#keep in mind i only write for fun and i personally do mostly emotion-based pieces rather than plot-heavy content?

[honesttoblogjuno]

Hope your doing well Juno!! As someone who loves your writing process, what is your process for writing Enid? And how has that changed since concentrate and ask again to TSN (Greek tragedy being in the middle) ❤️

Hello anon!! 🫶 thank you for your question!! I’ll answer under the cut!

And p.s. for anyone reading, I unfortunately am going through some tough personal circumstances at the moment and so the upcoming chapter is delayed for a little while until I’m emotionally competent enough to write intimate moments without having a tiny mental breakdown! I appreciate all of your patience! I have fallen victim to the ao3 author curse of everything going wrong in my life at once 😌

I think that, for me, the best writing is the type that can draw from real life to bring some of those everyday spices to the flavour of the description! So, when I write, I try to write what I know, even in circumstances that are purely fictional.

In that way, I find I think more like Wednesday and my natural speech is more like Enid’s! So, I have a lot of fun writing her dialogue, because it feels more true to my actual use of language. When I’m writing her, I try to imagine what the lines sound like spoken out loud, and if they sound natural to what a teenage girl/bubbly adult woman would say, including filler and natural pauses. For her thought process and memories, I try to remember key moments that show her emotional range from the canon material so she doesn’t get flattened into a golden retriever character.

She’s had a tough life being what the Wednesday universe would call a medically complicated child, being the only daughter and youngest child, and having parents with high expectations for her. And, being a werewolf adds a social challenge to her childhood in a world full of non-outcasts as well. I try to keep those things in mind and ask myself WWED, and I usually come to the conclusion that she would try to spin the best out of what she has but know where to draw the line! She’s a much more complex character than I think fanon syndrome has eroded her into, so I like to add even more dimension where I can.

Overall, to keep the characterisations consistent, I try to find evidence in the canon material for every move I make. If there isn’t a direct parallel, I try to find evidence that can reasonably support an extrapolation. For example, we’ve seen Enid emotionally react with a pretty broad range of things. We’ve seen face-in-the-pillow exaggerated crying, humiliation-turned-anger violent outbursts, quiet disappointment, sting covered by deliberate optimism, justified last-straw frustration, and even vulnerable understated crying. I try to remember what age I’m writing her at for any given story and use those types of supporting evidence to age her up or down based on what I know about the process of emotional maturing!

Another key piece is pop culture and social media references. The fanfiction paradox is that every story for a contemporary setting has to take place in the present day because, even in TSN where they are like 12 years in the future from the canon, I can only make her modern by referencing what is current now. Even with that plot hole aside, it’s fun finding little ways to slip colloquialisms and references into her thoughts and dialogue!

When I wrote CAAG, I didn’t pay much attention to being super true to their characters. I wrote the story on a total whim over a couple of days mostly just for fun, so I wasn’t dedicated to making sure it was a truthful portrayal of them. I just used my gut instinct to write what I thought they might do and say.

But, for TSN, I dedicated a lot more time to really thinking through how they’d act in different circumstances outside the canon, and then how they’d act if they were adult women with years of emotional development under their belts. Where Wednesday might have made a sharp but terrifically mean comment or sabotaged something when the cover was leaked in the canon, maybe she would have gained the ability to just walk away. And, just maybe, she would have learned to attend to Enid’s feelings during that whole process too. That sort of thing!

For Greek Tragedy, I’m doing that same sort of thought process, but scaling them back down again. I’m most intimately familiar with a version of them that I invented for their aged-up story, so I’m trying to find a realistic middle ground! Having a beta reader has also been really helpful because if I’m not sure I’ve nailed it, I have a second opinion to weigh in!

I hope this answered your question, and thanks so much for sending it!!

[foundry-fabrications]

Future of the Foundry

The Foreman stands above a piece of machinery, his fists clenched around a large hammer, arms held high for a strike. He waivers, unsure of his actions. A surge of anger floods through him as memories of greed and deception return to him, causing his to grip to tighten as he brings the raised hammer down. But before the blow connects, more thoughts enter his mind. Memories of satisfied customers and the joy his creations bring them. He relaxes, letting the hammer drop to his side as he gazes upon dozens of other machines, a smile on his lips.

The Foreman returns to his workshop and grabs a dusty catalog from a long forgotten corner of the room. The Foundry only had tooling for producing Coastal Wizard items, but perhaps it was time that changed. He flips though through the booklet, eyes scanning the pages. Golarion. Ironlander. Weyland. Cypher. Countless companies, each offering tooling and licenses for manufacturing, and each less restrictive than his previous supplier. “Well then, looks like I better make a few calls…”

Hello again friends. It’s been over a week since we last spoke and in that time I’ve done a lot of thinking. When I made my last post, I was in a pretty bad place. I was on the verge of tears more than once writing it, and when discussing my decision to cut ties with D&D with my friends. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m an incredibly emotional person and I often have trouble regulating those emotions, especially when things I love are involved. This has gotten me into trouble in the past and will likely do so again in the future, but I’m working on it. I’ve made many poor decisions based on my own fickle feelings and I believe this is no exception. I should have stayed quiet, taken time to think, talk it over with those I trust. Could have, should have, would have, didn’t.

I will say, however, making that decision was oddly freeing. A certain clarity that comes from detachment. Cutting ties with the game allowed me to think clearly as I no longer had any stake in the situation. But I still love the game, nothing will ever change that, and I heard someone say amidst the chaos of it all something that really hit home for me: Don’t let WotC’s greed ruin the game we love. It is clear WotC can’t be trusted so it’s up to us to make sure this wonderful game gets the love and support it deserves while making sure WotC doesn’t get a cent of profit from it. We made this game what it is today and we’ll keep it that way, with or without them.

So, as one can probably guess from my shift in tone, I’m not done with 5e anymore, as a player or content creator. I'm going to continue making content for 5e just as I always have, regardless of how this OGL situation turns out. WotC may be trying to control D&D, but they won't control me. If I ever start selling my content, however, things might change, but for now it will be business as usual. I will, however, be alternating between 5e content and other systems as I explore them. I’ve wanted to play other games and make content for them for a long time and going forward I really want to diversify my content both in terms of what I produce and in what form it's produced. This will be a year of change, growth, and diversity for the Foundry and I couldn't be more excited.

So what can you all expect from me in the future? The homebrew content will continue, but spread across multiple system, namely 5e, Pathfinder 2e, Starfinder, and Ironsworn. They’re currently the systems I either have the most experience with or are the most interested in (mostly the latter). It’s unlikely I’ll make content for games outside of those but anything is possible. I just don’t see it happening anytime soon.

