otherwise, I’m leaving.”

You understand this to be your cue to set the silver platter down between them at the table, before the sharp quip of Malsifer’s metal cane snaps at your shins and you nearly let the silver platter collapse onto the ground. Luckily you catch it.

“I didn’t tell you to put it down, did I?” He hisses through his teeth, returning his cane at the side of his seat before taking a drink of his whiskey, “Please, Mando, you haven’t touched your drink!”

“I didn’t ask for it.” Mando responds sharply, “I don’t have time, nor the patience. What do you have?”

Malsifer bitterly motions with his glass for you to set the platter down at the center of the table, removing the cover to unveil a handful of tracking fobs, some blinking more erratically than others. At this opportunity, you steal a glance upwards at his guest, Mando, to find him completely decorated in armor made of Beskar.

He looks completely and utterly enormous in his costume; broad shoulders, puffed chest, gnarly buttons and switches across his wrists, and a cape round his neck for what could only be dramatic effect. He is terrifying.

You have experienced your fair share of questionable clients that Malsifer hosted, some as physically repulsing as Hutts, and others more beautiful like Twi’leks, but this armored man (if he even was a man) is clearly a terrifying force, one that earned the Beskar to decorate his armor.

You back away to the side of your master, awaiting any further instruction, and perhaps the opportunity to finally lift your lowered gaze.

“I have a few… enemies, so to speak.” He begins, “Some unfriendly business partners for whom a bounty is worth less than what they owe me.”

“What’s your point?” The armored man asks, “You’d rather have them killed than for them to pay you back?”

You agree to his logic. At this point, you’ve known that Malsifer has exhausted his coffers extensively, and that it’s much easier to clear his debt by killing the ones who owe him and to upcharge anyone or anything that is now required to repay the enormous sums.

“I’m offering you payment for a service.” He replies simply.

“I’m a bounty hunter, not an assassin.” Mando replies just as tersely.

“Exactly!” Malsifer exclaims, “What made you think I won’t compensate you for your troubles?”

“It’s not just me who thinks so.” Mando responds.

Malsifer laughs, swirling his whiskey, “I’m well aware, which is why I’d rather invest in something well worth my money.”

At this point, your eyes perk up at the conversation, sensing that Malsifer’s patience is eating away with every passing moment. Mando does not seem willing to entertain his comments and sarcasm, however, it is how Malsifer determines who is his friend or foe. He is the classical example of someone who requires others to enable his behaviors rather than constructive criticism, no matter how kindly you approach the matter. You’ve felt it across your knees and shins even with the softest, most encouraging, tone of voice.

Mando clears his throat, reaching from some place behind him and keeping his hand there for a moment, “I’ve been given an offer much more expensive than yours…”

“I’ll double the pay!” Malsifer says boldly, his vision set on what Mando holds behind him.

Suddenly, clattering onto the table, is another tracking fob, blinking angrily and rapidly as though the target were right in front of it.

Mando clears his throat, “You.”

Malsifer’s eyes widen in surprise.

The room erupts into the deafening shrieks of red blaster fire as they fly into every corner of the room with deadly precision and accuracy and into Malsifer, before stopping at you.

Your skin erupts into fine little goosebumps, a chill sweeping over you as you barely finish inhaling a breath and drop the silver platter’s cover onto the carpeted ground. The yell you let escape is short lived when you realize that the blaster has taken aim at you, with Mando behind the trigger.

“You. Who are you?” He demands.

Your name quivers from your scared lips, tears blurring your vision altogether as you silently pray to the Maker in an effort to consolidate a good place for you in the afterlife.

“Will you help me take him back to my ship?” Mando asks, his blaster still trained onto you, grip slightly loosened. His voice took on a softer tone, more sympathetic.

Your eyes focus onto him. You didn’t notice his helmet before, too focused on the elaborateness of his other armor to see that the same skill and craftsmanship had been applied to his helmet as well. Sharp angles of the Beskar metal accentuate where sunken cheeks would be, and a thin and impenetrably black visor is the only point of reference for eyes. It looks too much like a storm trooper’s helmet, but judging from the medium of choice, an Imperial manufacturer couldn’t possibly invest so much time, effort, and credits into giving all hundreds and millions of stormtroopers a full set of armor made of Beskar.

“What are you?” You ask, voice shaking, already feeling your makeup melt off your face with every trickling tear.

Mando lowers his blaster irritably, “Will you help me take him back to my ship?”

You decide against any further questioning, knowing that soon, more security will arrive to investigate the situation. For you, it would surely be on sight.

Nodding, he hoists the lifeless body of your master onto his shoulder before slinging his arm over your shoulders to distribute the brunt of the weight more equally. Malsifer’s metal cane topples to the ground.

Mando kicks it up into his hand, briefly investigating it and removing the silver head piece, revealing the small and compact dagger that you’ve seen be used as a letter opener and an interrogation device.

He hands it off to you, “Might come in handy.” He says.

You’re physically repulsed to be holding the instrument of yours and other’s misery in your hands as a ‘handy’ tool to inflict yet even more suffering, as if it weren’t enough. Clearly, the armored man had little consideration for that.

The two of you clamor out another exit, one that led down an empty stairwell and out back into the gardens. The air smelled rich with incoming rainfall and the aromatic flowers that bloom during the later night hours. This would be an enjoyable setting, however, with a dead body slung over your shoulders, your body experienced all ranges of emotions at once, fifty times over.

The sky begins to open up as the two of you race across the mazes and patches of flowers and into the neighboring forest of trees whose dense canopies made it that much darker than the night and two moons could already afford. The leaves, however, did little to shield from the heavy rain that punished you further on the already unfortunate night. The light and flowy dresses that Malsifer had you wear did little to protect you against the cold downpour that transpires over the course of a few minutes. They stick to your arms, legs, and back as you race with the armored man through the forest, the sounds of shouting and alarms blaring behind you.

The armored man slows, stopping upon an open hull to a ship you could not see very well in the dark. He releases you from the weight of your dead master, dragging him up into the darkness of the hull.

“Go!” The armored man shouts at you insistently.

Your eyes dart behind you, the noise of the shouting, the alarms, and the rain overwhelming your already stressed senses. You try to quickly think of a way out of the forest, but you’re helpless without anything to protect you, feed you, and keep you safe against the elements of the landscape you’re not familiar with. The mobs will certainly find you amidst the shrubbery and trees, making you basically dead. You’d be framed for Malsifer’s death, and subsequently be put to death as punishment.

You look back up at the armored man, who continues to haul Malsifer’s body further into the abyss of his dark hull.

“I have no where to go!” You cry up into the hull, hoping that Mando could hear you, “If I stay I’ll be killed!”

The familiar armor returns into view, side stepping one side of his body out of the ship and the other remaining inside, also deliberating something.

“I don’t need anyone else on my ship.” He says dryly, his helmet looking down at you from his height.

You look back in the direction of the casino, the mobs sounding as if they’re closer.

“Please?!” You beg, “You don’t understand, I have no where to go! I have no family, no friends, no money! If they find me here they’ll blame the murder on me, and then they’ll kill me if they don’t do it now!”

The armored man looks into the distance, seeing the same dancing lights as you are of search animals and security officers scouring the area for yours and his scents.

“Fine.” He says, “Get in”.

#din djarin #din djarin/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #star wars #reader insert #asclepius-erebus

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loveislattes · 4 years

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Patience Is Key (Darkiplier/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2 (End)

Commission prompt: Reader only knows that sex is pain, so Dark shows her otherwise…?

Mentions past abusive relationship but doesn’t go into any detail!

Content: Smut, smut, smut, smut! Some demon tentacle/tendril play, dom/sub themes, biting, and mentions of praise!

A/N: I hope it was worth the wait, guys! Love you all! Also! I was listening to Two Feet- Momentum EP on repeat while writing the smut. If you haven’t heard it, I would DEFINITELY encourage you to! Its sultry and enticing and just lovely.

@heapass0

@underthedark13

@moriimae

@oi-fischfuck

@beck384

@book-of-roses

@therealcap

It was a strange arrangement, living with a literal demon, but it wasn’t bad. Knowing there was a badass immeasurable force protecting the house kept my anxiety to a bare minimum. Not to mention, for his talk of being around more, we weren’t usually in the house at the same time. Oftentimes the only way I’d know he’d even been in the building was the fact my closet door was open. On the rare occasion that we were actually home together, it was just like being with any other roommate. Sometimes he’d stay in what was now designated as his bedroom and other times he’d read beside me on the couch while I watched movies.

No matter where he was or what he was doing, he was quiet; which was a pity because he had such a beautiful voice but it was also probably for the best considering how much I’d come to enjoy it. Hell, I just enjoyed being in his presence in general. Serene though he was, he was good company. He was always such a good listener and found ways to keep my talking about myself which usually was a topic I avoided. He made me feel comfortable, important, despite the fact he was leagues above me in the order of the world.

I let out a little sigh and rolled onto my back, letting my tablet fall to the bed beside me in favor of wrapping up my stomach. Anytime I thought about him I got those annoying little butterflies in my gut. Why did he have to be so damn attractive? Not just physically, either, although I’d be the first to admit his looks alone could bring me to my knees. Our personalities meshed so well together. I’d never met another person- being- who actually enjoyed sitting in another’s company in silence. Everyone always felt the need to be doing something, but I preferred just being side by side with our own activities. Mixed with that fact he was undeniably genius-level smart and courteous in a way most human men weren’t- I didn’t stand a chance.

“What a perfect asshole,” I huffed quietly.

It was late and I knew I had to try to get some sleep before work tomorrow. Unfortunately, that would mean I’d have to stop daydreaming and actually sleep but once I started thinking about Dark, it was almost impossible to stop. Work was already a hellish land without exhaustion so it was with much grumbling and sighing that I rolled over onto my side and forced my mind quiet.

Think of something calming. Rain; Watching a storm through the bedroom window at night. Listening to the raindrops and staring out at the dark sky. Dark… Would he be the kind of person who enjoyed watching storms too? Or even stargaze? Damn, how amazing would it feel to cuddle up to him on the roof and stare up at the sky? - Fuck, no! Stop it brain.

Despite burrowing under the covers and wrapping up like a human burrito, I just couldn’t get my mind to shut up. My body was nearly humming with thoughts of him. After half an hour of tossing and turning, I gave in to my baser instincts. It was the one thing I knew would knock me out easily. Throwing my blankets aside, I snagged my trusty toy from the bedside table and switched it on.

The instant I felt the vibrations on my clit my body nearly melted in place.

“Fuuuuck, yeah. This was a good idea,” I mumbled weakly.

Legs falling aside, I let the vibrator go to work in all the right places. The stress of the day, of my crush on my demonic roommate, slowly ebbed away to be taken over by that familiar pleasure. Unbidden fantasies of Dark slowly danced their way into my thoughts and an overwhelming shudder wracked my form; How he’d look over me, how his fangs would feel against my skin, how his voice would echo in the throes of passion.

“Oh Dark! Shit!”

Mewls of his name filtered out over and over as I quickly neared the edge of bliss. It was so close I could practically taste it, the tendrils teasing up my calves in anticipation. A dreamy giggle escaped my lips as I felt an unexpected tickle behind my knees. It wasn’t until what I thought were the imaginary tingles of my impending orgasm solidified into a bruising hold that I realized it wasn’t just my mind.

“Wha-!!”

Before I could even protest, I was jerked towards the edge of the bed with a force almost inhuman.

“Oh, please, don’t stop on my account. I just wanted a… better view.”

That voice. Mortification rolled like bile up my gut as I jerked upright. It was with burning cheeks that I jerked my blanket over my lap, earning a chuckle from the intruder.

Dark smirked from his spot against the closet door, looking way too casual for someone who’d just caught me moaning their name.

“You know I could just remove that if I really wished to,” he hummed lowly.

I was trying to find some snappy retort when suddenly I felt the thing holding my right leg let go and push up the blanket before dropping it once again symbolically.

“Wait, these- that’s you?” I whispered in disbelief.

Without a second thought, I jerked the blanket away and stared in awe at the smokey black vines wrapped around my legs. I tried to follow them to the source but they ended up blending it with the darkness of the floor halfway to Dark.

“Yes, they are a part of me,” he finally replied.

I knew I most likely resembled a fish out of the water with how I gaped at him but it was taking my brain a little while to catch up. While I knew he had powers beyond my comprehension, I hadn’t even imagined something like this.

“O-Oh,” I whispered.

His amused chuckle brought my attention back up to him, only now he was much closer and I was reminded of just how obscenely I had been saying his name minutes ago.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

He put up a hand and I went silent immediately, unsure of how this was going to play out. Those damned butterflies were going crazy in my belly again under the weight of his stare and I couldn’t resist the need to look away, finding a particularly interesting bit of carpet to the right instead.

“You were calling for me. I was concerned that your former lover was back causing trouble, but imagine my delight at walking in on such a beautiful sight,” he sighed, head tilting with a little grin, “I also couldn’t help but notice that I seemed to be the cause of your desires.”

A small part of my pride still felt disgruntled by the shock but overall I was stunned by his admission. He liked that he walked in on that? He called it beautiful… Oh fuck. Swallowing thickly, I tilted my head back and met his gaze nervously. There was a flash of fang as his grin widened into a sly smirk and I instantly felt my pussy throb in need; To have those teeth around my throat, in my skin, god what I’d do.

“You seem to be having some trouble there, darling. Would you be oh so kind and allow me to help you?” he purred, a low growl rumbling in his chest when he stepped closer.

I couldn’t manage a verbal response so instead, I nodded, probably a little too emphatically if his snicker was telling. Any embarrassment I felt evaporated the moment his hand cupped my jaw. I was so keyed up and touch starved that just that action caused my thighs to clench shut. His skin was cool against mine but not uncomfortably so. There was a small bit of callus on his thumb as it rubbed across my face and the texture sent shivers down my spine.

Suddenly his other hand came up and quickly tangled in my locks, jerking my head back as his other hand slid around my throat.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, “Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?”

Gulping, I nodded and managed to whisper, “I trust you. I know you won’t be like him.”

I didn’t even need to say the name. There had been an awkward discussion a few weeks back about what had actually gone down between my ex and I, without all the intimate details of course. The implication of what my ex had done now hung heavy in the air between us, thick and harsh, and I worried for a moment that I’d ruined the mood. His sharp sigh was the only warning I got before suddenly his mouth was on mine. I wasn’t even given time to respond before he pulled away just as quickly.

“This will be like nothing you’ve ever experienced, darling. I am nothing like anyone you’ve ever known. There are things about me that no human could compare to.”

As if offering an example, the tendril around my thigh slowly moved its way further up my thigh until it was mere centimeters from my aching core. It made my heart race but more than anything I just wanted him to continue.

“Even so, there will never be a moment that your consent will be in question, do you understand that? Sex is meant to be enjoyable for everyone involved. Even a demon like me lives by that principle,” he explained, “As such, I’ve grown rather fond of having you around these past few months and I’d rather not scare you off now. So if there is something I do that you’re not comfortable with, you will tell me.”

“Y-Yes,” I agreed softly.

There was that domineering attitude again. Not that I minded in any sense. It just added another layer to the safety I felt around him. Hell, I wanted him to be in control. It made things so much easier when I didn’t have to second guess if I was doing the right thing or if I was going to regret it.

“Now, lay back and continue while I get undressed,” he demanded huskily.

A little niggle of anxiety wormed its way through the comfortable haze around my mind when he pulled back and stared me down, but I shoved it away with a calming breath. I could do this. After steeling my nerves, I reached up and pulled off my nightshirt, tossing it to the floor and leaving my body completely bare- save for the teasing tendrils still wrapped around my legs like a wicked kind of ribbon.

Thankfully he started moving in suit, making me feel more at ease and less scrutinized. With a pillow propped under my head, I snagged the vibrator again and started it back up. It felt strange to indulge myself with the man of my desires mere feet away but there was also a strange sort of thrill to it. There was also the undeniable boost of confidence, the fact that a powerful demon wanted to see me; hell, that he wanted me at all!

I was slowly getting back into the rhythm when I became distracted by the sound of cloth dropping. When I looked back up, he was completely shirtless, suit jacket, shirt, and tie across the room on my dresser. He was already working on his slacks when our eyes met. Nervously my gaze dropped back down only to get enraptured by the sight of his pants opening. God, he had nice hands; big, veiny, strong.

With a shake of my head, I cleared my thoughts and solely focused on the vision before me. He took his time, inching his slacks down teasingly until his cock bobbed free. With a snap of his fingers, his pants were suddenly across the room with the rest of his clothes.

“Keep going,” he demanded.

I realized, with much chagrin, that I had completely stopped using the vibrator in lieu of watching him. I managed a soft apology before bringing the toy back to my clit. My eyes shut instinctively under the waves of pleasure that buzzed through my limbs, only to open once more in shock as I felt the smoky appendages on my thighs moving once more.

They moved slowly as if giving me time to rebuke their advances but eventually joined my hand between my thighs. They were neither warm nor cold, just about the same temperature as my body as they gently prodded between my lips.

My eyes sought out Dark once more only to be graced by the most stunning sight, the statuesque demon shamelessly stroking his cock slowly.

“O-Oh fuck!”

He smirked but didn’t say a word in reply, instead letting a little grunt fall from his lips.

Oh and how delicious it sounded. I couldn’t help the little whimper than escaped in return as the tendrils thrust in. It was both strange and enthralling, having something that should not exist touching me in such a private way. They moved much more dexterously than fingers, quick and flexible that more mimicked a tongue. It didn’t take long for him to find that erogenous patch of nerves deep in my core and set on a full assault.

“D-Dark, please!” I gasped needily.

“Tell me what you want,” he ordered stiffly, slowly making his way toward the edge of the bed.

He was devastatingly gorgeous. Just the sight of his toned, naked body nearly sent me over. My fingers trembled in their hold of the vibrator when I finally caught sight of his bare cock, hard, thick, and standing centered perfectly between that drool-worthy adonis belt. As if sensing my faltering, he sped up the thrusts with a smirk.

“Fuck me!”

There was that arrogant chuckle again, “If you insist.”

The bed dipped by my feet and instinctively I threw the vibrator across the bed, spreading my legs as I heard the telltale thunk of the plastic hitting the floor. Cool hands ran up my calves and around my thighs before resting on my waist as he came to rest in place over me. I couldn’t hold back a whimper as I felt warm drops of his precum pool on my belly as he leaned in and kissed me hard. The sensation of his velvety smooth head rubbing against my stomach did awful things to the desire eating me up inside.

Thankfully he appeared to be affected just as much because it wasn’t long before he reached between us to situate his tip between my lips. Oh so devastatingly slowly he worked his way in, every inch better than the last.

“Ahhhha, god damn,” I gasped, fingers clutching at his solid forearms in search of stability.

It had been so long. So fucking long. Not to mention, the size difference between him and any other man I’d slept with was astronomical. Part of me basked in the care he was taking not to injure me, but the other part of me just wanted him to get it over with and fuck me into oblivion, no matter the consequences. Not that I could get the words out to ask for it; Struck dumb and useless by the overwhelming satisfaction wreaking havoc with my senses. After what seemed like forever, his hips finally came flush to mine and I was finally able to force my eyes open.

“Hello, darling,” Dark purred.

Goosebumps prickled every inch of my skin and my stomach flipped in shock at the depth his voice reached, the echoes mimicked by an ethereal blue and red glow pulsing around him. It only served to remind me that there was so much about him- and his kind- that I knew nothing about. How much power and ability he had hidden in the most beautiful body.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I gasped without much thought.