On the topic of other systems, I want to start spotlighting other games that I find interesting. There are thousands of wonderful RPGs out there and I want to share some of them with you and my thoughts on them. I’ll talk about their rules, any fun systems, whatever world they have, that sort of thing. I figure these will be things I can post in between projects.

Speaking of projects, what do I want to work on next? Well sadly, my latest project that I've been working on was a commission and both my client and I decided to scrap it so that project is dead, for now at least. Now free to work on whatever, I would love to release something in honor of the upcoming Dead Space remake, which I could not be more excited for. But on such short notice, I can't do anything too crazy if I want to release in time. After that, I have a big project I want to work on using another game entirely which I'm very excited for.

Anyway, I'm glad to be back and I'm thankful for the support I've received while away. Things are about to get a lot more interesting around here and I'm hoping you'll all come along for the ride. As always, stay safe, don't forget to love each other, and I'll see again you soon.

[verypup]

some of the most significant writing tips ive picked up over the years (bc i have a lot of friends who write & i dabble in writing myself occasionally) which i wanted to share bc someone may not have heard of some of these and theyve saved my ass numerous times so. hopefully they save your ass too lmao

) copy + paste your rambles to a friend about your story into the doc and consider it a very rough first draft or an outline. (or alternatively, write directly into the doc as if you would write to a friend.) you can edit "this happened and then character A was all like tf and character B was like (meme image)", but you cant edit a blank page! and some people find it more fun to write informally anyway. in my experience, this can also help the finished result feel more lively, because sometimes you keep in the jokes that otherwise wouldn't've been there.

) if you get stuck on a certain scene, or phrase, or anything like that, just skip it. write down [car scene here] or [she packs her suitcase here] or something like that and just keep going. you can always come back to it later; you don't have to write 100% chronologically. better to just keep writing while you have motivation!

) google docs has a voice to text option. it's janky as hell, but i recommend using it if you can - sometimes words come more easily out loud than over text, and like i said, you can edit janky writing, but you cant edit a blank page. this also helps you hear the flow of your words!

) INCLUDE FUN CHARACTER ANTICS IF YOU WANT TO. fuck the whole "delete anything that doesn't serve the plot" thing, it's bullshit. it doesn't have to be chapters upon chapters of goofing off, but including snippets of the shenanigans you think of helps the audience get more attached to your characters (or, in the case of fanfic, the audience is ALREADY attached to the characters like you are and WANTS to see antics like you do). and if your story is overall dark, including a few light moments helps it not be too upsetting to read about, and it makes the upsetting things hit harder. trust me, you can be self-indulgent, your audience will like it.

) if you wanna write a particularly heavy or embarrassing scene (e.g. violence or smut), but feels intimidating, don't directly mention what's happening. for example, when writing gore, don't use words like "guts/organs" or "blood". not only is it a good writing exercise to limit yourself, AND makes it less scary to write hard topics indirectly, but it also helps it come across as more emotional.

good luck with your writing!

[the-bau-quinjet]

I've Always Loved the Rain

Summary: Request! Y/N can manipulate the weather, but sometimes her emotions get the best of her. What happens when Bucky brings his girlfriend to Tony's garden party?

Warnings: nothing except some angst!

Word Count: 2086

a/n: I really did have fun writing this! Thank you for sending it my way :)

Masterlist

"Are you ever going to tell him?" Wanda's thoughts appeared in your head causing your head to snap in her direction. "You've been staring at him for the past ten minutes."

"Actually, it's only been 8 minutes. And, no. I do not plan to ever tell him because that would be wildly embarrassing, and he would hate me forever." Your own thoughts were easily heard by the witch.

Before she could try to convince you, you got up and left the living room. You and Bucky have been friends since you joined the team. Everyone, barring Bucky, has told you how you must be special because Bucky has never trusted anyone as quickly as he started trusting you.

There may have even been a point where you thought he could've possibly returned your feelings, but that was before he started dating Perrie.

"Y/N, you can't keep running away from me." Wanda called out as she approached your room.

"I'm not running. I just have get ready for Tony's party." You rolled your eyes. You've never been one for parties, but you'd rather just go than have to deal with Tony complaining about you missing it.

"Oh, you mean the party Perrie is going to?" Wanda questioned from your doorway.

"Shut up! Someone could hear you." You quickly pulled her into the room, glancing down the hall before closing the door. "I don't care that she's coming. It's fine."

"I know you're pouting, even if you refuse to look at me." Wanda obviously saw right through your bullshit.

"Wan, he's my friend. I just want him to be happy, and if Perrie makes him happy then so be it." You resigned yourself to having to watch Bucky and Perrie together. "Just, promise me you won't say anything."

You nearly begged her, knowing she didn't agree with your method of bottling everything up.

"You're my friend. I want you to be happy too." She tried to avoid your request.

"Wanda, please." You nearly had tears in your eyes. You couldn't make it through this party if Bucky knew about your feelings. "I can't think about it. Tony will kill me if I ruin his perfect weather."

You joined the Avengers after Steve and Nat found you during one of their missions. You saw the two of them trying to sneak into a hydra base, but they had no way of approaching without being spotted.

In a moment of bravery, or stupidity really it could've gone either way, you ran up to them and offered to help. You managed to create enough of a storm that they could get inside without being noticed.

When they came back out, they offered for you to join them figuring someone who could manipulate the weather would be a good teammate to have.

"Oh, Y/N." She pulled you into a hug in an effort to comfort you. "I won't bring it up, I promise." She squeezed you tightly before letting go. "Now, let's pick out an outfit that'll have Barnes regretting not asking you out."

You shook your head at her playful laugh, but agreed with her nonetheless. If this is what it took for her to stay quiet, you'd do it.

-

The sun was still high in the sky when you made it out to join the party. Summer nights always seemed to last forever, the sun not fully setting until nearly 9.

A few clouds dusted the sky, but Tony really did have the perfect weather for his garden party.

You looked around, trying to locate a familiar face. Finally spotting Nat and Wanda, you made your way through the gardens to greet them.

"Y/N, you look incredible!" Nat cheered as you approached.

Wanda convinced you to wear a pale purple two piece set. The classy lace outer layer of your skirt fell to mid calf, the lining ending just above your knee. The top was cropped to end mid stomach. Perfectly matching the skirt, a form fitting lining was covered in a flowy lace layer.

"Thank you. You both look amazing, as usual." Nat wore a black midi dress with a slit. Wanda opted for a flowery yellow dress with buttons up the middle.

You fell into an easy conversation, discussing anything and everything you could think of to keep your mind busy.