There was a twinge of confusion across his face for only a moment before he leaned back in and stole a brutal kiss. My lips ached under the pressure but I didn’t dare complain as his taste infiltrated my senses. Just as I was starting to run out of air, he pulled away and let out a huff of a laugh.

“You are, by far, the most curious and provocative human I’ve ever met,” he muttered.

In the next movement, quicker than I could fully comprehend, he had my legs jerked upon his shoulders and his hands on my hips. It was debilitating, the sudden change in position, and how perfectly full it left me. I wasn’t given long to marvel over it before his nails were biting into my skin, holding me still when his hips began slamming into mine. Hard. Demanding. Dominating. Every thrust burned his control into my mind like a branding.

It was almost too much of a good thing, so much raw energy, and emotion bouncing around like lightening in my veins. I couldn’t- wouldn’t- stop it though. My skin felt on fire and my cunt abused, and yet I had never felt anything so paradisiacal.

“Open your eyes. Let me see you,” Dark snapped suddenly.

The sight above me was one I’d give anything to see again and again for the rest of my life: his monochrome skin bathed in those celestial lights, the flex of his trim muscles with each thrust, the peek of fangs with every grunt and groan he unleashed. I felt a wave of indescribable emotion twitch in my heart when our eyes locked, and had to look away instantly.

“No, no, darling,” he grunted huskily, “Don’t shy away. The expression in your eyes is absolutely delicious. I want to see you, need you to see me, when I make you come.”

God, the way his voice reverberated in my head made everything else slip away. It was so easy to just listen to him. Meeting his gaze once more, I was blessed with the sight of pure adoration.

“There we go. Good girl.”

A zing of pleasure shot down my spine at the little admission of praise and tore a whimper from my lips.

“Now, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

He paused until I finally realized he wanted some sort of response.

“Y-Yes, fuck, of course. A-a-anything,” I moaned, ankles framing his neck as he gave a rough thrust of his hips.

Another smirk graced his lips when he said, “Come for me. Let me hear you say my name again so sweetly.”

Cheeks flushing, I managed a half-assed nod before my world went into chaos with a brush of my clit. It took a good few moments before I realized it had to be one of his shadows since both of his hands were bruising on my hips. That realization mixed with every little movement culminated into the start of an earth-shattering end. It was so hard to keep my eyes open under the building waves assaulting my core. I needed to though. If not for his satisfaction, then to see the way his face contorted in bliss. It was captivating and there was a sense of contentment that came with knowing he was feeling even a modicum of the pleasure he caused.

The brush of the tendril solidified into a movement almost tongue like at the same time that his hands moved from my hips. I nearly whined at the loss of his hold only to be placated by his grip resurfacing under my knees. Without warning, he suddenly sent my legs back towards me, holding them spread as he leaned over me and took up a brutal pace. It wasn’t but moments later that everything snapped.

I couldn’t hold back the scream that tore up my throat as my world shattered. Shocks of whites danced behind my lids with every pulse of bliss that rang through my core, radiating from my head to my toes behind every thrust of his hips. In a moment of weakness, I blindly reached for and snagged his hair, jerking on the silky locks needily.

“Pl- Fuck, god, Dark, please, wanna feel you bite me!”

His response was in a language that was both terrifying and beautiful, resonating in my chest heavily until he finally dropped my legs and leaned down over me. His scent was overwhelming as he surrounded me in nearly every sense. I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in his neck and breathe it in but I was quickly reminded of my more pressing desires the moment his lips brushed my neck.

“I need to know where you’d like me to come first, darling. Wherever you want,” he moaned, voice catching near the end.

The rumble of his voice sent my thoughts scattering once more with another wave of pleasure washing through my body, but I managed to focus enough to stammer out, “I-In me. I’m on the sh-sh- fuck!”

My words were cut off by blinding pain. It almost felt as if his teeth broke the skin, a throbbing burn emanating from the bite, but it was quickly encompassed by bliss. I felt my eyes rolling back as his husky moan reverberated against my throat and he buried his cock deep in my core with a final thrust. The aftershocks of his cock throbbing had me quivering weakly but I fought through the mind-numbing bliss and fulfilled the last of my thirst, brushing my nose against his cheek and soaking in the scent of his woodsy cologne and natural musk.

Laying under him, though uncomfortably hot, was the best feeling; The sensation of his strong body mimicking the comfort of a weighted blanket.

“That was… Dark, I don’t even have words,” I whispered finally.

With careful movements, he slowly pulled back until our eyes could comfortably meet and I realized belatedly that I still had a steely grip on his hair, releasing it with a nervous giggle.

“No regrets, then?” he asked, obviously amused.

I shook my head as I bit my lower lip before offering him a little smile.

“The only regret would be if it was a one-time thing,” I admitted softly.

His eyebrow twitched up and said, “Not at all, darling. I’ve been patient for so long, waiting for the right moment to claim you. The only thing that could keep me from you is you yourself.”

#Patience is key #darkiplier/reader #chapter two #smut #biting #dom/sub #kind of tentacles but not really #demon dark

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romancing-lady-whistledown · 4 years

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Just wanted to comment on your last post - there was no frustration and drama for me when I was watching Elu and Skam and Skam France before I made the huge error of looking for the fandom and joining it. Now I realise it was a big mistake, I have to constantly block people on Tweeter for hating on my faves and I've come to really hate another remake which I only didn't care about before having to deal with its stans. So I totally understand what you're saying. Me, I wish I'd never joined.

So this got long af so I’m gonna put it under the cut lol

Oh I absolutely feel you, when I say frustration and drama, I am refering to the live-watching experience and all the fandom drama that comes with that. I have a very polarizing feeling about being in the online fandom personally. For me the positive aspects have been so big that I can’t say that I wish I’d never joined personally, but especially if the positive aspects I’ve experienced haven’t been part of your fandom-experience I definitely see how you can get to the point where you wish you never joined in the first place, especially in the past year, because the negative aspects...they’re rough, and they do make the experience of the actual show different from if you just watched it on your own or you watched it as a casual viewer in the country it’s airing in, rather than as a part of the fandom on Tumblr and/or Twitter.

I watched the original Skam as a casual Norwegian viewer, I was in a Facebook-group with other casual Norwegian viewers, there was never any drama about anything, not the clips, not the characters, not the actors and not the creators of the show. It was just watching the clips, often someone commenting about how the clip was cute, funny, sad ect, and then everybody moved on with their day. There would sometimes be a thread with questions like “Where do you think William is?” or “What do you think is up with Even?”, but it was always very casual. Sometimes I think the online fandom forget that the majority of the remake-viewers are the casual local viewers, the ones who only casually watch that one remake as a show on it’s own, not as a part of the “Skamverse”. The international Twitter/Tumblr-fandom is just a little part of the people watching the show and the opinions we see here don’t necessairily reflect those of the more casual audience (as one can often see in for example reaction-videos on Youtube where the reactors watch alot of shows at the same time and might not even blink at something that might’ve been a big deal in the online fandom).

Being a casual viewer worked so well for me with Skam, the whole viewing experience was very chill and enjoyable. I did the same thing with Skam France S1 and S2, I watched the first episode of every remake, and Skam France was the only one I felt compelled to continue watching. It wasn’t the most exciting experience plotwise since it was just the exact same as the og, but I love the cast, I love the French language and it was overall pleasant and fun enough that I kept watching both seasons all the way through. As someone who has no attention span for TV-shows, the fact that they did keep my attention without anyone to push me to keep watching is enough for me to not concider them bad in the way alot of people do. Not very exciting after having watched the og, sure. Do I prefer the og S1 and S2? Yes. But bad? I personally wouldn’t say that. If I came into the fandom before I started watching on my own I know I would’ve been told to either skip S1 and S2 or skip Skam France altogether, and that obviously wouldn’t have been very good advice in my case, although it might be for someone else. That is why, when someone shows up on Tumblr saying they wanna start watching the remakes and ask for advice, I never ever tell them not to watch a remake. I could be robbing them of something that might deeply touch them, just because it didn’t touch me.

This brings us into one of the aspects of being in the online fandom that can be both really positive and really negative, that being the way it can affect your experience of the show itself. On the positive note, there’s no way I could’ve gone through Skam France S3 in the casual way I went through the original Skam or S1 and S2 of Skamfr. No way. Having someone to talk to about all the amazing moments with was an actual need for me. Hell, two years later and I still need that. Not to mention the fan art and fics that has kept Elu alive for me ever since S3. There was this whole detective-work in the fandom about finding Eliott’s Instagram during S3, finding out about the Instagram-posts David and Niels made about the S3 clips, being in the online fandom actually added to the experience of watching S3 for me, and even now almost two years after S3 I’m left with some actual friends, friends that aren’t even in the fandom anymore but who I still talk to almost daily, as well as some lovely bloggers who are still invlolved in the fandom and who’s blogs I prefer to visit rather than visiting the tag.

But then there’s the negative side of this. While being in the online fandom certainly can add to the experience, it can also affect it negatively. That was what happened with S5 and S6 for me, to the point where I had to switch between staying completely off Tumblr and delete the Twitter app from my phone. While S5 had a couple of plotlines I didn’t like, it also had alot of amazing moments when it actually was dealing with the main theme of the season. S6 did not give their plotlines the proper exploration and conclusion they deserved, but on the other hand the reason why that was so frustrating to me was because I found those plotlines so interesting and actually wanted to see them explored properly. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have cared if the plotlines were dropped out of nowhere, like ofc it would’ve been weird but if the whole Tiff-plot suddenly disappeared I wouldn’t complain. While they were flawed and nowhere near the level of S3 for me, I did enjoy so many of the clips and Skamfr S3, S5 and S6 are the only remake-seasons I have downloaded on my computer knowing I will rewatch them regularily. If I didn’t overall enjoy them, I wouldn’t wanna rewatch them. I don’t hate-watch anything. I could barely get through Skamfr S4 (a season I genuinely didn’t like) and I could not get through Wtfock S4, (which I liked even less). So the flaws Skamfr S5 and S6 had didn’t turn the seasons as a whole into trash for me, but I know they did for alot of people and going to the tags while in the middle of the live-watching experience couldn’t just be a bummer, it could almost transfer some feelings and opinions that weren’t my own onto me just from seeing them repeated so many times. I appreciate nuanced discussion, which does include constructive criticism, and there was alot of that too, but there were also alot of posts that I would not concider that. In this case, when I got some time and distance away from the live-watching experience and got the space to think for myself, I realized that as often is the case, my feelings about the seasons weren’t black and white, or in this case, masterpiece vs trash. Yes, I don’t like certain plotpoints (like the love triangle and car-scene from S5 or the Tiff-plot and the overly rushed conclusions to the otherwise interesting plotlines in S6), but that doesn’t mean that I personally think S5 or S6 as a whole are trash, not when the good episodes and clips were as good as they were to me personally. The online fandom experience has also, just like for you, completely turned me off from another remake that I otherwise felt neutral about and at one point even liked, which really is a shame.

So yeah this turned into a long ass essay just to say, the online fandom-experience is a true mixed bag for me. Although the positive experiences I’m taking from it, mainly the lovely and talented people, the friends I made and the full Skam France S3 experience, ultimately made it worth it for me, I can totally see how, especially if you didn’t have those experiences, you would simply wish you never joined. When it’s a pain, it’s a pain.

#ask #skam france #skamfr

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golden-deer-dear · 5 years

Text

How to Say ‘I Love You’ When the Word is Not Enough, Claude x Byleth Fluff Fic (art inspired)

Summary: Claude never had someone touch him before with any sort of affection, so when Byleth does just that, it is a completely new experience for him. Or, five times Claude is touch starved, and one time Byleth returns the sentiment.

Notes: Does anyone remember the 5 times (sometimes +1) fics that were really popular years ago? I miss those. Let's bring those back.

Anyways, this entire fic is a gift to @julls because their art gives me life. Hope you like it!

Scene 1 Scene 2 Scene 3 Scene 4 Scene 5 Scene 6

How to Say ‘I Love You’ When the Word is Not Enough

Their first kiss was honey on a sore throat. It soothed a pain Claude had long tried to hide. But there in her arms, with every ounce of love he was capable of being poured onto her soft lips, it was as if a dam burst inside his soul. He wanted her close, wanted to hold her in his arms forever, and just feel her warmth against him.

It was amazing, strange and overwhelming, something his brain raced to process. Claude had never held anyone like this before. He honestly could not remember anyone ever touching him with any sort of affection at a previous point in his life, save for when his mother touched his cheek and told him to watch his back before he left for Fódlan. This was different. This was something that did not fit into any scheme, but this was Teach after all. She had a habit of throwing him off kilter.

And it all hurt so much because he knew he would have to let her go. Byleth would leave the warmth of his embrace and go rule a newly united Fódlan. He would have to leave the softness of her lips to return to Almyra and deal with the crown. Even with her lips still on his, the thought made Claude’s heart ache so much for a brief moment he considered forgetting his plans altogether.

They broke apart just long enough to catch their breath, lips lingering close to one another. Claude knew he should go, but he wasn’t strong enough. He craved her touch as if it gave him life itself. And so he dove back in.

This kiss was not as frantic as their first, but no less desperate. Claude’s fingers curled against her back, one hand upon her waist, the other caress the line of her shoulder blade, as he tried to bring her closer despite their bodies already being flush against one another. He felt Byleth’s arm move, her sword calloused fingers brushing against his neck as she reached for his hair, ideally flipping the ends of the soft strains between those talented fingers.

Claude cursed inside his own head, again unsure how to process such a small gesture with so much weight behind it. Stars above and earth below, but he loved her so much his heart hurt.

He pulled back, forcing himself not to rest his forehead against hers. He would never be able to leave at this rate. Instead, he settled for a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling with joy when it was returned. Byleth’s cheeks were dusted pink, her lips sweetly kiss bruised. She was everything he wanted, and so much more than he deserved.

“I never thought I could love someone so much that not being close to you tears my heart apart,” Claude whispered, stopping just short of leaning in for another kiss.

Byleth’s face creased in confusion. “I’m not sure how we could be much closer right now.”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways.” Claude laughed at his own joke, a slightly strangled quality to the sound, raising his brows a few times even as Byleth rolled her eyes at him. He was a moron. Best not to think of that right now. It was extremely dangerous territory. He really would never leave if they gave in and were intimate right now. “But we only have a few minutes. And thinking about not being near you, of being unable to hold you like this…” He trailed off in his explanation, unable to describe the ache in his chest.

Byleth stood on tiptoe to kiss him again, quick and reassuring, too fast for him to drown in her again. “Then don’t think about it,” she said as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Not for the few minutes we have. And after that, just think of what it will feel like when I get to hold you like this again.”

Claude pulled her as close as he could, burying his face against her neck. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

A few more minutes he would gladly indulge in.

And after that, a lifetime.

“Take this to Shamir. She’ll know what to do with it,” Byleth ordered. The soldier nodded and turned on her heel, leaving the room quickly to fulfill his orders.

And that left them alone. Claude flipped his quill back and forth between two fingers, uncaring of the ink he was splattering onto his desk. He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to resist the sight of his wife dressed in light cotton, her black shirt hanging off her shoulders and hugging every curve. The sun shone on her through the large windows, creating a lovely picture that reminded Claude just why he liked summer so much. But no, in this case he was weak, and he very much wanted his arms around her.

Claude pushed his chair back, standing and rapidly crossing the room to his wife’s side. Byleth blinked at him, her mouth opened to ask a question, only for it to turn into a laugh as Claude slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

“Claude, we still have work to do,” Byleth pointed out even as she relaxed against him.

Claude hummed softly, nuzzling against her cheek. “We can take a quick break.”

“Claude, your stubble tickles,” Byleth chastised, her voice so light Claude could easily picture the mirth in her eyes.

“Does it?” Claude practically purred. Byleth stiffened in his arms briefly, hearing the hint of a scheme forming in Claude’s own laughing tone. But she did not fight as he walked them backwards to a lounge, sinking onto it while pulling Byleth down with him. He curled around her like a cat, arms still slung over her shoulders and legs propped up around her, as he settled them comfortably against the plush cushions.

He nuzzled at her cheek again, rubbing more of his beard against her cheek. “How about that then?”

Byleth squirmed in Claude’s grasp, trying to turn in his arms so she could face him. Claude held her in place, not even close to done with his teasing. He moved down, rubbing against her neck and shoulders. His fingers played at her sides, causing Byleth to let loose a squeak as she squirmed harder. Claude grinned widely, loving that he had pulled that sound from her. He was certain he was the only one who knew Byleth was ticklish, and it was a secret he guarded jealously.

“Claude!” Byleth laughed, that light carefree sound she made more and more often whenever she was alone with him. “Stop!”

He gave one more last nuzzle against her cheek, smirking as she shuddered in his arms. “If I must,” Claude pouted.

Byleth was finally able to turn in his embrace, placing a quick kiss against his lips to steal away his frown. “Now, about this break…” Byleth trailed off, cuddling against Claude’s chest as she closed her eyes. “It sounds like a good idea.”

“Those are the only kinds of ideas I have, my love,” Claude pointed out before kissing the top of her head.

“Shhh.” Byleth lifted her hand to place a finger against his lips. “Nap now.”

Getting a moment to hold her uninterrupted? Yeah, there was no way he was going to argue with that. She was beside him, resting against his chest, making his heart light and his thoughts carefree.

Claude reluctantly lifted his head from his place between his wife’s legs, smirking at the noise of annoyance she made as he left. But he was certain he had heard something else beside his wife’s moans as he pleasured her with his tongue.

Byleth glared up at him, but Claude tilted his head to the side, listening once more for the voices he heard before. Sure enough, coming closer to them were five...no, make that six knights if he was reading the sounds of their shoes crunching against the gravel pathway correctly. He picked out Cathrine’s voice, although that wasn’t too hard since she was louder than the rest of them put together. Thankfully they were hidden by a row of rose bushes. So long as they were quiet, no one would even know they were here.

He knew the moment Byleth heard them as well by the way her eyes widened. She stared up at him with a spark of horror. It was one thing for everyone to know the new king and queen enjoyed a healthy sex life, but it was another thing altogether to be caught in the act itself. Especially if Cathrine was the one to do the catching. And oh, there rose another voice that made the situation so much worse.

Seteth.

Honestly, Claude did not really care if they were caught or not. He would laugh off Seteth outraged lecture, stealing Byleth away to finish up what they started. Byleth, however, would not enjoy it. She would not be mortified by any means, Byleth didn’t do mortified, but she would be upset. She had grown so much since coming to the monastery, more so after their marriage. He loved being able to read her, but would hate to see her truly upset. Better just to avoid it overall.

But on the other hand…

Claude missed the feel of her. Byleth was lying on the garden grass beneath him, her legs on either side of him, but not touching him. He wanted her, needed her like he needed air in his lungs. He couldn’t help himself.

Byleth’s eyes grew a fraction wider as Claude gripped her leg, but she offered no resistance as he guided her limb up. He hooked her knee over his shoulder, eyes greedily taking in the display before him.

Claude raised a finger to his lips, eyes glittering with mischief. “Shh,” he whispered. Oh yes, this was much more enjoyable than simply waiting for the others to pass.