"Ladies, looking good!" Sam complimented the three of you as he, Steve, and Vision approached. Vision immediately swept Wanda away to dance.

"You're not so bad yourself, Wilson." You laughed. "Steve, you're very dapper this evening."

"Thank you. Care to dance?" Steve held his hand out for you. Knowing Sam was seconds away from convincing Nat to dance with him, you nodded in agreement.

You couldn't help but smile as he lead you around the dance floor Tony had set up. The party had been going surprisingly well so far.

"You really do look amazing tonight." Steve broke the silence, smiling down at you.

"You're too sweet." You brushed it off, looking over his shoulder as you blushed.

"I mean it." He spun you around, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.

Your smile fell when you spotted Bucky and Perrie by the bar. He wore khakis and a pink button up, something you were certain Perrie picked out to match her pink chiffon dress.

You were shocked to find his eyes on you. He looked sort of angry, but you hadn't the slightest idea why.

"I don't know what Bucky's doing with her." Steve followed your line of sight, commenting on the couple.

"He's happy." You turned away from Bucky, heart aching just from looking at the two of them together. You tried to mask the pain in your voice, but Steve saw through it.

"He's not. He might think he is, but Perrie... she's not right for him."

"What do you mean?" You shouldn't have asked, but you craved more information about Bucky.

"She just doesn't understand him. Not like you do." Steve's words hurt you more than they helped.

"Steve, he chose her." You could feel the tears brewing. You didn't notice as the sky got darker and darker. "I have to go."

You turned to walk away from Steve and the conversation only to walk directly into Perrie.

"I'm so sorry!' You quickly wiped your eyes, avoiding the concerned look Bucky was giving you. He lightly grabbed your elbow when you tried to walk past them

"Y/N?" The way he said your name had you frozen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I, um, I have to go." You pulled your arm from his grasp, again trying to get away.

"No, Y/N-" Bucky's plea for you to talk to him was cut off by Perrie.

"James, we're supposed to be dancing." She whined, pulling on his right arm.

"It's fine, Bucky." Your face contorted into a tight smile. "Dance with your girlfriend." Your vision blurred as you tried to push your way through the crowd.

Nat found you first, pulling you off to the side of the party and gesturing for Wanda to join you both.

"Y/N, what happened?" Natasha tried to coax any bit of information out of you. You ignored the question, focusing instead on trying to control your tears.

Your powers, although you could mostly control them, were tied to your emotions. If what you were feeling manifested itself in the weather, it was almost impossible for you to regain control.

One tear finally fell from your eyes, a matching raindrop falling from the sky.

"Y/N? Why don't we go inside?" You managed a nod, breaths coming out shaky as you tried not to completely lose control.

You were only a few steps from the main entrance to the gardens when everything fell apart.

"Y/N?" Bucky called from a few feet behind you.

Just the sound of his voice caused the delicate balance you had achieved to shatter.

Your tears overflowed, thunder cracking in the sky. The thought of ruining Tony's part only made you cry harder.

The rain fell fast and heavy instantly soaking everyone outside. You stayed frozen, listening as everyone shrieked and ran to get out of the rain.

"You guys should go inside." You spoke softly to Nat and Wanda, gesturing for them to go without you.

"Are you sure?" Nat looked past you at Bucky before meeting your eyes again.

You nodded. "I mean, I'm already soaked." The rain continued to fall mixing with the tears on your cheeks.

They each gave you a quick hug before running to get inside.

"Y/N?" Bucky called again when you still hadn't turned around.

You took a deep breath trying to prepare for this conversation before you turned to face him. He was soaked, his hair sticking to his face despite his efforts to push it off.

"I'm sorry." You whispered so softly, you weren't even sure he could hear it over the rain.

"Don't do that." Bucky shook his head.

"What?" You scrunched your face in confusion.

"Apologize for your feelings." He spoke gently as he walked up to you.

You huffed a laugh. "Well, I was more so apologizing for the rain."

"I've always loved the rain." He shrugged, turning his head up to the sky. He stayed like that for a minute just letting the rain wash over him.

"I think I've always loved you." More tears fell as you admitted the truth. You closed your eyes in an effort to hide from his reaction.

"Y/N, look at me." Bucky pleaded, but you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and shook your head.

"Y/N, please." His hand came up to rest on your cheek, the other resting on your waist. He ran his thumb back and forth over your cheek coaxing you to open your eyes.

Your eyes fluttered open despite your best efforts to keep them closed. You had to blink a few times to clear the raindrops from your eyelashes.

"I love you too."

You searched his eyes for any signs that he was lying, but all you could find was sincerity.

"What about Perrie?" You couldn't help but ask, even if you'd rather forget about her entirely.

"I broke up with her the second she whined about me trying to make sure you were okay."

"You broke up with her because of me?" Your mouth fell open, eyes trained on Bucky's. He nodded sheepishly, but maintained eye contact.

"You're the most important person in the world to me. I probably should've realized what that meant sooner." He looked down, a pink tint blossoming on his cheeks. "She was actually the one who pointed out to me that I'm in love with you..."

"She said that?" Your jaw dropped even farther.

"Yeah. It was really Steve agreeing with her that clued me in though."

"You really love me?" You felt the need to verify what you had already heard. The rain lessening to a slight drizzle went unnoticed by both of you.

"I really, really do." He still held your face in his hand, now leaning his forehead against your own.

"Say it again." You whispered.

"I love you." He said the words quietly, but the meaning behind them was deafening.

"I love you too."

Your lips collided in a passionate kiss, years of hidden emotion coming out.

The rain clouds disappeared entirely, the sun set now visible in bright shades of pink and orange.

You finally pulled back when the need for air overcame your need for Bucky.

Your smile faded slightly, eyes showing a slight fear. Bucky noticed immediately, his own nerves growing.

"What's wrong?"

You gestured to the now empty gardens.

Aside from everything being soaked, the wind did a number on the decorations. Tables and chairs were overturned, plates and glasses smashed on the ground. The lanterns that had been hung were now strew across the ground in various states of destruction.

"Tony's going to be so mad at me!"

"He'll forgive you." Bucky stated with confidence.

"How can you be so sure?" You eyed him with furrowed brows, still nervous about facing Tony.

"He's forgiven worse, Doll. Trust me." Bucky eagerly awaited the moment you understood what he was saying.

Your eyes went wide, mind blanking on how to respond. That is, until Bucky smiled brightly at you.

"You've always told me joking about it can help. Figured I'd give it a try."

The two of you burst out laughing before slowly making your way inside, hand in hand and soaking wet.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan

[missingn000]

hi, it's messeduplittlebastard from your frequent commentors back on ao3! i havent really asked you anything over on tumblr, but i'm curious if you dont mind answering. what are five characters in jjk you think arent fleshed out enough, even though they have the potential for so much more? unrelated to tpg, just curious! <3 thanks lol

HI OMG GOOD TO SEE YOU HERE!! this is such a fun question. unsurprisingly my reply got long so answers below cut!

okay. first up. TOGE. i love him to pieces, but we know shockingly little about him. no backstory. not a single line of inner monologue/thoughts in the WHOLE series. while it's definitely fun to write him because you can do so much interpretation as to his thoughts and personality, it would be really cool to have at least some background on his past and how that crazy lil mind of his works. also, where the fuck is he? i only half-heartedly keep up with the manga based on spoilers i see online, but fuck, even panda got to come back. toge is a fan-favorite, come on gege. i am annoyed as hell. give me back my boy!!!!!!!

second!! KAMO! yes, i know he is technically back for the moment, but i think he had a lot more potential than just throwing him in another fight scene. i think he could've been a really great character foil for megumi, and yet...well. they barely interacted. to me, he was definitely the most interesting of the kyoto kids, other than mai. he was vying to be a clan head and learning of his past beyond a mommy issues flashback could've shed light on how the other major clans operate. sigh

third: SHOKO!!! my beloved, my wife, my everything. we know so little about her, and even in gojo's past arc she barely got any screentime and was mostly sidelined to stsg. i think she has such a unique perspective on jujutsu society, and her isolation could offer some insights on the many ways this horrible world treats their most important members. how does she cope, beyond drinking and smoking? i want to see her emotions, i want people to stop reducing her to a character that just smokes and is tired of stsg's bullshit. i think she could've also been a great character complement to nanami, which i--clearly have feelings about and am acting upon. yeah.

fourth: YUKI. this one i am genuinely annoyed about. she's the only woman special grade and we don't even know her technique. she hasn't been in a fight scene, and even when she did finally arrive she was here for maybe like what, 3 chapters? before she got stuck in a tree to #$%@ choso. i'm so interested in hearing more about her research to eradicate cursed energy and her personality/backstory as a whole. her one conversation with getou was so interesting, and i want to hear more of her opinions on non-sorcerers and the trajectory of the world. clearly i had feelings about this too. yuki my queen

last, and definitely least: naoya. now, i absolutely do not mean this in a "he was great and i wanted more of him!!1!1!" way, but rather, i think he had so much more potential either as a villain or a character with insane development than...whatever the fuck he is now. i knew he was going to come back as a curse, but...idk. to me, he represents everything wrong with jujutsu society. exploring his character really could've shed light on how things got this bad, and how he was raised. the thing is, people forget frankenstein is the one who created the monster, and i feel that way about him. jj society failed him as much as it failed others. do i think he deserved his fate? absolutely i do. but i wish more had happened before that, or, if his character arc was going to go in a different way, that could've been interesting too. anyway

thanks again for asking this, and i hope you like the new chapter today!! i always love your comments btw, but you know that. still, i'll say it again❤️️

[turnaroundroundround]

Morimyu in Classical reference

So, as for the fact that music in Morimyu Op. 3 resembles classical music in both progression and musical technicality, it's interesting how it's possible to keep coming up with different interpretations after re-watching the musical again and again.

I've made a thread on twitter about this before, but 1) word limitations and thread will never be enough to list all that I have to say lol 2) I'd prefer to have a fuller version noted down, especially one that I can edit and keep coming back over and over again when ever I come up with something new.

Either way, I am still (lol) not a pro in music theory and music history as well. All that is written here are based on my very very basic knowledge on music as well as something that I've picked up (and discussed) with my friends after watching Op. 3.

What's the point of this?

Why is it important? Lol I always need this to keep myself from writing off-topic but anyways. Why do the music sound good (except for the fact that because it does lol), and what do they represent? Surely there must be, and there always are, other things that are implied not only through the lyrics but also the music, and the flow in general.

Apart from the lyrics and the lines, it's also quite interesting to have a close look at the music - melody and harmony itself - to see how they portray the stories.

Most importantly, the continuality. How did Morimyu manage to insert so many songs and still managing to connect them as a whole? And how did they use music to go beyond what's on the pages? That's the most important thing about musicals - beyond the pages. We don't see stage or anime doing so very often, as they mainly focus on what's already there, bringing them to life as close as possible to how we imagine things might happen.

As for musical, they have the music. They have the arias and the songs. At some point, a character starts singing, and other characters followed suit. They have their very unique way of expressing the plot, and they have the orchestra, the arias where characters get their solo song, and the duets between characters with strong relationships, and the ensemble which emphasizes the plot, and so on.

A funny thing about duets in classical opera, they're often meant to show lovers' relationship because of the harmony but can also use opposition and all to show enemies' relationship. And in SherLiam's duet it's just both of them at the same time - thoughts connected while engaging in a chase, a hide and seek game of mystery. We'll go into that later.

Back to the topic. Morimyu follows the main plot strictly, but also uses their advantage with music to add all the side details that wasn't told in the manga to create a "complete" view of the plot. It is always available for musicals to do something unexpected (like how we never expected Lestrade's puppet show to be a whole 5 mins long piece lol). And where they did that they added arias and duets, they allowed moments where characters express and developed their emotions as well as going with the plan (yes Albert yessss). Of course there's both a good and bad side to this all the while.

💛 The good thing is they went all the way to show us sides of emotions that we don't see much in the manga or stage, the sides of the story that all of them have kept hidden while focusing on their grand plan. 💛 But then it does get too emotional at some point, especially those who came for the plot and the mind games behind all of it (like me - although I won't deny that I had a lot of fun picking out all the emotions behind the music here lol).

Musicals can always go beyond what we knew. As for Morimyu, their music is heavily influenced by opera and classical music, and it's shown quite clear. There is live music playing (instead of the entire orchestra we have a violin and piano duet), and they have distinctive arias and recitatives throughout.

So thanks to that, it's also possible to use a reference from classical music to interpret their songs.

A Sonata formation - The Narrative Series of SherLiam

Yes, songs arranged and analysed with reference to a Sonata formation, especially in the way they progress through the play.