Byleth slapped a hand over her mouth, trying to regulate her breathing as Claude lined himself up with her. Her eyes fell shut, her head tipping back as her back arched, when Claude slowly pushed himself into her. He bit his lip to stifle his own moan, but found it quite easy to keep quiet. If he was loud now their fun would end.

For her part, Byleth brought her other hand to her mouth as well, using both to cover the sounds that were desperate to escape from her. Claude really wasn’t helping when he pulled out only to slowly thrust into her again. He could feel her foot move against his back, flexing as he moved within her, channeling the expressions she could not currently put into words.

Claude bent forward, placing both hands on either side of Byleth’s head. The motion forced Byleth’s leg further up, causing Claude to thrust into her at a different angle. Byleth shuddered beneath him, her moans audible even through the hands still covering her mouth. She squeezed him as if she never wanted their bodies to be parted. Claude fell forward, burying his face against her neck, busying his lips with kisses along her skin to distract himself from the sounds fighting to escape from his own throat.

And then Byleth’s body went taut. Her hands dropped away as a heavy sigh went through her, unable to hide the noise from the world. Thankfully, Cathrine choose that moment to laugh at something one of the other knights said, completely covering any noise Byleth made. Claude held himself still, one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do, as Byleth unraveled around him. He watched as she came down, joy shooting into his heart like an arrow as she instinctively reached out for him.

The sound of gravel crunching from the other side of the rose bushes alerted Claude that the knights were finally moving on, none the wiser to their rulers’ presence.

Or so he thought until someone cleared her throat right next to them. “Might want to wrap it up,” Shamir said softly. “Seteth is looking for the two of you.”

Claude shared a look with Byleth, who blinked up at him. He couldn’t help it. He laughed loudly, wrapping himself around Byleth until she joined him.

“Stars above,” he whispered in her ear, “I love you.”

“Byleth!”

His wife stopped and turned, a smile more radiant than the sun gracing her lips when she saw him coming toward her. There was so much love in Byleth’s eyes Claude wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it all except try and love her back just as much.

Byleth waited for him, leaning into his side as Claude threw an arm around her shoulders. “Care to join me for a cozy morning stroll?” she asked.

“I cannot think of anything I want to do more.”

“Oh?” she said in a teasing tone Claude recognized all too well. It was the same tone he used when he was about to tease her. “Are you sure? We are headed toward the gardens after all.”

Claude quirked an eyebrow even as he smirked at her. “Was that an invite?”

Pink sprang up in Byleth’s cheeks as Claude pressed himself closer, but she held his gaze without issue. “Unfortunately I’m expected at a meeting with Seteth and Judith soon. But I have enough time that I don’t have to hurry, so long as I am actually headed that way,” she was quick to add the last part when Claude’s tongue poked out to lick his lips, mischief flashing in his eyes.

“Ah well, an actual stroll is enjoyable too.”

Byleth smile was small and barely there. Those who were not close to her probably wouldn’t even notice it. But her eyes, those beautiful mint green eyes, shone. She looked at him, and Claude could swear he saw stars, even though the sun was already blazing summer heat into the early morning. She kept herself at his side, craving his touch as much as he craved hers.

It had taken Claude a while to understand that Byleth loved him as much as he loved her. It wasn’t that he doubted her. He just found it difficult to wrap his head around the idea that someone cared for him that much. Byleth wanted him near, did not find it at all annoying when he clung to her. She clung to him just as much. Somewhere, somehow, Claude had come to accept that Byleth had helped him find his heart.

The crest stone inside Byleth’s chest may have kept her heart from beating, but Claude knew how much love she was capable of. It was what made his own beat to her steady rhythm.

Their breathing echoed off the walls of their bedroom, heavy after their recent activities. Claude’s hand curled over the top of Byleth’s head, tangling his fingers in her hair. “I always forget how small you are,” Claude murmured as he leaned over his wife, his bare chest brushing against her own.

Byleth laid a hand over his heart, the metal of her engagement ring cool upon his hot flesh. She tilted her head up, lips begging for a kiss. She hummed a non committal sound as she opened her mouth. It was a lazy motion, made without any thought other than a desire for her lover.

Claude could not deny her, knew he would never be able to do so, and accepted it gladly. He leaned in for the kiss Byleth was so eagerly asking for, teeth nibbling at her lower lip. Byleth hummed again against his lips, expressing her approval as she always did through little sounds that were for his ears alone.

She was smiling at him when he pulled away, staying close enough that their lips still brushed each other when she spoke, her top lip catching against his. “What was that about me being small?”

“You are small,” Claude repeated. “My small, precious wife. Light of my life and goddess of my heart.”

“You don’t believe in the goddess,” Byleth pointed out. She raised one finger to caress against his neck, the softest of touches to a spot she knew made him shiver. He could not help the reaction that ran through his body at that simple touch. She knew exactly how to play him.

“But I believe in you,” Claude answered, nipping at her lips again.

Her smile grew, her eyes still hazy with the afterglow of her orgasm. “Oooh, good answer, lover boy.” Byleth’s finger twitched against his Adam’s apple, forcing another shiver through Claude’s body.

She was certainly proud of herself for that one, if the laughter in her eyes was anything to go by. He loved that look on her, that unbridled joy she no longer hid behind a stoic mask. And he was the one who put it there. This was happiness, laying here with the woman he loved, her body pressed close to him, as they lingered in the afterglow of their lovemaking. How did one simple word manage to capture all that he was feeling in his heart?

“You’ve become quite expressive, haven’t you?” he whispered, his nose brushing against hers. He did it again a couple more times, knowing that it was a super cheesy move, and not really caring. It just felt good to touch and explore all of her.

Byleth blinked, the smile disappearing for a moment as she thought over Claude’s words. “I suppose I have. You taught me how to feel after all.”

Claude’s world came to a screeching halt. That was certainly more of an answer than he was expecting. It was too much. He flopped on his side, keeping himself pressed against Byleth as much as possible while removing his body weight before he could crush her, and buried his face against her neck.

“Are you blushing?” Byleth asked, although he was certain he could feel how hot his face was against her shoulder. She turned her head, kissing the top of his head with a smile on her lips.

“Leave me alone,” Claude mumbled even as he nuzzled against her neck, trying to hide himself more.

“Never,” Byleth promised.

And Claude, the very embodiment of mistrust, believed her.

Byleth threw a pair of socks at her husband, watching as he blinked up at her in surprise. “What are these for?”

“The floor is cold,” Byleth said simply. “I know you hate the cold.”

On their rare day off, Byleth had taken a nap, only to wake up to quite a shock when her feet hit the floor. A cold front had swept in, the first hint of autumn, making the stone tiles of the monastery chill to the touch. And there was Claude, sitting upon a lounge on the opposite side of the room, surrounded by puffy pillows as he read (it had better not be reports, not on their day off, or else there would be a talk later). He was wearing a simple shirt and pants, the shirt cut with a deep v to reveal his chest. But his feet were bare. He would be upset when he stood up and made the same discovery she had.

Claude blinked again before a smile crossed his face. He set aside his book and picked up the socks, slipping them on and wiggling his toes at her. “Thanks, By.”

He blinked again, the smile fading as Byleth continued to stare at him. “By? You okay?”

“You think there’s enough room on there for me too?” she asked. Of course there was, they had sat together on that lounge hundreds of times before.

But Claude knew what she was really asking. His smile returned as he spread his legs wider, opening his arms in invitation. “For you, always.”

Byleth happily slid onto Claude’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck as she laid her head on top of his. Claude helped her pull her legs up, one hand staying upon her thigh as she relaxed against him. His other arm wrapped around her waist, fingers tapping against her hip.

Yes, this, this was what she wanted. Every time Claude held her she knew, without him having to say a word, how much he loved her. He’d told her before how much she affected his heart, usually stumbling over the lines or blushing profusely afterwards, but he at least managed to put those feelings into words.

She always struggled with that. Sometimes she could answer him with her own feelings, but starting the conversation herself was difficult. So she clung to him, hoping every emotion she felt could be conveyed through contact.

How did she tell him? How did she tell him how grateful she was that he was always on her side? That he believed in her even when others did not? He made her heart feel like it could skip a beat it did not take whenever he stole away her breath. He was her grounding force, as much as she was the stars in the sky for him. She ached when he was away. She ached when he was near, in a completely different way. Both ways were confusing, but nothing she would ever willingly give up.

“Claude,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his hair and breathing deeply the scent of pine and cinnamon. “Your embrace soothes my soul.”

She could picture Claude blinking his surprise again as a moment of silence passed. “Wow By, that was really elegant.”

“Oh hush,” Byleth chastised without putting any force behind her words. Heat rushed to her face, and she knew her cheeks were the deep red that Claude enjoyed seeing so much. “I love you.”

“I love you too, By,” Claude answered easily. He tilted his head back, begging for a kiss which Byleth eagerly gave. It was short and sweet, the easiest way to convey love with more than the word that seemed so inadequate to capture everything he did to her heart.

But that was fine. Because Claude knew, and that was all that mattered. His touch made her heart feel whole.

Being wrapped in his embrace was all that she would ever need.

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

Personal headcanons that made an appearance if anyone is interested:

1. Byleth is ticklish, but doesn't realize it until the first time she's with her so. 2. Claude smells like pine needles and cinnamon because of the tea he drinks with Byleth. 3. Instead of swearing on the goddess, Claude says things like 'stars above' or other nature related curses.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claudeth #claude x byleth #claudeleth #bylaude #my fic #one shot #fluff #just a whole lot of fluff

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jeremys-blogs · 4 years

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The Owl House: Top 10 Episodes

The Owl House's first season was made up on nineteen great episodes, but as with any show there were some I loved more than others. And here's my top ten of them.

10 - Witches Before Wizards: The first episode might have done a great job of establishing both the main cast and the world they're having their stories in, but it was really the show's second outing that truly cemented that this wasn't going to be a typical children's fantasy tale. Luz, overwhelmed by her years of wanting the perfect escapist fantasy, is seemingly given exactly what she wants and, with her current mentor looking like something of a disappointment, goes along with it right into a trap. This episode's clear message is that, whatever ideas Luz and the audience have of epic adventures in other worlds needs to be jettisoned right here and now, as such thinking simply leads to those like Luz being taken advantage of. It also helped to establish Eda, both as an unconventional type of mentor, but also as someone who genuinely cares for Luz's well-being. It's a story that firmly tells us that, if good things are to happen to us, we need to make them happen instead of waiting for others to hand such things to us, and that even a place that comes off as creepy and horrifying can have its appeal when looked at the right way. A fine episode that does well at helping to acclimatise us to the world of the Boiling Isles.

9 - Something Ventured, Someone Framed: Gus didn't really have that many standout moments in the show in the same way that Willow did, but I can safely say that his first (and thus far only) spotlight episode was a good one. Most of the time he's used either as "the supportive friend" or as comic relief, but here we got to see other sides to him, like his insecurities at being the youngest among his peers, or the fears he feels over losing even the small position he has among them. It was also a good show of how Luz isn't the only one who's going to be causing problems at Hexside, as Gus was very much responsible for the shenanigans this time, but he does win points for taking the blame and accepting the consequences of it. Also, special mention must also go to Eda for her subplot of trying to get Luz into the school. It really went to show how much she cared for the girl, since she was willing to make nice with a place she personally loathed because she knew how good it would be for her apprentice. Between Gus and Eda, this was a good little Hexside story with some good development for its two prominent players.

8 - The Intruder: This episode marked an important moment of development for all three of the main characters. For Luz it was her first real step in learning how to use magic in this world, as well as showing just how quick she is to be able to use it in an immediate situation. For King we got to see a softer side to him than we'd been seeing up to this point, and just how much he values Luz as a friend and someone to teach. And for Eda, this was the moment we came to realise just why she's separate from the rest of the Boiling Isles' society. Her curse, which is portrayed in much the same way as something akin to a chronic illness that real-world people would have to deal with, is clearly a bother to her and something that would play a pivotal part of later stories. And the horror aesthetic is of course a good framing device for all of this, giving our characters a desperate situation to not only show of what they can do, but also reveal secrets like Eda's condition. It was a dark, intense and very character-driven story that served as a massive wake-up call to the fact that danger can very much be right at their doorstep in this series.

7 - I was a Teenage Abomination: Here we got our big introduction to Hexside, a location that would provide a great many other great stories and serve as an important place for Luz. In addition, the episode also gave us a number of supporting characters, like soon-to-be friends Willow and Gus, and perhaps one of the show's most complicated characters, Amity. Luz's first arrival onto the scene, both for this school and its students, would prove to be her first real impact on this world, which would of course have consequences aplenty further down the line. Now of course, schools for magic are no stranger to works of fantasy, but this show does well in making Hexside its own thing, with its own feel distinct from other such institutions in fiction. And of course we once again have Eda utterly stealing the show with her early-season disdain for the place and her horror at the thought of Luz wanting to go there, though she admittedly does at least soften to the friends she makes in her brief encounter. Overall, a fun and enjoyable introduction to one of the most important places in the show, as well as giving Luz her first taste of a place that would come to mean a great deal to her later on.

6 - Covention: Like with our introduction to Hexside, this episode gives us a lot of information about the world of the witches and how things typically work here. We're told of the coven system, the magical authority that governs magic, as well as why Eda specifically is opposed to them, but at the same time we have Luz, who despite respecting her teach is open-minded enough to want to learn more and make her own decision on the matter, which was a nice touch as far as I'm concerned as it showed she wasn't just blindly obedient. And speaking of Luz, we get her next step in her relationship to Amity here, as we once more have the two at odds, but with that conflict eventually changing into one where Amity understands Luz more and where we learn that there's more shades to Amity than simply being a school rival. Eda too gets growth as a character, as we have our big introduction to her sister and the knowledge that the two don't have the best of relationships, culminating in one of the show's thus-far best pieces of animation when the two eventually duel, which would of course serve only as a prelude to a fight that came later. Overall, Covention had a lot packed in, and it was executed nearly flawlessly.

5 - Adventures in the Elements: Fun fact, I'd sort of debated with myself over whether this or Lost in Language would be included here, since both episodes share a lot in common. Both feature Luz learning more while also taking action that puts her in a bad light with Amity and both heavily involve Edric and Emira. In the end though I decided that I enjoyed this one more, and what's more it served as another important milestone in Luz's education, since it's really the first time Eda actively goes out of her way to teach her about magic. Additionally, we get some hints as to the true nature of magic in this world, something that Luz comes to know more than even her own teacher. We get hints that Luz's ways are something that the oldest witches did back in the day but has since been forgotten, as Esa herself seems to only vaguely know how that ancient power was used. Also, it's another case of Amity warming up to Luz, to the point where I'd officially call this the moment where the two became friends. And of course Edric and Emira were far more hilarious and likeable here than they were in Lost in Language, so there's that too.

4 - Enchanting Grom Fright: Let me get the obvious stuff out of the way first. Yes, the Lumity shipping moments are adorable and a great milestone for Disney. And yes, that dance sequence was brilliantly animated and easily worth the thousand-plus times I've gone back and watched it. But as good as all that stuff is, what really makes this episode work for me is Luz. Not only do we get another example of her well-meaning nature getting her into trouble, which is something of a recurring theme in this show, but it's also the episode that really addresses her decision to leave her world and be in the Boiling Isles. Throughout the story she's shown to be worried about both her mother back home and what the latter might think if she knew what Luz had really been doing these past few weeks. It's an understandable fear that she's been avoiding for, quite possibly, the entirety of her time in the show, and by the time the episode ends she's fully accepted that she needs to speak to her mother far more than she'd been doing. That, alongside great stuff from other characters, Like Amity's own fears and King struggling to find an audience, made this episode a truly special watch for me.

3 - Wing it Like Witches: In terms of pure entertainment value, as in just sheer fun, this episode easily makes it to my personal top. However, given that the remaining episodes all did more in terms of character and story, I felt it wouldn't really be right to have this one be any higher. But, it's still a hugely enjoyable outing for the show, and one that I've re-watched several times over since it first aired. And it's surprising that that's the case, given that sports movies (or even parodies of them) aren't something I usually enjoy, and this episode has it as both its A and B plots. But I guess that's a testament to the episode if I managed to be delighted by the story in the face of that. The character of Boscha proved a good "love to hate" antagonist that Luz, Willow and Amity must overcome, and it's especially satisfying to finally see Amity in particular break away from that kind of toxic crowd for good. But, not one to be one-upped, Eda herself gets a similar trouble to face when she challenges her sister to the same game, and much like with Luz it's very good to see her come out on top. In terms of how much the characters are developed, this one probably isn't winning any awards, but in terms of just how much fun it was for me, it's easily one of the best The Owl House has to offer.

2 - Agony of a Witch: Disney have had plenty of moments where the episodes prior to the finale are among the darkest and most serious stuff they make, and Owl House, it appears, has one more to add to that collection. Agony is, without question, the most intense story of the entire first season. A darkest hour that I haven't seen from Disney TV for quite some time. It's a level of seriousness and danger that we all probably knew was coming, but likely weren't ready for when it finally came. Our main villain is revealed, the truth behind Eda's curse comes to light, and by the time it was all over it seemed as though all hope was lost. It was a real punch to the gut, and went to show just how much these characters had come to mean to me, given how distraught I felt at seeing them hurt like this. If I had one complaint, and this is no fault of this episode specifically, it's that the follow-up, the actual finale, never managed to capture the same feeling of intensity. But that's a very small criticism, and as I said, this was one hugely impressive episode that brought the stakes up to eleven and showed that this show had more than earned the right to do so.

1 - Understanding Willow: I'll admit upfront that I have some bias on this one, as Willow has consistently been one of my favourite characters in the show. So an episode devoted to delving into her backstory was pretty much guaranteed to get my interest. But credit where it's due, it actually impressed far more than just that initial hook, as we get our long-awaited explanation as to the reasons why she and Amity stopped being friends way back when, a point that was hinted at quite a few episodes back. It's one of those things I like about shows like this, where small bits of dialogue can come back and take centre stage in big ways like this. And of course, we have Luz coming into her own as the responsible one, taking charge and doing what she can for her friend. And it's great that this isn't a problem that she was directly responsible for, unless you count her flipping a photo over as her being the cause of all this. Amity gets plenty of growth as well as a truly gut-punching reveal as to what motivated her actions, and the remaining cast, like Eda and Gus, all have a pretty entertaining side-story of their own. All-in-all, this might seem like an odd choice, but to me Understanding Willow is just the complete package in terms of what I like about this show.

And that's my list. Hope you all enjoy these episodes as much as I do 🥰

#essay #writing #my stuff #disney #the owl house #luz noceda #top 10

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maybehesclawstrophobic · 5 years

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Red Ribbons

Summary: Marinette decides to wear Ladybug’s hairstyle for a day, Adrien can’t deal, and they both get too flustered to think properly.

AO3

There are few things more frustrating to a promising young designer than putting together the perfect outfit and then struggling to find a matching hairstyle. Unfortunately, this was exactly the predicament Marinette found herself in, all dolled up in a summery red dress, yet failing to come up with any deviation from her signature pigtails. Pacing across her room, the designer sighed in defeat.

It wasn’t her fault that pigtails were the superior hairstyle. After all, they were practical, cute, and fun to move around with. What else could a girl ask for?

Today, however, Marinette had wanted to do something special. Her class was visiting a festival in the park across from her school. There would be carnival games, food trucks, and a dance floor all set up for the public’s enjoyment.