Some notes before getting into the point

1 - Sonata = a piece of music consisting of several movements - very often 3, sometimes 4. First movement-Allegro: With the quick tempo, introducing the theme of the entire Sonata Second movement-Adagio/Largo: Slow tempo, can be emotional sometimes, as well as leading more towards the final movement Third movement-Rondo Vivace: The ending, quick-paced and vigorous, leading the Sonata to a close. A Sonata always has a general theme, a topic. The theme that I chose to write about is Mystery - the Hide and Seek game between the Detective and Lord of Crime

2 - Aria and Recitative = different types of songs used in an opera Recitative: Lines within a song that happens like a real conversation, as the characters sing they are also talking to each other Aria: A solo section where everything else is a freeze frame, while one actor remains and sing their own song about their thoughts, feelings, etc. In this post we're mainly discussing the arias of Sherlock and Liam, and the duet between them. But there's also some mention of recitatives here and there.

3 - Videos used To make it easier to understand which songs I'm talking about, I also arranged them in piano. And also to have a listen at how they might connect. Just in case the videos beneath don't work (they didn't work on my phone), the three songs discussed are Nazo, Liam's solo, Kokoro no Rondo, all piano arrangements.

All of the songs noted in this section are arias and duets from Op. 3 - the Ghost of the Whitechapel. The additional "series" that Morimyu has added spreading throughout the play, Sherlock and Liam's narratives, which portrays both their emotions and the chase between the detective and the Lord of Crime.

First Movement - Allegro: Nazo(謎) song

Starting from Lestrade's exit after his puppetshow and proceed to the scene, Sherlock's aria introduces the theme of the imaginary hide and seek game that the Lord of Crime has started. The song repeats the word (mystery) over and over again with a continuous rhythm.

Ends with Sherlock just mumbling the word Nazo (mystery) and exiting the stage - no conclusions, just like a mystery that leads into further mysteries with no answer.

♛♛♛ In regards to a Sonata formation, this is the beginning of the entire piece. Quick in tempo, written in 3/4 time and introduces the theme of the entire piece - Mystery.

Uso ka Shinjitsu ka - Lie or Truth song

Starting after Sherlock learns the truth behind Jack the Ripper, wondering if Lord of Crime is a good person after all.

Now I had a really hard time thinking whether this piece should be included or not. For one, it's not an aria. It can be viewed as a Da capo Aria, a development section of the Nazo song, repeating the theme that is introduced, coming and going rather quickly. So, for continuality.

It also does not fit into the series as a whole, being 1) a recitative. The lyrics focus entirely on Sherlock's deduction and whether he should expose the truth or not, etc. so on. 2) The lines in here, unlike the other arias, are taken directly from the manga, so it's not entirely an 'added' element to this chase. 3) Also because if we compare this to a Sonata form, this doesn't really fit anywhere

However, among Sherlock's arias, this song can also be seen as an interesting development as I have mentioned above, so I've decided to have it here, still.

There's another thing about almost all of Sherlock's arias throughout the 2 stages - they never have a conclusive end. The detective's mind is always running, mysteries after mysteries.

Most of the other characters' songs ends with some kind of closing lines, and piano continues to conclude the piece with a strong end, and then goes on to start another piece. All of their problems in the songs are concluded. They made up their minds in some ways.

But Sherlock, his songs always end with him repeating the melody, a capella, and exiting the stage. Piano waits for him to exit, then starts a new song. Or in Op. 2's Mindgame case going straight into the next conversation. We never get to know how Sherlock's songs end, because they didn't really end at those points. There's a hanging sense of waiting for a resolution, a conclusion. Sherlock never seems to have his problems solved within the songs, they just go on and on.

An idea initiates, then something happens and he is once again in the dark. And he spins around within his own mind.

Screenshot from Op. 2. Even if we look back to his aria Mindgames from Op. 2, this song doesn't really have a conclusive ending as well. He just starts singing, the music stops and he starts shooting and going on, resuming the play. It kind of has been a thing for Sherlock's arias?

Second Movement - Adagio/Largo: Liam's solo

♛♛♛ The "second movement" - the 'slower' piece - of the series, Liam's aria lol but actually the piano part of this song isn't slow at all but ok. The other side of this hide and seek game. The "development" section of the sonata series, where we see things in a much more emotional way.

This aria is much richer in harmony and melody. Not only Liam's melody, but also the piano's part which plays a beautiful melody in harmony.

I recall an interview where the stage director mentions how the "orchestra" - piano and violin are representations for Liam and Sherlock. It kind of applies here, where his music is created mostly by piano.

There is modulation, emotions rising and elevating quickly and strongly. But the harmony is beautiful, overflowing and rich with emotions. The song repeats certain lines, emphasizing aspects within Liam's thoughts.

Unlike Sherlock's train of thoughts that circles with no destination, Liam's solo has a definite ending in harmony -> Even with all his emotions in mind, Liam still has a goal already set before him. He has a brief moment of slowing down, pausing and sung about his feeling, before resuming the story.

Leading us to the final stage - Kokoro no Rondo.

Third Movement - Rondo Vivace: Kokoro no Rondo

Rondo formation: Rondo is a type of dance that revolves around a pattern, often ABA, ABACA, or ABACABA - where A is the ritournello ("meguri - kimi ni omou - meguru kokoro no rondo" section) that is repeated over and over with B, C parts in between. Rondo can also be combined with sonata form - this case applies to this song which begins with a key other than the tonic (Fm) before resolving to the tonic key (Fm) to put an end to the entire sonata series. For reference purposes, the last movement of Beethoven's Pathetique or the very typical Fur Elise is also written in a similar format. I also referred to Pathetique quite a lot when brainstorming this post.

♛♛♛ The "final movement" of this Sonata, the final scene of their "Hide and Seek" game. The song's tempo is vibrant and rapid, combining with the dancing sense, all the while strictly following the structure of a Rondo as mentioned above.

This is the stage where Liam and Sherlock's line interacts and reply to each other, as if in a real conversation - just like how the connection between them are now much stronger than what they had before.

In the ritournello, we have Liam and Sherlock's lines intertwining and chasing after one another, emphasizing the "Hide and Seek" element between the two of them.

The song comes to a definite ending, concluding with a strong tonic (Fm) chord. At this stage, there is no more question to be left open, for Sherlock at this point has already made up his mind to take the next step into solving the mysteries regarding the Lord of Crime.

Their imaginary game of Hide and Seek is coming to an end, as Sherlock came to a decision to take the next step - going to Durham.

That's the end of my first draft.

So far that is some of my thoughts noted down right after watching Op. 3 stream a while ago, with some edition made just now.

On the side note, at some point during my discussion with a friend, we also came up with the idea that a Suite may be a better reference. A Suite consists of 4 parts and a prelude, each of them having their specific characteristic. But we didn't go all the way analysing that idea, as 1) we couldn't find a 5th piece that can be added into the series. 2) Even if we did, the Truth or Lie song still would not really fit into the "aria" vibe of this series, as mentioned above.

But then quite interestingly, after a while, I've found another interesting fact that should have been quite obvious but I've missed for (lol) like ages.

The game of Hide and Seek between the detective and the Lord of Crime has begun ever since after Hope's case - that being said, ever since the end of Op. 1

And what is it that we have in Op. 2? "The Mind games of the Lord of Crime". The one where Sherlock went maniac rapping about all the thoughts he has and end up shooting randomly into the wall.

At first it begins like another recitative, but in the later half, the harmony starts to become more harmonious, written in 3/4 time flowing like a dance.

In that section, the melody of the piano and violin part resembles the one we have in Kokoro no Rondo, the Ritournello section, only that the melody of the violin in Op. 2 and the melody that SherLiam sung in Op. 3 are kind of reversed.

Coincidence much?

So now we have a collection of songs from both Opus, it becomes tricky. How do we connect them? And what's the story?

At this point, all these recitatives, aria and duets all in the theme of the Hide and Seek game. And they all connect to each other through harmony, progressions in harmony.

We know that the Mind games of the Lord of Crime has begun from ever since the end of Op. 1. We know that Sherlock keeps wondering about that in Op. 2, and then he wonders even further after he has been tested by the Lord of Crime. "また俺だけのメッセージなのか?" - Is this a message just for me?, as he wondered in the Truth or Lie song. We knew all of that. But Morimyu didn't let that stop them from emphasizing on this subplot even further.

They didn't let the gap between Op. 2 and Op. 3 stop them from making a smooth flow in plot either.

Correction, they didn't simply create a flow. They established a connection, all the while showing a strong progression of Sherlock's thoughts that goes on from Op. 2 straight onto Op. 3.

Very often, what makes a good plot is how their plots and sub-plots intertwine with each other. Morimyu has a main plot that follows Moriarty gang in the plan of changing society. And they have a smaller plot told from Sherlock's side of things. And they have this sub-plot told by harmony of how Sherlock is connected to Liam, or the Lord of Crime, by an invisible thread. A connection that is only expressed that clearly in Morimyu.

We have so many things going on, so many songs throughout the play. But each of those elements are all connected to something else, creating a sub-plot that enriches the main plot.

There is no loose connections. For everything that connects to the main plot, they're also linked to other elements. Each scene and every song has their own meaning not only in regards to other songs, but also to the plot as a whole.

Also, did I mention how Morimyu feels like a grand piece of music?

Opus -> What classical songs had that basically shows the order in which they are written. Morimyu - a title piece itself - has 3 Opus, 3 different parts with the same theme.

Classical music very often had all the different elements in it -> Morimyu had an overture, the song they sing just before the main theme song, just before introducing the stage. Then arias, ensembles and choruses. All of them are connected by similar harmony.

Classical music always had a big general theme, with each section having a smaller sequence connecting to each other. Subplots within a big plots. A Sonata piece has 3 movements, each having their own "sections" of development - expositions, development, recapitulation. -> Morimyu does the same to their plot and subplots, as discussed above.

Also, Opera reference

While Opus 2 used an opera reference to tell the story, I feel like Opus 3 has become an Opera itself. During Op. 2 the arias were mostly very loyal to the manga, taking their lines from the original work, like the Mind Games song. Their story progresses steadily but logically.

However starting from Op. 3, the aria became more independent. They developed and expressed even further what wasn't said in the manga. For instance, the 3 songs mentioned in the "Sonata" above. And there's also Albert's solo, and Patterson's solo and Milverton, which I haven't got the chance to discuss all.

But either way, they spring out of the original story, adding more emotions and "colours" to the characters. The aria became more original, all the while also much more expressive. We get to see new sides of the characters that we haven't seen anywhere before.

Anyways, it's probably time to go back to the main question: How Morimyu used music to go beyond what's on the pages.

-> Musicals aren't simply about music added to acting. The characters on stage don't just simply starts singing for no reason. All the songs are meant to express something, and while they do they also establish various connections to the plot's progression.

We don't get to see much of the characters' emotions in the manga. And we don't see much of the side story, the finer details behind each arc. Every time, Morimyu adds something original to enrich their plot. They express and develop what's already known to all the viewers, especially regarding the emotional and motivational side of the characters.

-> The manga shows us the entire plot, with details related, back stories that lead to the present, and all. But it doesn't give a lot of hint into how characters might feel. Surely, reading between the lines, it's up to the readers to interpret them.

But Morimyu gives us all of that, and they leave it to us to read between the music.

And even if we didn't, that's fine. Then the purpose of all of them linking together would be to create a performance where everything is connected harmoniously, allowing us to be emerged in the world of Yuumori.

-> The purpose of having a stage, primarily, is to allow the audience to engage in, experience and feel the emotions along with the characters they see on stage. The point of having a live stage, a plot, and the music, are all to let us emphasize with the characters on stage.

In Morimyu, we aren't just watching a plot between our favourite characters happening as we know it from the manga. We see a combination of mysteries unveiling slowly, the stories on the side of each characters as they slowly progress forward, as well as emphasising with their emotions in the story.

That's what I really like about Morimyu.

So, WHAT'S THE POINT OF THIS?

So I had to scroll back to the top (lol) to quote this and make sure I haven't gone too far from the main theme.

Regarding musical Yuumori, there's always so many things I'd like to talk about. And if I start going on about it then it only gets harder to focus on one single topic.

Since the topic here is Morimyu and their music, especially in classical reference, I've tried to keep everything I've discussed relevant. But whenever I start on something, there would always be something that comes to mind. Like how other songs might also have certain connections, or how they used stage directions and lightings, etc. I really want to look more into stage directions in Morimyu as well, but that would have to wait...

Anyways, I tried to keep this as simple as possible. When I sent the first version of this to my friends, I keep having the feeling that I got too technical with all the theories about harmony and structure lol

And once again, this is only some of my own interpretation of the series that I've picked up.

If something else came to mind... well. Either way, for the purpose of engaging in their wonderful music or for the purpose of watching a beautiful stage just for enjoyment, Morimyu definitely is worth watching. And to watch over and over again. I've said this for Op. 2 but I'll say this ten times as much for Op. 3. Truly magnificent.

And, that's pretty much it that I have for today, I guess.

Thanks a lot to all my friends who gave me lots of inspiration and motivation to complete this ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ Lots of love to @rikaaki as well ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Dimitrescu Daughter HCs

I thought this would only take a few minutes. I was so, so very wrong. Anyway, some of these are somewhat exclusive to my fic (Serenade), but they’ll make sense even if you haven’t read that.