All she wanted was to dress up nice and have a good time with her friends. It wasn’t as if she had spent over two months sewing up a new dress with this festival in mind. And it definitely wasn’t as if she had made that dress while thinking about a certain Adrien Agreste who would also be attending the festival.

“Marinette! If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going to wear a hole right through the carpet!” Tikki chimed in.

“I know, I know,” Marinette responded, “it’s just that I don’t know what to do with my hair. On one hand, I want to do something new for the festival, but on the other hand, you know how fond I am of pigtails.”

“What if you did both? You’ve always looked great in your Ladybug hairstyle, and public support of you and Chat Noir has made that look pretty popular. You could still wear it without risking your identity!” Tikki offered with a smile.

Marinette considered her options. She was running out of time to get ready, and tying red ribbons around two low ponytails would be quick and easy. It was also sure to match her outfit and flatter her style.

“Tikki, you’re a genius!” She decided, and tied up her hair with some leftover red fabric as she headed out the door.

To say Adrien was looking forward to the festival would be a gross understatement. He was absolutely thrilled. It wasn’t very often that he got to leave the house and go to fun events such as festivals, but the fact that this was technically a school trip had provided the perfect opportunity for him to let loose while staying within the bounds of parental permission.

He showed up a little later than the rest of his class, a situation highlighted by the Gorilla’s silent moping about Parisian traffic. Adrien left the car bustling with energy and excited to meet up with Nino, Alya, and Marinette, who were already there.

As he approached the booth they had agreed to meet up at, however, he was greeted by a sight that forced him to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

About five feet away from him was the distinct outline of Ladybug.

Her dark hair was still tied up in its signature red ribbons, but her suit had been replaced by a stunning red dress that seemed to move with the rays of the sun.

What was Ladybug doing at the festival?? And why wasn’t she in her suit?

As Adrien pondered that second question, he came to the startling realization that Ladybug was in fact detransformed and close enough that he could walk forward and touch her. This was exactly what he started to do. Almost out of their own volition, Adrien’s legs started moving the rest of his body closer and closer to his Lady in red. In a trance, he found himself drawn to her, despite the fact that he had no idea what he would say or do once he approached her.

“Dude! There you are! We were starting to worry about whether you’d be able to make it.” The voice of Nino rang out, interrupting Adrien’s thought spiral. As he took stock of his surroundings, he noticed that Alya and Nino were both right next to Ladybug, who was turning around . . .

“Marinette?!” Adrien exclaimed, breathless and confused.

Where Ladybug had stood less than two seconds ago, Marinette now stood, blushing and looking right at him.

“No! . . . I mean, yes! That I am-who am-I am her! Marinette Agr- I mean, Marinette Dupain-Bang! Wait, no, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is me. I am her!” The girl stammered as the red on her cheeks grew to match her outfit.

A gust of wind blew through the park, and Marinette’s dress flowed around her knees. Adrien couldn’t help but notice how well the soft red color complemented his friend. But then his eyes moved from her clothing up to her eyes, and he forgot all previous train of thought.

Her eyes were a startling blue, the type of blue Adrien often found himself lost in when casting longing looks at Ladybug.

Wait, Ladybug! There was something about Ladybug. Something important Adrien had just been thinking about. Something about her, and the festival, and Marinette, and . . .

“Woah there Agreste, are you good? Normally I’d be all for you checking out my girl here,” Alya teased with a wink, “but you’re looking pretty pale.”

Slowly blinking, Adrien took that moment to snap back into reality. Throwing on his best smile and putting his though spiral on hold, he responded, “I’m fine, Alya, really, don’t worry about it.”

Marinette, agreeing with Alya, asked him again, “I agree, you are very pretty-er, pretty pale that is! Are you sure you’re o-bae? I mean, okay?”

He tried to answer her, he really did, but the nagging feeling returned, and Adrien again found himself surrounded by fuzzy thoughts of Ladybug, and Ladybug’s eyes, and Marinette’s eyes, and the soft shade of red tinting Marinette’s flustered face, and the matching red ribbons that were tickling the back of Marinette’s neck.

Those ribbons! They were the same ones that Ladybug was wearing a few moments ago before she has disappeared and left Marinette in her place.

Adrien found himself remembering a similar instance where Ladybug had leapt onto a balcony, but when Chat went to talk to her, he found Marinette instead.

His thought process at the time of the incident started to intermingle with the blur his mind was currently going through.

Ladybug? Marinette? Ladybug and Marinette? Was Marinette a really good fan of Ladybug?

No, that wasn’t it, his mind persisted, although he was certain there wasn’t another explanation. What he was certain of, however, was that somehow his legs had again started to move until he was only a breath away from Marinette.

Their eyes locked, green on blue, and Adrien was struck with a new feeling, a premonition of danger. As he looked into Marinette’s eyes, he found himself hypnotized in their sky blue tones, desperately trying to remember the last part of their conversation before he did something stupid, before he did something weird, something like . . .

”Are you a cat? Because I want to cradle you.”

Marinette blinked, then paused, then blinked again. Wait, what? Are you a cat . . . Why did that sound so familiar?

Are you a cat? Because M’Lady, I sure do want to cradle you!

The memory bombarded Marinette before she was fully aware of what was going on. Chat Noir had used the exact same pick up line on her just two nights ago after defeating the day’s akuma.

The fact that Adrien was now using the same line could only lead to one conclusion.

Chat Noir . . . and Adrien . . . the two of them . . . both had to be using the same pick up line book!

And not only that, but Chat had lied about where he got all his lines from, saying something about how his puns are 100% original, just like my love for you, Buggaboo.

And yet here was Adrien, reciting the same over the top theatrics that Chat Noir was so proud to tout as his own creations.

A giggle escaped Marinette’s lips, and she dissolved into a fit of laughter so quickly that she didn’t notice the way Adrien’s shoulders relaxed as his eyes continued to watch her.

The entire situation was too much for Marinette to bear. For the briefest of moments, the boy standing in front of her had switched from an untouchable image of perfection to a dorky kid with the same awful sense of humor as her partner.

Maybe that was why Marinette, emboldened by a new wave of confidence she was sure would wear off soon, leaned in to whisper in Adrien’s ear,

“I may not be a cat, but don’t worry, I can still take kitty on a stray from time to time.”

Adrien’s entire face turned as red as the ribbons in her hair, and he stood there sputtering to come up with a response.

Marinette turned on her heel and booked it away from him to another section of the festival, partly because she wanted to have an exit and partly because she was worried what her brain would do once it caught up with her mouth and realized that she really did just say that to Adrien Agreste.

Sparing one glance over her shoulder, however, the stunned look on the boy’s face was enough to convince Marinette that overall this had been a win.

She later decided that she should try wearing red ribbons in her hair more often.

---------

Major thank you/shout out to @etiepe for reading this over for me and @lady-charinette for helping me brainstorm. Y’all are amazing!

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 4 years

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in too deep (part 3)- jules

jules x reader

warnings: language, anxiety, creepiness, some violence, homophobia, overall just weird vibes (if you’ve seen the movie you know what i’m talking about)

TW: MENTIONS OF NON-CON (please don’t read if you’re triggered by this!! this was the bit of the story i had to change for the story to make sense since i swapped mickey’s gender. it doesn’t actually happen, but if the threat triggers you, do NOT READ!!!)

notes: i’m gonna try and keep this one shorter bc writing long chapters stresses me out

also! i’m writing this based on a pdf of the original script for the movie, so some dialogue may be different, or it may be my own creation because believe it or not, there are times that i do in fact possess creativity!!

you woke up with a jolt, dreams of the strangest variety plaguing your subconscious. you reached up to touch your pounding head- well, at least you would’ve if it wasn’t restrained.

“what the hell?” you tugged on the handcuffs, quickly realizing your legs were tied down, too, rendering you completely immobile. upon discovering this, you began to panic, breaking out in a cold sweat as you called out for your security blanket. “jules! jules!”

“she’s not gonna hear you. she’s down in the basement with sweetiepie.” gloria said calmly as she entered the room.

not impressed with her answer, you questioned her. “what are you gonna do to her?”

“my, my. you asked about her safety before even questioning yours! the bond the two of you share must be stronger than i thought.” she mused, looking down at your panicked expression. “your belle is safe and sound, don’t worry. but if you want to see her again, you’re going to have to cooperate.”

“cooperate? what the fuck are you gonna do to me?” you wrenched at your restraints, your heart rate beginning to pick up sufficiently. you depended on jules more than any other person in your life, and without her, you began to quickly unravel.

“just sit tight, all will be revealed soon enough.” gloria stated with an eerie smile. you hated how calm she was, it made you feel like she knew something you didn’t. “would you like to see some photos of my son?”

was she serious? look at some photos of her son? all you wanted was their car! how did you end up in this mess? the sudden aggravation caused you to lose your composure.

“no, i don’t wanna see any pictures of your fucking son! i wanna get my girlfriend and that fucking kid and get the fuck out of here!” you screamed. “i wanna get the fuck away from you and your crazy ass husband! i wa-” your sudden outburst was cut off by a firm slap, giving you little time to react before gloria had you in a chokehold.

“you keep your damn mouth shut! you won’t refer to anyone in this family like that under my roof!” you spat in her face, taking in a wheezing breath as she let go of you to wipe her face. her sudden anger morphed into what you assumed was her signature brand of unnerving calmness.

“you wanted to know what i’m going to do to you? i’ll tell you.” she smiled creepily. “you see, george and i have wanted our own children for the longest time, but that’s just not what the good lord had planned for us. so think of yourself as a vessel for us. an oven for our bun, if you will.”

your jaw dropped, the color in your face draining as your eyes widened in shock. “fuck! what the fuck? that’s so fucking fucked up! you’re not gonna fucking touch me, you bitch!” you couldn’t catch your breath, your chest heaving with every intake of air.

gloria got up to leave, her long skirt spinning with a flourish as she made her way to the bedroom door. “d-don’t f-fucking leave,” you wheezed as she exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

“jules!” you shouted. “jules, please fucking help me,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes in defeat.

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

time ticked by slowly, your arms and shoulders starting to ache as they were held in the same position. you tried to reposition them to get some relief, but none came.

suddenly, you heard the door click open, your eyes flitting up hopefully. gloria entered with a grin on her painted lips, making her way towards you.

while you were in the room by yourself, you had used the time wisely to come up with what would hopefully be a successful escape plan. you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes. “gloria, can we talk?”

“absolutely. what’s on your mind?” it was creepy how quickly she seemed to get over your defiance from earlier, but you pushed the thought from your mind.

“well, honestly, your proposal.” you began. “i know how i acted the other day was totally uncalled for, and i’ve reconsidered.”

“well, you didn’t really have much of a choice, sweetheart, but i’m glad you feel that way.” she stroked a hand over your stomach, making you feel physically sick. “is there anything else?”

“yeah, there is. can we start now? i wanna start these happy nine months as soon as i can.” you faked a smile, the words coming out of your mouth churning your insides.

“well yes, i guess that could be arranged,” she moved to get up and you panicked, your plan quickly setting out of motion.

“wait!” you exclaimed. “can you uncuff me? i don’t think it would really be enjoyable if i was tied down like i am now.”

she looked skeptical, but sat down next to you anyways. “give me one good reason you wouldn’t be trying to escape as soon as i untied you.”

“well, i’ve had a change of heart.” no i haven’t. “i’ve considered it, and i think you’re right.” no you’re not. “i think this experience would be really beneficial to me,” no it wouldn’t. “especially if i wasn’t chained to the bed the whole time.” definitely not.

“it seems that you’ve really put some thought into this, i’m very proud of you.” gloria crooned. she sat on the side of the mattress, working on uncuffing your hands from the bedposts. as soon as both your hands were free, you took a tight grip of her hair and used your body weight to launch her off of you and onto the floor. she cried out, clutching her head as you worked at the ropes around your ankles.

“you psycho fucking bitch!” you cursed at her. “i’m getting my girlfriend and that fucking kid and we’re getting the fuck out of here!” once your legs were finally free, you took off, running down the stairs as the damsel called out for her husband.

you raced towards the door, prying at the handle, when a gunshot goes off right next to your head. you jumped in fear, raising your hands in defense to see george at the top of the staircase, wielding your pistol.

“exactly what in the hell do you think you’re doing? get your ass up here!” he shouted, waving the weapon threateningly. when you stood frozen in your tracks, he spoke again. “i’m a crack shot, kid. i missed you on purpose that time. now get on up here.”

you grudgingly headed up the stairs, keeping your wide eyes facing straight ahead. you heard gloria sobbing in the other room, sounding as distraught as ever, and you knew you were in for it. “who the hell raised you like that? you of all people making a woman cry like that.”

“i’d blow your brains out if i thought you had any,” george sighed. “well, i’ll tell you one thing; you’re a bit too spry for my liking.”

suddenly, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet ripped through the meat of your thigh. you screamed in agony, clutching the wound as you cried out. “fuck! what the fuck? you just fucking shot me!”

he acted like it was nothing, simply tossing a towel at you to stop the bleeding. “quit your whinin’, ya sally. we’ll get you bandaged up.”

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

“don’t make me put another bullet in ‘ya. just behave, goddammit!” george growled as he dragged you down the basement stairs. through your hazy vision, you were able to make out jules handcuffed to a pole not too far away from the girl. he drops you to the floor, yanking your hands behind your back and cuffing them next to jules’.

“y/n!” jules called out, a happy yet worried smile making its way onto her lips. her gaze landed on your leg, her eyes widening when she saw the bloody wrappings. “oh my god! you motherfucker, what did you do to her?”

“what are you blind? i shot her.” george stated matter-of-factly. “now you two keep quiet down here. keep an eye on ‘em, sweetiepie.” he looked over to the girl before heading upstairs.

“fuck, i’m so happy you’re alive, baby! i heard those gunshots go off and i was so scared i was gonna lose you! are you okay?” jules blurted out, trying to turn towards you.

“it hurts so fucking bad, but i’m okay.” you panted, breathing labored. you wriggled your arms, pulling on the cuffs frustratingly.

“can you pick it?” jules asks hopefully. your heavy eyes darted around the basement, searching for something in arm’s reach small enough to fit in the keyhole.

“i don’t have anything to pick it with.” you huffed, leaning your head back against the pole as tears of frustration brimmed your eyes. “shit!”

you peeled your eyes open to look around the room once more, eyes landing on sweetiepie as she stared back at you in fascination. you had had enough of this little girl; she was the reason you were in this whole mess. if she just would’ve fucking cooperated, the three of you could be outta here and on the route to florida. “oh, i’m so glad you’re here, i didn’t get the chance to say fuck you!”

jules nudged you with her elbow, as if to discourage you from swearing at the child. “leave her alone, she feels bad. she didn’t know what she was doing.”

“how the hell do you know? she talked?” you asked in confusion at her statement.

“i don’t know, i just do.” jules shrugged. sweetiepie had resumed playing with her toys once more, the little princess dolly riding away on the heroic stallion’s back. you sighed at the seemingly hopeless situation, letting your eyes fall shut.

this was gonna be a long night.

***************************

okay so an itty bitty change of plans: if this ended where it was originally supposed to, it would be really long and kinda unsatisfying (to me at least), so i’m splitting this into two chapters.

which means that instead of a 5-part series, this will be 6 parts! it just makes more sense to me that way.

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy!! i really had fun writing this part!

tags: @emmyrosee @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass

#jules #jules x reader #jules imagine #jules oneshot #jules fic #jules fanfic #jules fanfiction #jules villains #villains #villains 2019 #maika monroe #maika monroe character #my writing

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betweentheinkk-reviews · 5 years

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Call Down The Hawk- Maggie Stiefvater

Rating: 4/5

Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult fiction

Summary:

Call Down The Hawk is the first book in The Dreamer Trilogy, a spin-off of The Raven Cycle. Taking place in a world where people can pull things out of their dreams but must live in secret, CDTH follows the stories of the Dreamers, their dreams and the people who have to live with them. Following The Raven Cycle’s resident bad-boy Ronan Lynch, a dreamer himself; his brother Declan, a professional liar; Jordan Hennessey, an art forger with a mysterious existence, and Carmen Farooq-Lane, a woman hired to kill dreamers in an attempt to save the world. Taking us back to Stiefvater’s fantastical Henrietta, Call Down the Hawk continues where the Raven Cycle left off and brings with it all of its predecessor’s beautiful prose, mesmerizing world-building and the complex characters that pull it all together.

Thoughts:

Maggie my love, my queen has done it again.

I’m not much of a fan of authors extending the story passed their ending because in a lot of cases there isn’t much of a need for that. But for this series, I think it is not only completely justified but entirely necessary. Ronan was always the most mysterious part of the Raven Cycle, both to the audience and even to himself, with only two books in the series that actually included chapters by his point of view and the fact that so much of what he is and his family history was still left unanswered by the end of the series, a Ronan centered spin-off seemed only inevitable.

With a series based-around people who can pull things out of their dreams you can expect CDTH to be a lot more out of this world than TRC and it definitely is. This series, although still keeping a lot of the atmosphere of the first series, is slowly taking TRC’s setting of magical realism and adding a lot more extreme elements of complete fantasy. It’s not a completely strange shift given TRC set the foundation for anything being possible in Maggie’s batshit world. It’s hard to imagine that at one point sentient forests were hard to believe now that we have dreamers, children with goat legs, shapeless monsters and people who can see the future dropped onto our lap like it’s no big deal.

But world-building put aside, if there’s one thing that really makes Stiefvater’s writing shine, it’s the incredibly well-written and complex characters so let’s get into that:

First of all: Declan, Declan, DECLAN. Ok so if you had told me while I was still reading The Raven Boys that Declan would at any point be my favorite character I would have laughed in your face. Yet here we are. Even after all the strides TRC made to explain Declan’s actions and motivations to us, even after his short story, I could never find myself sympathizing with him and I didn’t think this book would change anything. Yet here we freaking are. This book really dives into all the layers that make up Declan, he is complex and hurt and so incredibly repressed but puts himself through that pain over and over again in an attempt to protect himself and his brothers. It was fascinating to read about and understand this carefully constructed facade Declan had made for himself and how it increasingly takes its toll on him. And even more fascinating to see this act fall away and let us finally see who he is capable of being when he isn’t so determined to be “boring”. His relationship with his younger brother Mathew is adorable and really what sold me on him, Declan mentions taking his role as “substitute parent” very seriously regarding Mathew and he definitely does, his absolute love for him shines throughout every chapter and every time anything goes wrong he’s always the first person Declan thinks of. It was also interesting to see his views on the boys’ father, Nial Lynch. Anyone who has kept up with the series this long knows Declan isn’t his dad’s biggest fan but I thought it was a really interesting contrast to go from Ronan’s romanticized view of him in The Dream Thieves and all the love it radiated, to Declan’s sheer hatred and unresolved anger. It was also really funny to watch him start cursing his dad every time anything went wrong because, you know, he was a jerk so why not.

Ronan has had my heart since the Dream Thieves and this book proves he has no intention of giving it back. It was so wonderful to see how far he has come and how much he has changed since the very first TRC book and that is mainly shown through the way he handles emotions. TRC Ronan converted all uncomfortable emotions into anger because that was the only way he knew how to cope, CDTH Ronan is a Ronan that allows himself to need, to love, to ask for help and, best of all, to cry when he needs to. I really liked how his loneliness was really touched on in this book, not just loneliness as a result of all his friends leaving him, but an overall loneliness from so long being the only one like him.