Daniela:

Others have already talked about how Daniela reads a ton of romance novels, so I’m not really going to go into that very much, just saying that I agree 100%, I mean c’mon, it’s practically canon.

While she mainly sources books from her family’s library, there are a few she’s “acquired” over the years that she keeps locked away in her room. These tend to be a bit, ahem, steamier than her mother would approve of/let her read under normal circumstances.

How did she get these? Well, there has to be someone who delivers goods to Castle Dimitrescu (Duke, perhaps?), seeing as the Maidens need, like, actual food to survive. Sometimes Daniela manages to convince them to order books for her, usually just asking for books by authors she likes, or ones she’s heard maidens whispering about.

No, the delivery person does not read the book’s summaries or reviews, they have a feeling (based on titles and covers alone) that they don’t want to know.

As for her experiences with actual romance… she’s so very, very excited about it, all the time. Wants to kiss every cute Maiden she sees, and sometimes daydreams about a beautiful woman fleeing from lycans who comes to the castle for shelter, clinging to Dani for warmth and protection, and it’s love at first sight, and they kiss and kiss and right as it gets to the good part-! Someone interrupts her daydream (usually Cassandra).

However, her actual experiences are fairly limited. Sure, she has kissed Maidens, but she tends to get over excited. Like in Serenade, she starts to rush the process, and usually ends up draining her “lover” aka victim before anything more intimate happens.

She’s definitely done sexual things, just, well, not with other people. Private things. Usually during or after reading one of her special books. You get the picture.

Because of this, and her aforementioned love of romance novels, Daniela has become somewhat obsessed with the idea of her first time. She wants everything to be perfect. The setting, the timing, who she’s with… Hence her reaction in chapter 3 of Serenade. It’s not that she didn’t want to continue, just that the circumstances didn’t feel right. She’s very particular!

Favorite Music Genre: Girl goes wild for an emotional, gut-wrenching love/power ballad. The type to lie in bed and cry while listening to Hozier or Lorde (not that she can hear either of them, considering her limited music options). Doesn’t admit it, though, and mostly listens to indie pop when other people can hear. That and whatever the Maiden plays on piano ;)

Okay it feels weird to joke about her loving music I wrote, anywayyyy

Hobbies: Other than reading there’s not too much I can see her doing, really. She’d be sure to get into anything that her s/o enjoys, though, even if it’s something difficult or time-consuming. Writing is something she’d love, but it’s difficult for her to keep her focus on just one project at a time. Ideally she’d write short stories, romantic ones obvs, and have someone else proofread/edit them. For the most part she’d write within fantasy and historical setting (seeing as she’s got experience in both of those departments).

ADHD, BABY. Bigtime, seriously. Maybe this is just my adhd ass projecting, but I can’t not see her as having it. For her it mainly manifests with hyper-focusing/difficulty staying on task. It’s like a switch with those on either end, flipping back and forth every once in a while. She can spend six hours reading two different books in one sitting, but if someone just breathes too loudly it disrupts her completely. Because of this she’s somewhat prone to abandoning projects. It’s a sore subject for her, and her sisters are aware, normally only bringing it up if they’re really angry with her.

Opinions on the four lords: Thinks Heisenberg is a tool (pun intended), also thinks that he secretly reads super erotic novels. She doesn’t have any proof, though, and would never say anything about it out loud. Just makes fun of him in her head. Doesn’t actually judge him for what she thinks he reads, just judges his personality and the “need he feels to hide his secret”. Loves Donna, and low-key thinks she’s attractive. Daniela mostly bases that off the portrait she’s seen, but, like many fans, also thinks the hands are nice. The puppets don’t bother her, though she also doesn’t really care about them, other than thinking that Donna interacting with them is cute.

Opinions continued: Moreau is… uh… fish boy. Daniela thinks he’s weird, kinda gross, and hardly considers him a “real” lord. Poor boy :(  At least she doesn’t actively make fun of him?... Even if that’s only because she kinda forgets about him most of the time. As for Lady Dimitrescu, well, obviously Daniela loves her mom. The whole family is very close, and as the “youngest”, Daniela gets a lot of attention. Sometimes she thinks her mother is too strict, but at the end of the day there’s no love lost.

Bela:

Cleans up after her sisters a lot, but still nowhere near as much as any of the Maidens do. Often agrees to help with messes in exchange for blackmail material. “Oh, Daniela, what a shame you broke mother’s favorite dish… I could help, but you owe me one.” At the end of the day, though, there’s plenty she would slide.

Being the “oldest”, she’s expected to behave the best, and often feels more restricted than her sisters. Being an example is hard! Occasionally she’ll have the impulse to rebel, but this usually only manifests in scenarios like the one mentioned above, aka she’ll simply be more lenient of her siblings for a bit.

Overall far less sadistic than her sisters. Cares more about the quality of pain then the amount of it. Only ever goes overboard if someone full out threatens or hurts her family. Insults towards them still earn her ire, and will get her to punish someone, but it’s not enough to make her resort to torture. Usually.

Gets the most restless out of the three. As cool (and large) as the castle is, it’s all she’s ever really known. If not for her weakness to cold, she’d go out on hikes a lot. Nature interests her, fascinates her, but she’d be a little less fond of most of it in person. Like, oh, waterfalls sound so cool, followed by a hundred complaints about the noise. Thinks deer are the cutest shit ever (second only to humans, maybe).

Unlike Daniela (though that HC is relevant almost exclusively to Serenade), Bela has actually slept with a Maiden before. She doesn’t really care for them enough to consider it a relationship, instead admiring them for their entertainment value. Definitely could fall for a Maiden, simply hasn’t yet. Of the three I feel like she takes the longest to fall in love, and even longer to actually act on her feelings. Sometimes resents her siblings because they unknowingly “claimed” a Maiden that she was starting to be interested in. However, she fully acknowledges that she should have said something if she didn’t want to lose the girl, considering the situation they live in.

Favorite music genre: Classical, full orchestra style, with a soft spot for swing/jazz. Enjoys having music play softly while she reads, and is very particular about the volume. Absolutely would argue with her sisters if they tried to change the music or turn it up.

Hobbies: Reading, duh. Less interested in romance than Daniela by a considerable amount. For the most part she reads non-fiction books, enjoying learning about history and the sciences. Astronomy is at the top of her favorites list, followed by biology, then obscure (and often bloody) pieces of history. Niche=perfect. Also enjoys music, even if she had to rely mostly on self-teaching books. Knows the basics of piano, but doesn’t actively play, much preferring both the violin and harp. Most of the time she’ll only play if she knows her sisters won’t bother her, or if her mother asks her to.