Ronan and Adam’s relationship was not at all what I expected it to be. These are two boys who have spent so much of their lives repressing their emotions so I didn’t expect them to be mushy and lovey right off the bat, boy was I wrong. Watching them so openly and vulnerably love each other was amazing and a culmination of both of their character development. But, although it was so sweet to see, I kind of wish we had gotten to see a bit of how they got to that point. When we left them at the end of the Raven King they had only just started to consider the possibility of a relationship and I kind of hoped to see the transition from friends to partners and how they learned to open themselves up to each other emotionally, instead, CDTH skips all that and takes us to a point in their relationship where they have already said their I love yous and are completely comfortable with it. On one hand, I love the intimacy on the other I wish we got to see how they reached that point in the first place, I also really wanted to get to see how they broke the news of their relationship to those closest to them, the only one whose reaction we really got to see was Gansey’s. Nonetheless, the boys’ love for each other was one of the highlights of the book for me and all Adam scenes (however few) were a gift.

I kept trying to figure out a way to talk about Jordan and Hennessey’s relationship without spoiling anything and I couldn’t really come up with anything so I’m just going to say it was so interesting and I loved it, it was especially interesting to see these girls who should be exactly the same but aren’t and how Jordan developed into her own person. Not to mention I just plain loved Jordan, she is so badass but soft and caring and funny as heck. As for Hennessey, she is, in a lot of ways, basically a female version of Ronan, except a Ronan who is still volatile and self-destructive, so it was great to see Ronan take up the sort of mentor role with her that he himself never got.

Another new character was Carmen Farooq-Lane. And, honestly, I thought her presence took up a lot more pages than it should have. Did we need to know about the inner workings of the moderators? Sure. But did we need several chapters describing her dealing with all of (name-of-kid-that-I-already-forgot-because-he-was-unnecessary)’s pet peeves? Absolutely not.

Finally, my last bit of commentary for this atrociously long review is that nothing really happened? Ok, I need to rephrase that, things did happen but there was no clear plot or even an actual climax. The plot bit I shouldn’t be too surprised by because the entirety of TRC was very, very character-driven and that seems to be the case here too but even with that in mind, I felt like this book was just a series of events just sort of spontaneously happening and characters being introduced with no real goal or direction that felt like they would be leading up to something but then the climax at the end is only brought up in the last couple of pages and is settled, underwhelmingly, in only a few more. Just like I said in my Wayward Son review, I understand the need for a book to set things up for the rest of the series but I don’t think that should mean the individual book should be missing anything from it.

Tl dr: Although the climax and pacing of the book left me disappointed, overall CDTH was a wholeheartedly enjoyable book filled with well-written characters, beautiful prose and encapsulating world-building that has left me more than excited for the rest of the Dreamer Trilogy.

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winteriron-trash · 5 years

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Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliment Sandwich

So I just saw S:FFF and I have... feelings. But since I’ve been really critical of the MCU lately despite claiming to be a big Marvel fan, I thought I should be nice and give the movie a nice compliment sandwich to prove that I still like Marvel.

Good: The intro scene with the really crappy slideshow clearly made by an incompetent teenager was on point to teenage editing capability and fucking hilarious. It did a good job of setting the tone of the movie after the Dark and Serious intro with Fury and Hill

Good: Calling the Snap, “the Blip” is fucking hilarious and I love how meme-ish everyone is with it, which is probably the most realistic thing about this movie

Good: Peter’s suitcase with the “BFP” initials were a great subtle shout out, I liked that.

Bad: I think the other guy who had a crush on MJ kinda added nothing to the plot and did nothing for the conflict of Peter’s relationship with MJ. He just really seemed pointless and salty and his addition was only an annoying attempt at drama.

Bad: Oh. My. God. Can we like, not milk Tony Stark? I’m a #1 Tony Stark stan, but I feel like when your runtime loses at least fifteen minutes when you cut out every reference to him, there’s a problem. We make jokes about Spider-Man movies just being Iron Man movies, but this literally felt like Iron Man 6. Stop, and let the MCU move on.

Bad: I get that Mysterio was obviously going to be the villain the whole time, we been knew about that, but did the reveal have to be so cheap? Like, you had that cliche ass fade away of the scene, and Mysterio even had that awful Cliche Evil Villian Smile. Could you not have done it better? Like, we all knew Bucky was the WS, but the reveal was still shocking because it was shocking to the characters. This was just stupid.

Bad: And speaking of Mysterio, why the fuck would you get rid of his powers, just to give another cheap tie into Tony? It made no sense and you managed to ruin a great Spider-Man villain by making him an obsessive smart guy.

Bad: You teased the multiverse, and you didn’t follow through? Leave me alone with that nonsense. What could’ve been the coolest plot device of the whole movie was thrown away as a “wild idea”. Fuck that nonsense.

Bad: No, I’m not done about Mysterio. Why did you kill him off? That just didn’t even feel right at all, I hate it.

Bad: Where. The. Fuck. Were. The. Avengers. Why is Doctor Strange unavailable? Where’s Sam? Bucky? Wanda, even?What the fuck.

Bad: If the elemental villains were just illusions, how was Peter able to interact with the one by touching it and grabbing onto it, but the other he just entered? Maybe I missed something but seems fishy.

Bad: Still not done with Mysterio. He was a bad villain and just a copy of so many villains we’ve seen before in the MCU. It was like you took everything that made Vulture interesting and just ran with what was left. He was an unstable psychopath with access to some dangerous tech and a cult of followers. We’ve heard this story before.

Bad: No seriously, where the fuck were the Avengers

Bad: I feel like Peter figured out what was going on way too easily? Like, he saw that it was just a projection and then everything was put together? Idk, that felt really fast and cheap

Bad: So many of the cool scenes from the trailer were just... not there and I feel cheated. The most iconic, Sider-Man feeling lines of the trailer were cut and honestly Marvel, this is getting stupid. A few seconds that end up getting cut is fine, but half of your trailer wasn’t in the movie. What’s the point of even having a trailer?

The end credits scene. No. Having Spider-Man being seen as a villain to the public is nothing new and fine if we want to believe that, but revealing his identity? No. I hate it. It doesn’t make sense to the story of Spider-Man and is now a loose thread we won’t find out the repercussions of for at least a few movies, all just for the shock value.

Bad: Why did the “Peter tingle” only work at certain points? It was never really explained what brought it back and felt kinda stupid as a way for Peter to win the final boss battle super easily.

Bad: What. The. Fuck. Was with the other end credit scene? Why are the Skrulls back? Are we to assume that Fury and Hill were never even on Earth throughout the whole thing? Fucking why? Why was he on a spaceship with Skrulls? It’s not suspense, it just flat out doesn’t make sense. Fury wasn’t even Fury, so how did he know things like Happy’s “code”? It makes no sense.

Bad/Good/Confusing?: Okay, is Peter the next Iron Man or is he not? The movie couldn’t really seem to decide on that. It kept insisting Peter wasn’t and he was his own thing as Spider-Man, but then literally everything else was screaming that he was and I just can’t tell what they were doing with that. We don’t need a “next Iron Man” and yet the movie seemed to want to shove the idea down our throats. I like that Peter was adamant that he wasn’t the next Iron Man because he shouldn’t be, but at the same time, the movie seemed to contradict that idea? I’m really lost on that whole deal.

Good: Okay, “Peter tingle” is funny, I’ll admit that

Good: MJ was fucking amazing and I love her. Her finding out Peter is Spider-Man was so refreshing from the secret identity trope, and she did have the cool moment with the flail taking out the drone. She’s just a really great character and I liked her a lot.

Good: I love Ned. That’s all.

Good: Flash was annoying but in a good way? Like, I thought he was over the top in Homecoming, but he was actually kinda amusing and seemed like a realistic character in this movie.

Good: Ned and Betty were cute together, and I’m actually not mad at how they had them break up but remain on good terms. It felt like an accurate depiction of high school relationships versus the typical dramatic shit we usually see in movies. They were just really cute and I hope to see more of Betty in future movies.

Good: The fight scenes with the illusions, especially at the end where Peter relies completely on Spider Sense were really fucking cool. That whole visual was trippy and I loved it.

Good: Okay, the scene where Peter has to take his clothes off for the lady agent and Brad walks in was kinda funny and I’m sad the lady agent was never to be seen again. I want her back.

Good: Fine, I’ll admit it, J. Jonah Jameson at the end credits scene was hilarious and it was exciting to see him made into an established character to bring the Spider-Man movies back to their roots.

Good: Whilst I hate the constant Tony Stark reference, the scene where Peter is building his new suit with all the holograms and Happy puts on AC/DC was probably the best tribute to Tony. It didn’t feel shoved down our throats and it didn’t make it seem like Peter was the new Iron Man, but it still was a cool way of showing how Peter is following in Tony’s footsteps and still his protegee. It just felt really awesome.

Good: Overall, it did feel like a good, cohesive Spider-Man movie. It succeeded where past Spider-Man movies have failed and was an enjoyable movie that was still lighthearted enough to be funny and easy to watch. Even if it does nothing to even try to fit into the MCU and manages to both ignore Endgame and try to explain Endgame at the same time, as a Spider-Man movie, it succeeded in my opinion. For as much criticism as I have, I didn’t leave the theatre feeling cheated or angry at it. I can nitpick things as they relate to the MCU, but as a movie itself, I don’t think I have much to complain about, really.

See? I tried to be fair, this time. This is just mostly me rambling to get my thoughts out. I’m still ignoring most MCU movies post-Winter Soldier, but I’m trying to be nice this time and not completely hateful.

Also, to prove to yall how small and ignored the theatre I go to is, here’s the packed house for the brand new MCU movie.

Wow. Don’t know how we even found a seat in this chaos.

#spiderman far from home spoilers #far from home spoilers #spiderman spoilers #spiderman far from home #shitposting with becca #personal opinions #seriously a lot of this is just my opinion and my uncle and i were even arguing and he liked it a lot more than i did #i didn't hate it #i just don't think it fit into the mcu #it had a lot on it's shoulders to do and it didn't really deliver you know?#that's how i feel about it #good spiderman movie bad mcu movie #also it came out of nowhere and i think should've had a much later release date #i think everyone is still riding the endgame wave and just wasn't ready for a new mcu movie tbh #but anyway #some of this was sarcasm #but i am trying to be nice #i feel like such a hypocrite saying i'm a marvel fan then constantly hating on the mcu and every decision it makes #i like the art #i just think i should be allowed to critique it as well #let me have my cake and eat it too #tbh if i were getting into the mcu now i don't think i would've stuck with it #which i think is a dangerous problem for the mcu rn is it's not friendly to new fans #and pushing away older fans because it's just not try to itself #but that's a whole other can of worms that deserves its own post #also i liked the girl in the hijab that was small but nice #okay i'm done for now

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whnvr · 4 years

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Brain Drain

Ah yes, hello. It is once again time to drain these brains of mine. A couple of more thoughts on this ‘Morning Pages’ process. Firstly, I’ve decided to take the Artist’s Way wording to heart and think of this as a non-negotiable exercise and, at least for the time being, I am going to do the full 1500 words as a block before I move onto anything else in my day. I’m still going to take the approach of retroactively editing them before I sleep in order to be more formatted, but the main body of text will be done first as, based on yesterday, I think this will focus me far more than spreading the writing out. Secondly, the more I think about it the more experimental I realise this entire process is for me. It’s probably best thought of as a heavily modified and specified version of the ‘Artist’s Way’ approach, as one of the stipulations offered up by Julia Cameron is that these are to be for your eyes and your eyes alone - even then going so far as to suggest that these should be sealed away in an envelope so that even the practitioner does not read them. So in that sense I am both taking a more documentative, methodical approach to the process and I am altering the formula by hosting these in a public forum. I understand that privacy helps to remove any filtering one may do but I also believe that the potential for these to be read comes with its own benefits. To that end this feels like an experiment of being creatively candid in public which is simulatenously exciting and daunting given that it runs so counter to the common approach of creating behind closed doors. I’d love to explore these ideas further as this journal progresses and see how my relationship with creativity changes due to these factors. So, I guess I’ll start by taking the measure of my day, as I am very much enjoying the ‘touching base’ element of these Morning Pages. I definitely feel a lot more blocked than I did yesterday, and it seems as though there’s somewhat of a hump to get over when I do these within the first 500 words or so before I get into a state of flow with it - this was true of yesterday also. Maybe that is one of the possible benefits of this exercise, that 'ramping-up-to-flow’ stage is one I likely experience whenever I sit down to create and the Brain Drain may be a way of me overcoming that before I come to do any of the actual creative work of my day. It seems as though forcing myself to do all 1500 words yesterday put me into the same sort of flow-state I gain from working on a really successful piece of music, and then today I am once again reset back into that familiar place of being 'blocked’, which even now I am slowly working through and unpicking purely by writing these words. Looking back on previous creative work this would seem to make an awful lot of sense. How much more demotivating it is to have to wake up and untease the same blocked feeling each morning on projects that I care deeply about and am heavily invested in than it is to instead get that part of the process out of the way on an off the cuff exercise like Brain Drain each morning. Maybe attempting to ease such a block through the work we care about is where all feelings of 'I’ve lost it’ and 'this project is hard now. Therefore how much better it must be to work through those blocks in a format that we’re not quite so invested in. Even right now there is a part of me that is very much resisting this process. It is an anxiety that masks itself as restlessness and tells me to 'go and watch a film, Aaron. Why put yourself through something so hard?’. As it is the creative enemy I have decided to call this my personal Antagonizer. Other thoughts of the Antagonizer, or the 'me’ that feels uncomfortable and uncreative: - 'Go and make a milkshake Aaron. Don’t do this. It’s 30 degrees outside today. You really need to just cool down.’ - 'Get up and walk around. You really need to release some of this tension that you’re feeling.’ - 'Go and talk to a family member. Telling them about what you want to write would be much easier than simply writing it’. That’s right Antagonizer, I WILL use your criticism in order to help me hit this wordcount. Checkmate. Yesterday has taught me that past this feeling is where enjoyment and flow lie if I can only push through it. I imagine some days will be significantly harder than others, and I imagine that I will even have days where 1500 words won’t begin to scratch the surface of this block, but I would so much rather try to push through this block writing whatever comes to mind over-and-above pushing through this block attempting to create whatever passes for a masterpiece in my world. On to next steps then. I would like to select a new artist to listen to today as I get on with other work. This would also be a good opportunity to show off a little of how I organise my inspiration, despite how embarrassingly over-elaborate it is.

On Spotify I keep a folder of artists who I’m either interest in, inspired by, are important pieces of musical history, examples of current artists who are doing what they do incredibly successfully, or artists that I feel would be generally useful to experience. For each artist, I will create a playlist, and in each playlist, I will save that artist’s entire discography chronologically. I will then slowly work my way through each of the artist’s discographies, deleting what I’ve listened to and categorising songs that jump out to me either in terms of whether I love, like, or dislike them, the emotional qualities that I want to emulate in my own music, or the technical qualities that stand out as exemplary within each song. This allows me to simultaneously build a picture of what my musical tastes are, keep an accurate record of my listening history, and create song palettes for different emotional qualities that I wish to put into my own work.

(Above: the technical qualities of music that I have categorised. This forms up a reference library that I can use to further refine these qualities when I’m working on my own music)Here are the criteria I use to define each of these categories. Idea: the concept behind a piece. Narrative: the story told. Lyrics: how ideas are expressed through words. Mood: the emotionality of a piece. Expression: how ideas are framed and delivered through the articulation of the music. Musicality: the use of harmony, rhythm, and theory to communicate those ideas. Rhythm: the measure, speed, flow, and cadence of a piece. Timbre: the overall texture, tone, and sonic palette of a piece. Structure: the flow of a piece over time. Mix: how the timbre has been arranged as an ensemble. Master: how the piece has been polished. Delivery: the title, artwork, context, presentation, and moving image that contain the piece.

(Above: the emotional qualities of music that I have categorised as a reference library for how artists that I look up to achieve specific emotional qualities in their work). These are decidedly more abstract and are generally more subject to the songs themselves that are being added. For reference, here’s the current list of artists who’s work I want to study, all at various stages of listened to, completed, or not listened to at all: - Labelle - Car Seat Headrest - Snail Mail - Japanese Breakfast - Let’s Eat Grandma - Soccer Mommy - LCD Soundsystem - Big Thief - Have a Nice Life - Beebadoobee - Animanaguchi - 100gecs - Courtney Barnett - Chromonicci - Owsey - Dark Cat - Valentine - SOPHIE - Kamasi Washington - Prince - Aurora - Massive Attack - Haywyre - Maths Time Joy - Counting Crows - Jack Strauber - Blossom Calderone - Goldfrapp - Janelle Monae - Meteorologist - Easyfun - Saint Lewis - Julian Gray - Jade Cicada - Blake Skowron - 92Elm - Maxime - Stereo Cube - Chuck Sutton - Gemi - Queen - Laxcity - Duumu - Oh Wonder - Galamatias - Umru - Underscores - Brockhampton - Fleece - i Monster - Deaton Chris Anthony - Amy Winehouse - The Beatles - Sumthin Sumthin - Radiohead - Flume - Knapsack - Dodie Here are the artists who’s discographies I have completed via this approach: - Sidney Gish - M.I.A - In Love With a Ghost - Bowie - Pink Floyd - Baird - Rudimental - Iglooghost - Madeon - Porter Robinson - 100gecs I use a similar system alongside this over on Pinterest for visual work in order to better inform my visual style and aesthetic sensibilities. Here is how I define my visual observation: Interior & Exterior, the space of dwelling.

Colour, of which idiosyncrasy and primary colours are a main focus.

Tone, subtler than colour. An intangible quality communicated by shifting hues and gradiated layers.

Mood, the way an image feels.

Looks, clothes, & apparel: personal artistic image and identity.

Desolation, a quality not currently present in my own work, but one that I often observe and love within other work, as well as in storytelling and other environments.

Layout, the way things are arranged in relation to one another within a space.

Idea, the concept behind a thing.

Texture, the tactile quality of visual elements.

Form, the shape and bounds of a thing.

Presentation, the context a thing is placed within.

Render, the quality imparted by computer generated imagery.

Type, how words are displayed.

Pattern, the use of repetition.

As you can see, how I define sound and visual art share a fairly common language between them. Anyway, I divert. I’m going to select SOPHIE as the next discography to tear through and I am also going to continue working through the UE4 Beginner learning path, though before either of these I have some university paperwork/admin stuff to finish so I’d best crack on with that. Toodles!

#25.6.2020

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silasmadams · 5 years

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My Problem with a “Darker Shade of Magic” by V.E. Schwab

So I’ve been meaning to talk about V. E. Schwab’s A Darker Shade of Magic. I know it’s got plenty of love behind it and its got its fair share of fans but I can’t for the life of me love this book and yes I mean only the first book because that’s as far as I read in the series. I have a similar relationship to this as I do Children of Blood by Tomi Adeyemi in that I completely understand why people like it, I just don’t.

I’m also going to give a trigger warning that I will be talking about sexual assault, violence, and general gore so if that makes you uncomfortable give this a skip. I’ll give a trigger warning again when I’m about to speak in-depth on the previously mentioned subjects. I will also warn you when I’m about to head into spoiler territory, though I won’t be going into particularly big spoilers.

Summary

For those of you that don’t know, A darker shade of Magic is the first book in the Darker Shade of Magic trilogy by V. E. Schwab. It’s about three separate Londons, Red, White, and Grey. Red is the London with lots of magic, it’s the pretty and bougie London. White is a cesspit of violence with very little magic forcing its inhabitants to cling onto any magic they can for dear life. Their leaders are cruel and it's not uncommon for them to be usurped. Generally to get ahead in White London you need to be vile. And Grey London is our world's London roughly around the 1800s, since King George III is alive but very old and dying. So the conflict is about Black London, the fourth London that was cut off from the others because their magic consumed the people and the land. Kell an antari, a super magical person, is able to travel through the three londons and he ends up getting caught up in some big conspiracies and power grabs. Interesting premise right? I agree but the execution ehhh. Ok, let’s start first with the pros of the book.

Style

Her style isn’t anything too extravagant. But that doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It’s nowhere near bad. She’s got quite a few descriptions that really draw you in. Her opening lines are damn near perfect. “Kell wore a very peculiar coat, It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible” [pg 11]. It doesn’t reveal much but it sort of tosses this thread out there for you to follow into the larger narrative. It’s got almost a rhyming quality to it, a rhythm that you can feel yourself saying as you recite the lines aloud. It gives you just enough to keep you invested but not enough to reveal anything of importance. All of the writing in this book has a similar draw to it, it’s simple and intricate all at once and it’s very precise in what it’s trying to say. When Schwab describes something in the narrative, you can imagine it very clearly. Just listen to how she describes the marketplace. "The subtle scent of flowers was lot beneath the aroma of cooking meat and freshly cut fruit, heavy spices and mulled wine. A man in dark robes offered candied plums beside a woman selling scrying stones. A vendor poured steaming tea into short glass goblets across from another vibrant stall displaying masks and a third offering tiny vials of water drawn from the Isle, the contents still glowing faintly with its light..." [pg 45 and 46]. Overall Schwab knows her craft and it’s clear that she’s confident in her writing because she should be, she’s got the technical and stylistic aspect down to a tee.

Setting

The setting is amazing, but and there is a big but which includes minor spoilers so run away now if you want to read this book. I will say that it’s a good book, it’s just not a good book to me. If you’re into other world fantasies and cross-dimensional travel you’ll probably like this. I’m into that too but the problem is that this book has a lot of missed potential for me. So if the previously mentioned description sounds interesting or if the summary I gave sounds interesting to you, leave, go read the book and come back. If it doesn’t sound interesting or you don’t care about spoilers then I guess stick around if you want.

So the premise is amazing. These three different Londons that all exist in different dimensions that only a select few, two people to be exact, can travel to are vastly different from one another. Their landscapes, their people, their overall geography, it’s all completely different, the only overlapping aspects that they all have are their names and the two travelers that can move about their kingdoms, those two being Kell, one of our main characters and Holland, one of our main antagonists.

I think Red London is overall well done, Schwab captures it perfectly. A land of flowers and joy with obvious problems and tensions but out of the three London’s is clearly portrayed as the best. So I’ve got no qualms with that.

What I found upsetting though was White London and Grey London. For White London, it was this hellscape of a city that had so much room to be this horrible torturous place and Schwab touches on it, she grazes the surface of it ever so slightly but she never manages to hit the mark completely. When you tell me White London is a grimy and gross place filled with power-hungry bastards and bitches what’s to stop me from going “well isn’t that just normal London aka Grey London but with magic?” I needed more of White London, I needed more of that seedy underbelly to better contrast with Grey London. With Grey London, we see the horrors of the land through the character of Lila Bard who has a difficult life, who needs to survive on her own in this terrible place, no offense London. I think the best way to have fixed this was to have more focus on Holland, the character that was from White London. If we were to have three POVs from Holland, Kell, and Lila, instead of just Lila and Kell, this problem could be solved. It would convolute the story because of the twist about Holland and his involvement in trying to help the twin rulers of White London take over Red London but I feel like that’s an ok thing to lose in order to gain a better understanding of White London and have a more fleshed out narrative of all three kingdoms.

Characters

I hate these characters. Ok, that’s kind of a strong word, I don’t hate them. I don’t hate all of them at least. And I know plenty of people love and adore these characters, I’ve seen the artwork and the time and effort people put into these characters and it’s all amazing but I just do not get the hype. I didn’t like them.

See, my thing is that I hate characters that don’t reach, what I see as their true potential. Which is just a roundabout way of saying that I hate characters that are boring. I mean I can enjoy a badly written character as much as the next person but the thing is that a boring character is not enjoyable for anyone, especially when you see threads of a character and know that they can be something more. Now I haven’t read either of the other two books so maybe the characters are different there, I don’t know. All I know is that I either found the characters to be boring, cliche, or just annoying.

The first character to make this most egregious mistake on the part of being boring, would be none other than Kell. So Kell is the adopted Prince, the older brother of Rhy. He was taken away from his family at a young age and brought up in the palace because he was an Antari, which again is a super magical person that can travel through the different Londons and is an expert in various other types of magic, natural or otherwise. So Kell loves his brother and he has issues with his adoptive parents because he feels that they see him only as a tool. Now, this is good, this has potential. The problem here is that we never see moments of the King and Queen treating Kell badly and they don’t even need to necessarily treat him badly they just need to drop hints of how they clearly favor Rhy. And I didn’t see those hints. As far as I could tell, both boys were treated relatively equal, Kell had a lot more work on his plate but that was because he’s an Antari, he’s the only Antari. To really drive home that feeling of isolation and of Rhy being his only real family among the royals there needs to be more memories of their childhood where the King and Queen picked Rhy over Kell and it was because of them seeing Rhy as their real son and Kell as more of a soldier. There is also the issue of Lila just dismissing these feelings that Kell has about his family not loving him but we’ll get to that in a bit. All that aside, Kell just isn’t interesting. You could replace him with a cardboard cutout and I wouldn’t know the difference. He’s just not an engaging character, he’s got the threads of an engaging character but he himself is not one. Whenever I was back to his POV I didn’t know whether to groan out of boredom or to just be glad we weren’t in Lila’s head. I decided to go with the former because Lila is fun to hate, Kell is bread, he’s not even toast, he’s bread, soggy bread. Ok, that’s enough.

Now Lila, Oh Lila. How I despise thee. I get what Schwab was going for with this character. She was the badass cross-dressing thief lady that could cut you down. Lila is an orphan that had to fend for herself after her father basically tried to sell her off. She’s got a good introduction and it bleeds into some good first few chapters. Now warning I’m about to talk about sexual assault and just general violence so skip to the next paragraph if you don't want to read that. In one of the earlier chapters, Lila comes home, her home being a docked ship that she stays at. The ship is owned by an older man who she basically pays rent to. When she gets back, the guy, Powell, asks for his cut. He’s drunk out of his mind which is also not unusual for this character. When she says she doesn’t have anything to give him today, he responds by saying he can take something else from her, clearly implying sexual favors. So she straight up fucking murders Powell "Dead. Dead... and making a mess... She crouched, wiped her blade on Powell's shirt, and recovered the silver from his pocket. And then she stepped over his body, retrieved the revolver from its drawer, and got dressed" [pg 69]. And then to cover her tracks, she sets his boat on fire and dips. "Lila stood on the dock and watched the Sea King burn. She stared up at it, face warmed by the fire that danced on her chin and cheeks the way the lamp light had before the constable.'It's a shame,’ she thought. She'd rather liked the rotting ship. But it wasn't hers. No, hers would be much better" [pg 70]. Come on, tell me that’s not a great anti-hero introduction? Because it is.

That being said, the more time I, as a reader spent with Lila, the more I realized I hate her. I mean at least I felt something towards her, unlike Kell. So the first problem with Lila is that she is the epitome of “I’m not like other girls” Every chance she gets to put down anything girly or to put down other women she takes. Or, she just jumps at the chance of being called not like other girls. Which Kell often obliges in. And, this would be ok if it was criticized within the story, if it was properly examined why she feels this way, because there could be a lot of reasons, one of which could be that she realized behaving in a more aggressive or traditionally masculine way allowed her to have autonomy and allowed people to not talk down to her but to be afraid of her. There are a lot of ways in which this could go but it didn’t. And there’s nothing wrong with liking more traditionally masculine things, the problem is the way in which Lila clearly needs to put other women down in order to feel special about herself. I also mentioned earlier about my issue with how Lila undermines Kell’s feelings of his adoptive parents never really loving him and seeing him only as a tool. Again, this could have been played up a little more and Kell could have properly called her out instead of just being the meek bread he is and letting her essentially tell him that his emotional struggle doesn’t matter cause he’s rich. I get where Lila is coming from in this scenario and I do like that she treats him like that in terms of his emotions because it’s very telling of her own upbringing. The problem is that she very clearly makes it about herself and her problems. This could have worked better if she simply dismissed his feelings, got angry at him for basically swimming in cash, and then stopped there. We should have gotten an insight into her thoughts of why she feels this way or have it implied why she feels this way, rather than have her outright say it, because in this case, when she voices that and shifts everything back to herself it feels very purposeful and mean on her end rather than it just being her natural reaction. Instead of going “oh my life was terrible and way worse than yours” it would work better if she just called him a brat, told him to shut up, and then moved about her own business. That could also add a more interesting dynamic to these characters by having Kell be the emotional one and Lila be the one who Kell has to urge out of her shell by being the emotional support. It would be a role reversal of the traditional way most romances go, and again, I think Schwab was trying to do that, but the execution of it fell flat. My final gripe with this character is that she isn’t feral enough, and if Schwab had just made her more feral, this character would fit in perfectly. What I mean by feral is, exactly that honestly. She was too put together, too suave and cool and always knew what to say. If you’re gonna tell me this street urchin type orphan in 1800s London is cool and suave I’m gonna call bullshit cause no way this girl isn’t straight up feral and ready to bite someone’s nose off at the drop of a hat because that’s what she’s gotta do to survive. I just wish Schwab had gone down this route instead of the Lila we got, but oh well. It is what it is.

I’m only briefly going to talk about Rhy, Kell’s younger brother, because there isn’t too much I have to say about him and I feel like this is already long enough as is. Rhy is basically a cut and dry trope of the rich prince boy with a heart of gold. I love that archetype so I like Rhy, but to an extent. He seems to be only that trope and that’s it. There isn’t much more to him. Though he’s not as boring as Kell or as annoying as Lila so that’s a plus. I haven’t even talked about the twins that rule White London or Holland but again this is already too long, don’t need to make it longer and they also involve a lot of major spoilers that I don't want to get into.

Pacing

I know earlier that I said Schwab’s style of writing was very well done, that she clearly had a kind of rhythm for the writing itself, and I stand by that statement but the pacing is not good. It’s all over the place, it’s either too slow or too fast or just nonexistent. I’m going to use romance as an example of how the pacing is bad and I think you can tell that with a lot of books. If they have romance in them, which if we’re being real, they probably do, then the way in which the romance plays out can often be a good indicator of pace. The relationship is wonky so the pacing is wonky. To be honest, the relationship was something I didn’t buy. It went by too fast and when Lila kissed him it felt very robotic like they were just getting together because they were the breeding pair. They had no chemistry whatsoever even as friends. As friends, they were at least somewhat more tolerable, but like romantic partners, I just didn’t see it. The stilted romance was awkward and dumb and again, there was no chemistry, they were just shoved together because they were the only guy and girl and both had a POV. I don’t know the overall pacing was slow, and I don’t mind slow build-up books. One of my favorites, Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor is a very slow build-up book but it’s well done, it doesn’t drag. This book drags and the romance in it drags. When the pace picks up it’s like going a thousand miles an hour. When shit hit the fan in the book, I get that it was supposed to be fast-paced and tense but I was never tense while reading it I just kind of wanted the whole book to end so I didn’t have to keep slogging through it. I guess I just hoped that the ending would tie it all together and fix the pacing which is stupid on my part because that’s not at all what happened.

Conclusion

Well, that’s all I gotta say about it, I gave it three stars on GoodReads.

Buy the book here:

https://www.amazon.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Novel-Shades-ebook/dp/B00ME0TBFE

Buy it Used here:

https://www.abebooks.com/Darker-Shade-Magic-Schwab-Victoria-Titan/30413099967/bd?cm_mmc=ggl-_-US_Shopp_Trade-_-used-_-naa&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDRNRjl8x-ktniE3IUmecyE1lDYlPxglxoLpBAYEt7C3ivyt9PPabkaAmTGEALw_wcB

or here

https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/a-darker-shade-of-magic_victoria-schwab/9043358/item/16041243/?mkwid=MUQmUYQc%7cdc&pcrid=70112856192&product=16041243&plc=&pgrid=18035380632&ptaid=aud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_content=MUQmUYQc%7cdc%7cpcrid%7c70112856192%7cpkw%7c%7cpmt%7c%7cproduct%7c16041243%7cslid%7c%7cpgrid%7c18035380632%7cptaid%7caud-305373123344%3apla-459905910383%7c&gclid=Cj0KCQiA4NTxBRDxARIsAHyp6gDXbz2350Y8Tse02z5fKP_TgnPIH1DXhILOWkgk260VeZzQwUCgXbEaAsH5EALw_wcB#isbn=0765376466&idiq=16041243

Or just get it at your local library.

#a darker shade of magic #book #bookblog #character writing #pacing #a darker shade of magic series #complaing #complaining about books #setting #character analysis #fictional characters #writing style #library #spoilers #mild spoilers

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j-j-ehlby-writes · 5 years

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Fate (c.e.) (5/6)

Chapter Five- Chance

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person’s control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

The weeks go by and Sebastian has been the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for. He does everything right. He texts me cute quotes that make him think of me, he sent me flowers and sweets when my time of the month came, he picks Lizzie and me up on the mornings we all have class at the same time, he brings us food twice a week as we have binge-watching sessions at our place, he gets along with Lizzie so well they’ve quickly become besties, and so much more. He isn’t clingy, he’s considerate, he’s a perfect gentleman… He’s literally perfectly.

Then why do I look forward to when he leaves so I can be alone?

How crappy of a human being am I to not want to be with my boyfriend?

I was hoping as time went on, I would grow to love him; that the more time I spent with him I would get over what is holding me back… No such luck.

My favorite part of my day is when I go to his class. It’s like an escape. It’s a place I can forget what’s out there waiting for me. I’ve actually stayed the entire class time now, just to keep to myself for a little while longer… and shamelessly stare at him.

Every day I swear he gets more beautiful. His golden brown hair is always slicked back, begging to be messed up. His ensembles leave nothing to the imagination. His torso is the perfect “V,” giving into his lean waist which is always wrapped in excellent fitting slacks, contrary to their name.

I was doing fine keeping my distance, only looking and not touching, until he made the announcement:

“The sign-up sheet for Mid-term meetings is now up on the class page. Please make your appointments as soon as you possibly can. Meetings will start on Friday. I look forward to seeing how you’ve all improved within the last few weeks.”

Crap. I had totally forgotten about the mid-term meeting. I can’t be alone with him again, as much as I want to be. This time we have to be completely professional. We need to talk about his class and nothing else. We cannot have a repeat of our last meeting.

I complain about it when Lizzie and I got back to our apartment. I didn’t want to mention it in front of Sebastian for obvious reasons. “What do you think I should do? Wait until the last possible appointment or rip the band-aid off and just get it over with?” I ask hoping she could help make my decision.

She sighs, “As much as I want to tell you what you should do, you’ve got to make this decision on your own.” She pats my shoulder before retreating to her room. I go to mine and fall on my bed.

I log onto the class page to look at the appointment times available. Surprisingly and disappointingly, I didn’t see my name anywhere on the schedule this time. I guess he learned his lesson from the first time. I stare at the schedule, hoping the answer will come to me.

My phone dings, signaling a new email. I pull it up on my laptop, shocked at what I find.

“Miss Remington, You do not have to make an appointment, if you do not wish to. Your submissions have been flawless, needing no improvements. Just continue to turn in something every class and you will receive an A at end of term. -C”

I stare at the email, disappointment flowing through me. Does he not want to see me? Has he moved on from me? Has he gotten back together with her? There could be no other reason for this email. I refuse to believe my submissions have been “flawless.” There is always room for improvements. Always.

My thoughts were interrupted again by my phone dinging. I click back to my inbox to see another email from him. “But please do…” was all it said. My heart rate picked up, tossing all of my previous thoughts out the window. He could have just left it at the first email, but no. He felt sending those last three words were necessary to convey how he feels. He wants to see me outside of the classroom setting as much as I want to see him again.

Well that answers my original dilemma. I checked the schedule for Friday and decided on the last appointment for that day, but I didn’t put my name down for it. I didn’t want him to know or think he was the reason why I scheduled it. I’ll keep an eye on it all week to see if anyone officially snags it. I closed my laptop with a hopeful feeling I haven’t had for a very long time.

Wednesday came and Robert called me and Lizzie to see if we could bartend and waitress, claiming all of them are sick and he’s on vacation. Robert hired Lizzie and me as hostesses when we started school, eventually we were promoted to waitresses. Then when we turned 21, we dabbled in bartending. He gave us off for this last year so we could focus on finishing, but we told him we would help out if he was in dire need. He tells me this is one of those instances. We happily agree knowing it was going to be a slow night and it’d be easy money. We were right. Only regulars and a couple stragglers came in making for a stress-free evening. We always enjoy the witty banter we have with the regulars. They give us grief for not being there anymore, claiming the other bartenders don’t make their drinks as good as we do. They toast to my internship but complain that I won’t be there for entertainment. There really is no pleasing them. I just shake my head at them. Overall the night was enjoyable…

Until he walked in.

“Amara?” He says when he sees me. “I didn’t know you worked here.” He takes a seat at the bar in front of me.

“Yep.” I start wiping off the sticky bottles, trying to appear busy. “I have for a few years now. Gotta pay bills somehow.” I continue not looking at him while I ask what he’d like. I grab him a beer and put in his food order.

“Will you please look at me?” He quietly asks when there’s a lull in the night.

“I’m working.”

“That means you can’t look at me?” He asks a little louder.

“I’m busy. What do you want me to do? Ignore all of my other customers because you’re here?” I move to the computer so I can put in my tips from the night.

“Take a look around, Amara.”

I don’t need to in order to know that he’s the only one left at the bar. Lizzie has two tables left. She’s off at a different table rolling silverware and eyeing us every few seconds. This is typical for this time of night. With us closing in half an hour, everyone is mostly gone by now. Last call was made and everyone for the kitchen and alcohol so now all that is left is to start cleaning up.

“I’m well aware.” I don’t take my eyes off the screen, trying to show indifference. Even though all I want to know is why he’s here. Why did he decide to come in tonight of all nights? What are the freaking chances that he would choose to come here on the first night I’ve worked in weeks?

He begs, “Then can you please talk to me?”

“What is there to say?” I blurt exasperated. I finally look at him. God he’s gorgeous. Seeing him in casual clothes instead of the usual button-up, dress pants, and tie. Just like the first time I saw him. His normal gelled hair has lost some of its sturdiness, looking soft enough to still run my fingers through. Now that I see him up close he looks tired. Slight bags have formed under his eyes. Have the past few weeks exhausted him? Or was this recent? “We’re still in the same situation as before; nothing has changed. You’re still you and I’m still me. How many times are we going to have this conversation before we realize we don’t have a chance in hell?”

“It’s time to go, Mr. Evans.” Lizzie steps in, seeing how emotional I’m starting to get. She knows I wouldn’t walk away from this conversation without getting hurt. She’s being a really good friend.

He wanted to protest but now that Lizzie has stepped in, he knows it’s over now. When he started to reach for his wallet, I told him not to worry about it before escaping to the back. It didn’t feel right taking his money especially right now.

“Are you okay?” She asks after he leaves, but quickly answers her own question, “Stupid question. Of course you’re not. Go home. I’ll close up.” I repeatedly ask if she’s sure as she shoos me out, telling me not to worry and to go home and rest. It’s a good thing we came separately otherwise I would have to come back for her.

As soon as I left the bar, all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. All of my energy was drained from trying to avoid him and then that conversation… I was not prepared to have a conversation like that with him. Is this all our conversations will ever entail? The fact that we can’t be together even though we want to? That’s pointless and disappointing. I know we can talk about other things. We have. I honestly don’t think we could again until we resolve our main issue. And it’s truly too bad because I know how engaging our conversations can be. But since that first night, all but one of our interactions have been about us and our inappropriate feelings for each other. I can’t stand it.

“Amara…” His voice fills the quiet parking lot. I turn to see he didn’t actually leave. He was sitting on a bench just outside the building. It’s meant to be a designated smoke spot for the bar. However since no one is currently using it for that purpose, he’s using it.

“Chris, can we please not do this? I’m tired, I stink, and I just want to go home.”

He stands from the bench and approaches me. “I won’t keep you. I just had to say something.” Before I could register what he was doing, he kisses me. It was quick, but still stole my breath away. He rests his forehead on mine with his eyes still closed, “I believe if we gave us a chance, we could be something great.” He takes a deep breath, pulling back slightly to look at me. “You might not think so right now and that’s fine,” he takes my hands in his, locking his bloodshot blue eyes with mine, “but I’m not going anywhere. I will wait as long as it takes because that’s how much I believe in this, in us.” His hand caresses my cheek after placing some of my hair behind my ear. He smiles gently. “So, take your time. You’re worth all of the time in the world.” With that, he walks away. He leaves me confused, flustered, and wanting so much more.

I go back in the bar to see Lizzie standing there with the mop. “What’d he say?” She asks knowing exactly what just happened. My confusion, now for her, caused her to answer my unspoken question, “I told him to wait for you outside.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because Remi, I saw how you looked at him. You have never looked at Sebastian that way; you’ve never looked at anyone like that before. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.” She gives me the “you know I’m right” look, ceasing my forming argument. I know it would be pointless to deny it. Because of that, I stay quiet. “So, I told him to go outside and wait for you around the corner if he had any more to say. Obviously he said something so incredible that you came back in here to tell me, instead of waiting until I came home later.” She jutted out her hip, resting her fist on it. “So I will ask again: what did he say?”

“All of the right things.” I confess, hoping she understands what I’m getting at. She sighs and nods. She knew what I had to do. So did I. It wasn’t going to be easy, but hopefully the end result will be worth it.

“I kinda knew this was coming.” Sebastian says when I see him the next day. I didn’t even really have to say anything. I apologize because I know it wasn’t fair to him; because he doesn’t deserve this. “I’m surprised we lasted as long as we did.” He notes, taking all of this surprisingly well. “I could tell things were different from the start.”

“I’m so sorry. I wanted things to be different. I wanted it to work so badly, but-”

“But we’re obviously better off as friends.” He finishes seemingly on the same page.

“I truly hope we can still be friends because I do enjoy your company.” I know it’s one of the most cliché things to say during a break-up but in this case it’s true.

“Just not as your boyfriend.” He adds smirking.

“I really am sorry.” I apologize again. I worried about how he was going to take this all night. I didn’t know if he would be angry because I wasted his time or accuse me of having feelings for someone else… to which then I would tell him the truth. But I was most afraid he would be confrontational, making this even harder. However, I also knew that wasn’t his style. He doesn’t get angry. He is very level-headed about things that make him upset. My fear of confrontation was overriding my rational thinking.

“It’s honestly alright. I don’t regret anything. I would love if we could still hang out.” He smiles at me without any trace of hostility. “Besides, who else am I going to watch Gilmore Girls with? I need to find out if Luke and Lorelai end up together or not.”

And just like that, I had a new best friend. I may have lost my boyfriend but he’s right. We are obviously better as friends.

“Will you just tell me one thing?” He asks when I get up to leave. I nod. “Do you think we would have had a better chance if we met first?”

I shrug, “I don’t know.” He nods. “I wish I could give you an answer but I can’t.”

He nods again then smiles. I lean down, kissing his cheek. “You deserve the world,” I whisper.

“So do you.” He whispers back. “Now go get him.” He chuckles. “And if he hurts you, I will not hesitate to kick his ass.”

I giggle at his threat. “I would expect nothing less.”

Despite Sebastian’s go-ahead, I couldn’t make the leap. Not right away at least. I’ve tried to stay away from jumping from one relationship to another. It was a habit I had in high school I never wanted to go back to. So, I waited. It killed me, but I did. Lizzie and Sebastian never failed to gang up on me, pushing me to talk to him and tell him. They had become quite the pair, more so after we broke up. They’re favorite activity was banding against me when it came to deciding anything. My favorite was when they were on opposite ends of the spectrum and they would turn to me to break the tie. That was when I got my payback, vetoing their choices and going for my own.

For weeks, I kept my feelings to myself, counting down the days until the final class, a.k.a. when he is no longer my professor. As much as I wanted to be with him, I didn’t want it to be while he was my teacher. When I finally confess to him how I feel, I don’t want there to be any complications. Waiting until the very last day was the only time to do it. The “when” and the “what” were decided. All that was left was the “how.” How was I going to tell him? I don’t just want to say it outright. I voiced my thoughts to Lizzie and Sebastian to see if they would have any ideas.

“Dude.” Sebastian quirks his eyebrow at me. He gave Lizzie a look.

“He’s right.” She speaks as if reading his mind. “You’re a writer. Use it.”

With their encouragement, I began the painstaking journey of trying to write down how I felt about him. However it proved to be more difficult than anticipated. How do you write down that is indescribable? I tried multiple times, but nothing could accurately describe how he makes me feel. So instead of feelings, I focused on words. I ran over all of the conversations we’ve had. Slowly something came together. By my deadline, I had the perfect last entry to give him. I even let Lizzie read it. She swooned.

“Do you think he will get the message?” I skeptically ask. I included a secret message into the letter. I haven’t figured out if it was a good or bad idea yet.

She snorts, “If I can figure it out, so can he.”

So here we are. The last day of class. Since he doesn’t give tests, there will be no formal final. Just one last entry to turn in that we don’t mind not getting back, He handed back to each of us a manila folder with all of our submissions and an evaluation sheet containing our final grade. Once the last student had theirs, he stood in the middle of the front.

“I want to thank all of you for making my first semester here one to remember. You all have bright futures ahead of you. I can’t wait to see your names in print someday.” He beams with pride as he glances around the room. “You��ve made me very proud.” His eyes lock with mine. “Thank you for changing my life.” He returns his attention back to the rest of the class. “Alright, that’s all I have. You have the rest of the time to complete your last entry. I only have one request: make it special.”

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone got to work. No one came prepared with something at his request. I of course ignored that but stayed regardless. I wanted to be the last one out. I had special instructions for him and didn’t want anyone else around to hear them. To pass the time, I read and re-read my letter to him, going over everything with a fine-toothed comb to make sure it was perfect.

I sneak a glimpse at the man who stole my heart to see he was already looking at me.

He holds up a sheet of paper: “Final after this?” I smile at the reference to our first class. I shake my head just as I had that day. With my next final not until 2, I’ve got plenty of time. He immediately flips the page over to reveal his pre-written answer: “Be the last one out.” I nod once before turning my attention back to my letter. Now more than before I was excited to give it to him. My only fear was he wouldn’t understand my hidden message.

It was an hour and a half before we were the last two in the room.

“I’m getting a sense of déjà vu.” I comment when the door closes.

“Except you’re not crying this time.” He points out with a smirk on his gorgeous face. I chuckle remembering the day like it was yesterday. He comes to sit on the step right next to my aisle seat.

“As soon as I hand you this,” I clench the piece of paper in between my fingers, “you’re no longer my professor.”

“Finally.” He whispers under his breath.

“I just have one request.” He nods. “You wait until 4 to read it.” He starts to protest. “You have to promise me you won’t even peek at it until 4 o’clock on the dot.”

He runs his fingers through his hair, “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He then runs his hands over his face, sighing, “I will be thinking about it all damn day.”

I giggle, putting away my other stuff. “That was kind of the point.” As we stand up, I hand him my paper. He keeps his eyes on mine as he took possession of it. I can tell how badly he wants to look down. I hold out my pinkie. “Promise me.” He intertwines his pinkie with mine, sealing his promise to me. With that, I leave the classroom.

I don’t see Lizzie or Sebastian until 4 when all of our finals are finished for the day. By then I have half an hour to go home and get ready for tonight. I have to be at the bar before 5. If all goes according to plan, it could be a night to remember. In case something goes wrong, I have Liz and Seb as back-ups. I just hope nothing goes awry. They wish me good luck while pushing me out the door.

As I pull up to Robert’s, I head in to give whoever is working the bar the low-down on what is going to happening. Thankfully, it was Robert so I know he’ll be thrilled to help.

“Oh that guy who comes in every Wednesday? He’ll for sure be here.” He says this like it’s not a big deal when in fact, it is. “He comes in here hoping to see you.”

“So you had me work on a Wednesday night knowing he would be here?” I’m in shock. I’m flabbergasted. He purposely asked me to work on the one night he knew Chris would be looking for me. “Were the other bartenders even sick?”

He only chuckles before returning to his job. Well that’s my answer. “What do you need me to do?”

“Clear out?” I give him a hopeful smile knowing how big my request is. I’m putting all of my faith in his soft spot for me.

He sighs, “He means that much to you?”

I nod. “I honestly think he could.”

“Alright,” He sighs again, “but you’ll owe me big time.” Just like in the movies, he shouts that the bar is closed and all of their food and drinks are on him for the night. Before the chef leaves, he makes two Skippy burgers and two orders of deep fried green beans for us, wishing me luck.

From there, I wait. I wait on the exact bar stool where sparks flew while walls came tumbling down. That night replays in my mind as if it had just happened: the way the conversation between us flowed as if we had known each other all of our lives instead of a mere hour; how being around him felt like the most natural thing in the world; everything about him made me feel like we were meant to be in each other’s lives… he made me feel like I was home. I held onto that feeling as I eagerly await his arrival.

To keep my mind from completely freaking out, I take out my notebook to continue writing in my story. Oddly enough it’s the same story I was writing in three months ago. I dive right in, zoning out everything else around me.

“Whatchya writin’?”

I have to bite my lip to keep myself calm. He figured it out. He’s here. I meet his beautiful baby blues. He smirks at me from the next seat over, exactly where he was the first time I saw him. He dawns more formal wear this time though. His classroom vest and tie combo is removed, leaving the white button-up and adding a jacket. He looks just as gorgeous, if not even more so, than the first time. My heart smiles knowing he is here. He kept his word.

“Just jotting down all of the ways I could fall in love with everyone in this bar and make it last forever…” And I plan on making that come true…

He gets off his stool, coming up to me spinning my stool to face him. He steps between my legs, locking eyes with me. “Oh yeah? What are some of those ways?”

I slightly exaggerate a gasp, “A true romantic never reveals their methods.” He quirks his eyebrow at me. “But how about I show you instead?”

“Deal.”

He brings his lips to mine as if welcoming them back to where they belong. Because they do. We belong together. He belongs with me and I to him. I know that. I accept that now. There’s nothing holding us back anymore… and I believe that’s how fate would have had it.

Chapter Six- Fate

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @naniky

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magicallygrimmwiccan · 6 years

Text

It’s Just A Little White Lie

Summary: Everything had been going so well for Lodec lately. It only made logical sense that everything went horribly, horribly wrong at once.

Notes: Written for @fangirltothefullest with permission. This was supposed to be less than 2K words, what happened Note the trigger warnings, here, guys: Blood, broken bones, torture, choking, restraints, electrocution, panic attacks, mentions of child murder Please enjoy!

Everything had been going so well for me lately. It only made logical sense that everything went horribly, horribly wrong at once. The day started like normal— well, my new normal, at least— with me being woken up by a loud crash from downstairs. Most likely Vercei or Virgil had knocked something over. With sleep a lost cause at this point, I climbed out of my bed and tried to get started on my morning routine. I spent my normal allotted time of fifteen minutes ensuring that my hair was presentable and that my clothes were perfectly neat. As the final touch, I slid my sea-foam-tinted glasses onto my face and exited my room, bracing myself for the chaos that I knew would await me.

I was correct in my assumptions. Virgil and Vercei were once again wrestling around on the floor, and the remnants of one of someone’s mugs littered the floor nearby, a testament to their ongoing battle. I carefully sidestepped the mess; neither of them noticed me as I silently made my way into the kitchen. I found a pot of tea still warm on the stove, and discovered it was Earl Grey upon inspection. Satisfied, I grabbed my pine-cone-themed mug and poured myself some tea before contemplating what I should do next. Should I sit at the kitchen table and wait for the others, inevitably ending up socializing? Should I go and ensure that Virgil and Vercei did not cause more destruction in the midst of their tousle? Should I go find another person and just spend time with only them? Or should I retreat to my room and spend the day reading in solitude?

My dilemma was answered for me, however, when Progic swept into the kitchen. The second his eyes landed on me and a wildfire began to burn even deeper in their depths, I knew I was in trouble.

“Ah! Lodec! Just the person I wanted to find!” Progic sang, clapping one of his hands on my shoulder. I flinched a bit, still not used to friendly contact after years of torment or shunning.

What do you need me for? I signed. Progic sighed and removed his hand from my shoulder, a flicker of something I couldn’t identify swimming in the depths of his blue-red eyes.

“Moric, Viran, and I were going to head out for a fun day, and we were wondering if you’d like to join us,” Progic offered, a small smile gracing his face. I bit my lip and pondered the offer. On the one hand, I didn’t have any issues with any of those Progic had mentioned. On the other, I hadn’t left the house, out of both fear of judgement and fear of harming others. Would this little excursion be worth it?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to!” Progic quickly added on, noticing my slight… hesitancy. “We all just thought… you know, the fusions containing Logic… could all hang out for a bit, you know?” I bit my lip and contemplated it for another few seconds before lifting my hands.

I will join you. It sounds interesting. Progic breathed out a sigh of relief at my answer before grinning.

“Great! We’re leaving in half an hour. Make yourself presentable. We’re all wearing different clothes.” With that, Progic ruffled my hair and left, humming to himself under his breath. I just stood there like an idiot, trying to process what had just happened and figure out what exactly I had just agreed to. I wandered back up to my room after finishing my tea, lost in a fog. I had willingly agreed to go out in public. Without Patteit. Where I could be judged by normal people. I locked the door behind me and inhaled deeply through my nose before slowly letting the coolish air out. I couldn’t focus on that right now. Right now, I could focus on getting ready. I glanced down at my usual attire and cringed as I thought of the reactions I’d get. The cloak was… a bit too morbid. And I looked entirely too much like an undertaker with the rest of the outfit. Perhaps… a change for today’s excursion? I went to my closet and riffled through my clothing, trying to choose what to wear. Everything I owned was either too formal or too disturbing. I finally found acceptable clothing, though, and I let out a shaky smile. I would look like a fool, but at least I probably wouldn’t scare anyone.

A knock at my door half an hour later roused me from my preparations. I fixed my glasses one more time before opening the door, squeezing my eyes shut as I braced myself for judgement.

“Aw, Lodec! Is that the sweater I made you for Christmas?” Moric’s soft voice asked. I opened my eyes a sliver to see Moric beaming at me, obviously pleased to see that I actually wore his Christmas sweater. The large yet soft sweater in shades of heather greys and blues offered me a comfort that I hadn’t expected, and when paired with a pair of worn jean shorts, I felt more at peace than I had in awhile. I had somehow found a set of blue and grey striped knee-high socks to pair with the sweater, and had managed to dig out a set of black high top Converse to complete the outfit. Overall, I looked ridiculous, but my nerves had been soothed a bit. Honestly, I don’t remember how most of this made its way into my closet. Magic, probably, or Patteit attempting to make sure I had non-formal things in my closet.

Yes it is, I signed in response to Moric. Then, hesitantly: Is this outfit… acceptable?

“Acceptable? No, not yet,” Moric answered. My heart hammered in my chest, but Moric held up a finger for me to wait before vanishing back into his room. He came back a few seconds later, a pair of black suspenders in his hand. He shoved them in my direction, beaming. “Put these on, then it’s perfect.” I did, confused and a little touched. Moric was lending me his suspenders. He never let people touch his clothing. When I was done, Moric cocked his head to the side, grin wider than I’d ever seen it. “Do you have everything? Phone, keys in case you want to come back early, wallet, all that stuff?” I nodded, and Moric beamed before grabbing my hand. “Great! Let’s go then!” With that, he dragged me out of my room and down the stairs, leaving me confused and slightly terrified of the others’ judgement. Moric was known for his… questionable… fashion sense, and what would the others say?

“Oh! He’s actually coming! Hi Lodec! Love the outfit! It looks really comfy,” Viran called as soon as Moric and I came into view of he and Progic. Viran was wearing his usual outfit, not surprising, but Progic surprised me. Gone were the lab coat and goggles and heeled boots; instead, Progic had opted for something that looked closer to normal. He wore a collared button-up rolled up to his elbows, black skinny jeans, and combat boots. Instead of his usual goggles, sunglasses rested atop his head, and I wasn’t sure if he was wearing makeup or if I was imagining it, but his top two eyes seemed to pop even more than usual.

Thank you, Viran, I signed, hoping that Viran actually knew sign. I was in the process of teaching Patteit, but I knew that Moric, Vercei, Progic, Moxie, and Creaity knew it. Could Viran understand me?

“No prob, L,” Viran shrugged, adjusting his tie nervously. I noticed that he was wearing a bow tie instead of a normal tie, and my heart swelled with… something. If Viran was willing to step outside his comfort zone, even a little, why shouldn’t I?

“Well, then, shall we get this show on the road? There’s this great open-air market that I think we all may enjoy checking out. What do you all say?” Progic loudly asked, clapping two of his hands together. Viran and I both jumped at the sudden loud noise, and Progic winced. “Sorry Viran, sorry Lodec.” We managed to get out the door without any other mishaps, and that is when I realized that we would be driving. In a car. I hadn’t ever seen or been in any of the cars in Moric’s world, and I was eager to experience it for myself.

“Excited, you dork?” Viran asked, noticing my relaxed posture. I nodded, two of my hands squeezing together to try and still the tremors. Moric and Progic wouldn’t want to hear all of my questions (well, hear wasn’t perhaps the right word here) and honestly? It wasn’t that important in the grand scheme of things. Something flashed through Viran’s violet-blue eyes and he squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, Moric and Progic will listen to whatever you want to ask or say. Don’t worry about it so much.” I nodded, not quite believing Viran’s words, and his lips pursed before he called “Hey, Progic? Wanna explain the combustion engine to Lodec?” Progic spun around, his eyes lit up, and proceeded to rattle off facts about how cars on Moric’s world worked at 100 kilometers per hour. The ride into town was much more enjoyable, and I actually got to learn quite a bit about how transportation in this world worked. We arrived in town fairly quickly, and Progic only stopped his excited babbling when we entered the market, instead letting Moric take over showing me all the fruits, vegetables, and food that I didn’t have back on my homeworld. Moric finally managed to convince me to buy something small, a thin gold chain with a dark blue sapphire and gold pendant, and we had to practically drag Progic away from the market before he bought everything in sight.

Lunch was the biggest test of my nerves and ability to pretend to not be terrified of people. I wished I hadn’t agreed to this. Plants were so much easier to deal with when compared to people. Viran seemed to agree, and gently offered a hand for me to hold, which I took gratefully. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only one struggling, and offering Viran support while he gave me the support I silently needed was… comforting. Progic and Moric chose this nice diner and managed to get the four of us a corner booth, something that I greatly appreciated. Unsurprisingly, Progic and Viran ordered coffee, while I ordered Darjeeling tea and Moric ordered green tea while we waited for our food. The waiter gave me a long look filled with… something… when he handed me my tea, but I judged it as ultimately nothing.

That was my first mistake. The glance should have been my first warning sign. The second mistake I made, the second warning sign I ignored, was the surprisingly bitter undercurrent in my tea. I waved it off, however, and dumped more sugar into it. Perhaps the tea had just been steeped for too long. The third warning sign I ignored was the lack of other people in our area of the restaurant. Not only were we seated alone in a back room, the door to the rest of the restaurant seemed to be closed as well. I must have been losing my touch.

Throughout our conversation as we waited for our food to arrive, I found myself growing groggier and groggier. This confused me. I knew I had gotten the optimal amount of sleep the night before, so why was I on the verge of passing out?

“Hey, Lodec. Lodec, buddy, can you open your eyes for me?” I managed to make out before fading out again. Scuffling, shouting, the thump of bodies hitting the floor. All faded in and out. Should I care? I thought I should care.

“-do to him-” “-n’t touch him! I’ll ki-” “-f you lay a hand on him-” I recognized the voices, but I couldn’t find the energy to sit up or see who it was. I surrendered to the cool inky blackness of sleep, wondering if I should actually be concerned but not having any energy left to care.

I woke up slowly, my mind still foggy. My tongue lay heavy in my mouth, and I could barely feel my limbs.

Well, correction. I could barely feel my limbs until one of my arms was snapped like a twig. That immediately woke me up the rest of the way, and if I had had functioning vocal chords, I would have been screaming. My teeth ground together as I tried to stifle the pain, and I felt tears leaking out of my eye.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Now, we can really get started,” an unfamiliar voice drawled above me. I lifted my hands to sign, maybe to ask about what was going on, maybe to start trying to get help, but my hands were immediately yanked back down to my sides by something cold, heavy, and tight. A low, sinister chuckle twisted its way into my ears, a shiver racing down my spine at the sound. A rustle of cloth came from right above my head, and a warm, calloused hand rested itself on my forehead. I flinched. The hand slammed my head back into the table, and I choked slightly on something cold and tight and heavy constricting my neck. I stared up into a set of cold, hard emeralds, and my stomach sank even further. I knew the look in those orbs. I could figure out what was coming next.

“You killed my daughter, you monster. Now, I’m going to do to you what you did to her.” I opened my mouth (useless, why is that still an instinct in my stupid, useless, worthless body), maybe to ask why, maybe to beg for forgiveness, maybe to ask about their daughter, when my limbs seized up and pain became my whole being. Fire raced through my veins, my spine, my muscles, my nerves. White filled my vision, spots of black dancing and weaving in hypnotic swirls. My broken arm shrieked with every thrash of my body, and I dimly registered warm, thick, viscous fluids running across my skin to drip off the edge of my fingers. Ice and fire battled for dominance in my body, and I was quickly becoming the loser in this scenario. It would have been so easy for me to slip away, to surrender to the alluring siren song of inky darkness, but something, some small flicker of fire in my soul, kept me from giving in. I was still losing, though. Losing the fight between the ice and fire, losing the fight to stay awake, losing the fight to stay out of the dark, losing the fight to still have hope. A distant part of me giggled in vindictive glee. This is what you get, it whispers, for tormenting all those people. Soon, though, even that voice was wiped away and the only thing left was an endless litany of thoughts:

Make it stop, I’m sorry, it hurts, I’m sorry, make it stop, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…

A loud crash, the sound of glass shattering, yelling, screaming, a wet thwack, a cool, soothing hand on my face. Voices, all jumbled together, two frantic sets of hands working on my wrists and ankles while another hand smooths itself through my hair. The touch burns and I contemplated asking the person to stop, but at the same time it felt so good and I was tired. I felt my arms fall limply towards the floor as they were freed, and my whole body almost followed before I was roughly stopped by the cold heavy thing around my neck. The jumbled voices all picked up in tempo and pitch (panic, a little voice whispered, they’re worried about you) and the set of hands that had been in my hair moved to my face, softly wiping away warm liquid. More scuffles and yelling came from somewhere far away, and after a few moments of that, the pressure around my neck was released and I felt myself being carefully lifted into the air before the person carrying me began to walk. I managed to last for one step before the burning pain in my arm won and I succumbed to the sweet release of unconsciousness.

“What exactly happened to him– them– her– whatever?”

“We don’t need to think about that right now, guys. What matters is being here for… him… when he wakes up.”

“I’m going to track down the people who did this to him and murder them all in their sleep.”

“Violence is not the answer here, Roxas…”

“Of course it is! I don’t care how justified they thought they were! He was forced to do that shit, he didn’t want to! Plus, that’s no excuse to do… to do… that!”

I cracked my eyes open, having been awoken by the whispers that had quickly morphed into yelling. I couldn’t quite place who the voices belonged to, but I cared more about figuring out my surroundings at the moment. I tried to sit up to get a better assessment; my torso and three of my arms protested heavily, and I let out an involuntary air-whimper at the scorching heat racing through my midsection. The voices immediately stopped talking, and I felt a rush of displaced air as multiple people came to stand by my side. I opened my eyes the rest of the way, taking a few moments to allow them to adjust to the light. The blood rushed out of my cheeks the second my brain began to register what my eyes were seeing, and my breathing became a fast staccato, causing my ribs to squeal in pain.

My family. My family was here, in my room (I’d managed to register that this was my room through the growing panic… somehow), in another world, staring at me. My family was here, waiting for me to wake up. My family was here, and now they could find out exactly how much of a monster I’d become.

“Hey… Lodec, right? How you doing, buddy?” T asked, smiling down at me. My throat clenched tighter and I began to shake, my legs curling up in front of my chest in an effort to appear smaller and defend my torso. My heart hammered in my chest and warm, wet tracks of liquid began to stream down my face as my tremors increased in frequency and violence.

“Lodec? Buddy? I need you to look at me, okay?” T firmly requested, hands reaching out to rest on my shoulders. I flinched back, overwhelmed. They were all secretly judging me, they all hated me, they couldn’t be here I couldn’t deal with them being here they needed to know that I was sorry and that I didn’t want them to hurt me so please just leave me alone make it stop I’m sorry everything is too much I’m sorry please give me space I can’t breathe I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…

Someone quickly, gently, firmly grabbed my only non-injured hand and wrapped it between their two large, warm hands. I flinched, warm salty tracks racing even faster down my face.

“Lodec. Sweetie. I need you to calm down and speak up,” P murmured, releasing one of his hands from mine to wipe the tears off of my face. “What’s going on?” This tender statement just made me cry harder. I couldn’t fulfill his request. I was a failure. This was just another hint of the monster that I’d become. P tried to soothe me, but I just shook my head and kept crying, the hand held in Patton’s grip twitching into half-hearted signs of my thought process. I felt someone leave the room and my sobs renewed themselves as I buried as far under my blankets as I could. They’d abandoned me. They’d realized how awful and truly despicable I’d become and had left me.

I sensed two bodies slip into the room, and one of them came to sit right next to me. I buried my head deeper into my knees against my chest, and I felt a light tapping on my head.

Lodec, it’s Moric, the person tapped out in Morse code. I shakily pulled my hand out of P’s grip and weakly signed, I’m sorry I lost your suspenders. And the sweater you made me. Moric made a choking noise and managed to croak out, “It’s just a pair of suspenders, Lodec. I can always get new ones. Plus, I was meaning to make you a new sweater anyway.” I glanced up to meet Moric’s eyes through my watery gaze to find him smiling kindly down at me.

If you’re sure… I signed. Moric huffed and signed back, Of course. You’re much more important than a few pieces of clothing. I let out a shaky, watery grin at that, and Moric beamed before opening his arms slightly as an invitation for a hug. I slowly sank into it and allowed Moric to calm me down in that magic way of his, with his soothing words and terrible jokes and warmth. I felt my family watching, but I tried to ignore them, far more focussed on Moric at this point.

Finally, he pulled away and turned to face my family. “Let’s get started, shall we? Anything you have to say to Lodec?” R, ever the bold one, figuratively stepped forward first.

“Lolo. Dorian. None of us have any idea what happened to you two after you were taken away. None of us ever expected to see you two again. But we’d just like you two to know that we care, and we’re here for you, and that I will hunt down the people who just fucking tortured you because that was not okay.”

“Roxas,” V groaned, rolling their eyes, before they fixed me with their piercing glare. It had somehow become more intimidating than I remember it being. “Lolo. Dorian. Or Lodec. Whichever you prefer to be addressed as. I’m with Roxas on this one in that we care, we’re here for you, and that those people had no right to kidnap and torture you. However, I would like to hear the full story from you.” I flinched but nodded slightly, and V nodded in acknowledgement before turning the conversation over to P.

He (they? She?!) leaned forward and grabbed my hand again. Moric looked about ready to jump in and help me out, but I shook my head to make him back off. “Lodec,” P began. “I’m worried for you. I want the best for you. And honestly? I want you to come home. But if that is going to be bad for you, then I want you to stay here. We were all just worried about you, sweetie.” I felt more tears welling up in my eyes, and Moric reached over to brush them away before I turned to look at T, who was giving me a look full of love and warmth and acceptance.

“Lodec. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. The others have basically summed everything up perfectly, but all I have to say is this: You will always, and I mean always, have a place in this family. In almost any case, we’d embrace you, and I promise you, no one here hates you or will ever hate you. Got it?” I nodded, and Moric smiled softly at my family before turning to me.

“You have anything to say?” he asked quietly, eyes soft behind his heart-shaped glasses. I took a deep breath and nodded, lifting my one working hand, and began to sign.

“I don’t think I’m ready to tell you about what happened to me when I was taken,” Moric translated, “and I’m not sure if I ever will be. Thank you for caring about me, but I don’t think I’ll be coming back with you. You wouldn’t like the person you’d find after a while.” I lowered my hand, convinced that that was the end of the conversation, when V stood up and glared at me.

“Yeah, no,” they hissed. “That’s not gonna cut it. I want to know exactly what caused you to end up strapped to a madman’s torture table with him accusing you of killing his daughter.” They started to stalk towards me, and I shrunk back against the headboard, feeling extremely cornered and panicked. Moric stood up and placed himself between V and I, arms crossed and a frown adorning his face. “What happened, Lolo? What happened to you?”

Memories flashed through my brain and across my eyes as I tried desperately to put as much space between V and I as possible. The guards, the soldiers, marching into the camp, the shocks, the burns, the pain, the people, all those people and the children dear stars the children were the worst and he just wanted it all to stop stoP STOP STOP S T O P…

Ripping, tearing, burning, a scream, and then everything just… stopped.

Dorian groaned and sat up, rubbing his head. He felt like he'd been run over by a tank. It took him a moment to realize that he was Dorian and not Lodec, and that sent him into a panic. Where was Lolo?

That question was answered extremely quickly when Dorian’s ears started to work. The sound of panicked breathing came from his left, and he looked over to find Lolo curled up into a little ball rocking back and forth. Dorian quickly scrambled over, hissing as he accidentally put pressure on his broken arm. He ignored the pain; Lolo was more important. He reached his… person… and gently placed his unbroken arm on one of Lolo’s shoulders.

“Hey, Lolo, could you please look at me?” Dorian murmured, gently rubbing Lolo’s shoulder. Lolo finally looked up, sniffing, tears streaming down his face. A rustle of fabric came from behind Dorian, accompanied by an opening and closing of the door. Someone must have left, but Dorian couldn’t bring himself to care; Lolo was infinitely more important. Dorian began to softly hum, some old, nameless tune that he heard somewhere and had remembered. Lolo slowly relaxed a bit, his tears slowing but not stopping, and Dorian almost spiraled back into a panic. How was he supposed to help?!

That question was answered for him with the appearance of Viran and the reappearance of Moric, the latter of which went to shepherd their family out of the room. Viran, meanwhile, crouched down next to Lolo and smiled softly.

“Hey, buddy. Heard it’s been a rough day,” Viran murmured. Lolo nodded, and Viran pulled his hoodie from around his waist and handed it to Lolo. In response to his confused look, Viran explains: “For if you don’t think you can fuse back right now, it’s something to comfort you at least.” Lolo sniffed and pushed it back at Viran, standing up on wobbly legs and walking towards Dorian.

“I… shall we try?” Lolo mumbled, his voice still clogged with tears. Dorian nodded and gently took Lolo’s hand, allowing the sensation of fusion to wash over him as…

I woke with a start to find Viran giving me a concerned, caring look while he tied his hoodie around his waist. “You good now, Lodec?” Viran asked softly. I nodded and, after a moment of contemplation, lifted my one unbroken arm to sign Thank you. “No problem,” Viran replied, shrugging. “You wanna go down and talk to your family or no?” My breath caught in my throat at the mention of them, and Viran tensed up again, probably thinking that he’d done something horribly, horribly wrong.

You’re fine, Viran, I’m just… let’s get this over with, I signed, frantic to soothe Viran’s anxieties. Viran relaxed a bit, but instead of being anxious, he was now clearly in protection mode.

“Lodec. Are you sure?” I nodded, and he sighed heavily before walking over to the door and opening it, gesturing for me to go downstairs. I followed the cryptid-hunter down the stairs to find Patteit and Anvity glaring down my family.

“I’m sorry, but why would you think that demanding he tell you every little detail about his trauma is okay?!” Anvity was yelling, his voice edging on a roar. I trembled a bit, but Viran squeezed my shoulder in support. I took a deep breath and entered the room. Anvity stopped yelling the second he saw me and almost seemed to deflate a bit, his hands twitching in an aborted movement towards me. V noticed and turned around, guilt swirling in their violet eyes.

“You doing better, Lo?” they whispered, causing the rest of my family to spin around. I nodded, and V nodded, and both of us seemed to instantly come to some form of understanding. My one functioning arm lifted to sign, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, when Patteit also noticed me and practically vaulted over the couch to tackle me into a hug.

“You’re awake and alive and I’m so happy I’m sorry I wasn’t there to get you are you okay,” they rushed out with one head (obviously Truther), as the other head was too preoccupied with sobbing their eyes out. I hugged back and gave both heads a short kiss before wriggling my one good arm free and signing You’re fine, I’m okay, I love you too. They giggled and pulled away from the hug after one last squeeze, obviously mindful of my ribcage.

“Erm… what did he just say?” R broke in, confusion colouring his voice. My blood chilled a bit. Of course. Of course my family didn’t understand sign, I would have to unfuse to communicate, oh stars…

“Need a translator?” Viran offered, leaning against the couch. Tears of love and joy leaked from my eye and I nodded, beginning to slowly sign what had happened after I had been cruelly taken away. They all listened to Viran’s translation, and when he and I both began to falter as I began to explain Gancei, Anvity took over, his smooth British lilt taking some of the edge off of the horrifying things I described. Eventually, I finished, and silence descended upon the room. P, R, and T all stood up, but V beat them to my position. I barely even had time to blink before the anxious side pulled me into a tight hug. I let out a surprised huff, and then my family all rushed in to join the hug, leaving me hopelessly confused and crying in the centre of this pile of love and affection. I felt my hand signing the same thing over and over and over again, and Viran leaned over to whisper what it meant into T’s ear. He let out a watery grin and simply said, “We love you too, Lo.”

Somehow we ended up on the ground, still hugging, and my tears were finally starting to slow. The rest of my fam-friends had been giving us space, something I much appreciated. Finally, I started to try and wriggle out of the pile, and my family released me, understanding that I wanted out.

“So… we’re going to need some time to process, sweetie…” P murmured. My heart climbed its way into my throat, but V jumped in to soothe my worries.

“We’ll be back in like, two weeks, okay? Just giving you some space and time, and then we can have a proper chat about where to go from here, okay?” I nodded, and my family all stood up to give some tearful goodbyes before leaving me alone. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder, and I glanced back to see Patteit, smiling sadly.

“Hey, sweetie, how you doing?” Truther whispered. I quickly signed back Okay, and their arms wrapped a little tighter around me. “We’ve got something for you in your room, when you feel ready to come up.” I pushed myself to my feet and gave Patteit a shaky smile, curious as to what could possibly be waiting for me. Most likely nothing too bad; I couldn’t see anyone in this house being purposefully cruel to me. I followed Patteit up to my room and braced myself before opening my door.

Progic was the first to look up when I entered, a small smile dimpling his cheeks when he saw me. “Hey, Lo, how you feeling?” he asked, his normal boisterous tone missing from his voice. I shrugged, and he nodded in understanding. Moric gave me a soft smile and two thumbs up as I walked in, while Viran fidgeted with a lump of black fluff in his lap. Probably one of his guinea pigs.

“Erm… Lodec… we have… someone we’d like you to meet,” Viran mumbled before standing up and presenting me with the ball of black fluff. My breath hitched as I stared into the wide green eyes of the small kitten. My good arm twitched out, some instinct whispering that I should pet the kitten, and Viran’s face broke into a tiny grin.

“Her name is Sasha,” Viran whispered. I nodded, and Viran walked closer. “She’s yours.” I paused, blinking. I… had a cat? I couldn’t have a cat. Living things were not for me to take care of. All I knew was how to destroy life, not cultivate it. Well, unless it was plants. But I couldn’t be trusted with a cat!

“You’ll do fine, Lodec. If you need help, we’re here. She just reminded all of us of you, and you’re always talking about how much you love cats, so we all figured… sorry, it’s a stupid idea, don’t think anything of it,” Viran rambled, starting to retract the set of arms holding the kitten. I shot my hand out and wrapped it around his wrist, already signing No, wait, it’s okay, I love her, thank you. Viran paused and giggled a little before gently settling Sasha into my arms. I panicked, scared I would drop her or break her or harm her in some way, but Moric murmured “You’re not going to break her, Lodec, it’s okay” from behind me, in that Soothing Dad Voice that worked wonders whenever he chose to use it. I settled down a little, still tense, and allowed Sasha’s purring to soothe the rest of my nerves.

“We’re here, Lodec. We’ll figure all of this out,” Progic stated firmly, a fire shining deep in his eyes. I nodded, tears clogging my throat, feeling the love and support of my second family surrounding me. I knew I couldn’t escape my past. I knew I couldn’t even begin to make up for the horrible things that I’d done. But here, in this moment, at least for a little bit, everything was perfect.

Notes: Thank you for reading! A special thank you again to Tashi for letting me torture her wonderful fusions :) Please go show her some love, and I’ll see you next time!

@ask-the-fusions I seriously hope you liked this, Star and Tashi~

#sanders sides #lodec sanders #check notes for tw #tashi's fusions

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