Opinions on the four lords: Admires Heisenberg’s work/his edgenuity, but thinks the actual man is a temperamental child… who smells like wet dog. He’s only been at Castle Dimitrescu a couple times (per Mother Miranda’s request), and both times Bela moved to the other side of the house so she wouldn’t have to acknowledge his existence. While she would never admit it, she’s low-key creeped out by Donna’s dolls, and really only tolerates Angie. However, she would never act on her nerves, out of consideration for Donna’s feelings. She knows that her mother gets along well with the dollmaker, and keeps this at the forefront of her mind.

Opinions continued: “Moreau who? Oh, the fish guy? He’s still alive?... Good for him.” Wants to make Lady Dimitrescu proud, but not as desperately as Cassandra. Unknowingly mimics a lot of her mother’s little habits and ticks, and would be quietly embarrassed if someone pointed it out to her. As mentioned previously, she feels like she has to be an example for the others, and somewhat resents the pressure this puts on her. On the other hand, she does enjoy being “responsible for” (read: in charge of) her sisters. Additionally, she is the most likely to get away with lying to Alcina, though she does not often do so. This isn’t because she’s the most manipulative (that’s Cass), or the best liar (that’s Dani, if she’s trying), but simply because Alcina doesn’t think her oldest daughter would lie. Even if she doubts something Bela says, she’ll usually give her the benefit of the doubt… as long as it doesn’t happen very often.

Cassandra:

Sleeps the most of the three, if only because she’s the most active of them. Not as fast as the others while in swarm mode, but the fastest on foot, partially because she’s more likely to simply walk places. She knows the sound of feet on the floor scares the Maidens, and she drinks their fear with utter pleasure. Additionally she claims that it just feels nice to “stretch her legs”. But she will not hesitate to enter swarm mode when chasing someone. As fun as it is to smell their fear, she can get impatient, wanting to get close and personal to her target.

Tends to hide most of her feelings, sometimes even opting to “convert” them into anger. In other words, think of her emotional state as an ever-filling bottle of water. As things happen, she feels emotions, and the rate at which water pours into the bottle increases. Ideally if the water level started getting too high, she would address whatever is increasing the flow of water. Instead of that, she often uses anger, which is equivalent to shaking the bottle a bit and letting water messily spill out of it. Doesn’t address the actual problem, but let’s her release some pressure/free up some room.

Goes through Maidens faster than her siblings (yes, even Daniela “draining you of blood is romantic” Dimitrescu). Not all of them even die in the basement, sometimes what was supposed to be a “warning” turns into “oh shit the blood won’t stop coming out, this is how I die, in this accursed castle, no friends or family to mourn me, just the painful knowledge that I will not be the last, I will die for no cause, no glory, just the bitter whims of a blood-soaked mistress” or something along those lines.

While more likely to get attached to someone than Bela, Cassandra isn’t one to do much about it. She might flirt, might even try to kiss (or, uh, kiss while also not wearing clothes wink wink), but she won’t (usually) claim someone as her own, or protest if one of her sisters wants to have some fun with them (even if it’s the bloody kind of fun). Technically gets over breakups and “breakups” (i.e. death) easier than either of her sisters. To be fully accurate, Daniela still goes through lovers faster, but she also remembers them and cares for them for longer post-breakup.

Somewhat of a blood kink. Like, more than vampires automatically have. In intimate settings she cares more about the quantity of blood and what she can do with it (loves bloodstains) than what causes the bloodshed.

Favorite music genre: Rock ‘n roll. Leans towards older stuff, as well as heavier songs. Soft spot for symphonic metal, but doesn’t admit it out of the fear that some might consider it a “weaker form” of the genre. Almost exclusively listens to bands that have female vocalists, and gets crushes on them more than she’d ever admit.

Hobbies: Art! Painting, mostly, but dabbles in sculpture from time to time. It’s been too long since I took an art class for me to suggest a style for her paintings, but I imagine her sculptures would be somewhat abstract. Her art would revolve around emotion, the stronger and rawer the better, with viewers often being left uncomfortable. While Alcina buys plenty of art supplies for her, Cassandra is fond of improvising, especially by creating her own “tools” (of questionable efficiency) out of items she has laying around. She is absolutely the one who took her mother’s lipstick. If you don’t know what that means, don’t worry, it’s just mentioned in one of the RE8 notes that Lady Dimitrescu’s valuable lipstick is missing.

Opinions on the four lords: Tolerates Heisenberg more than the rest of her family by a considerable amount. She’s seen glimpses of his work, his steampunk-adjacent style, and actually kind of digs it. While Bela cares more about the science behind his work, Cassandra just digs the aesthetic. Sometimes for her art she also needs things she can’t get from the castle, and are too obscure to get from a merchant, so she trades tools/ideas with Heisenberg in exchange for him making something for her. “Can you make a battery but whenever it’s in use it makes a horrible screaming sound?” “Yes. PS I hate your mother and Miranda.” “I didn’t fucking ask.”

Opinions continued: Doesn’t really care much about Donna, but acknowledges her as a fellow artist, and would be willing to consult her if she talked more (and talked without Angie). Cassandra hasn’t met Moreau, thankfully (he would cry). Knows about him from her sister/mother, and as a result doesn’t care about him. Internally whenever someone mentions him, she pictures, like, a Goldfish Cracker (the snack that smiles back) with legs except also it’s green and moldy.

Opinions cont.: Loves her mother so much. Determined to please her, to make her proud, but often left feeling less loved than her sisters. This strains her relationship with her family, not that she’d ever voice her feelings and talk through the issue. Let’s be real, Alcina would probably feel guilty for not realizing how Cass felt. Nonetheless, Cassandra probably spends the most time with her mother, often offering to assist her with tasks, or trying to get her to appreciate her art.

[bigteefsmallbrain]

General Soul Eater HCs please

Soul Eater: General headcanons

Death the Kid:

He’s an art critic

Hear me out

He is obsessed with symmetry, and loves the beauty in it

So when he sees something non-symmetrical, especially in art, he can’t help but to critique it

May go as far as to send a personal letter to the artist (If they’re alive) about how offensive it is that they created something so asymmetrical

If he can’t send a letter to the artist, he’ll send one to the owner/museum and request it be taken down, while listing reasons why it’s horrible.

Anything he writes has an even amount of letters and words

Be that his test answers

Essays

Letters

Diary entry

Speaking of diary entries, he definitely has one

But it’s actually just a catalogue of symmetrical things he’s seen

He puts photos into it and writes about how beautiful it was to see

He doesn’t care what it is much, just that it was beautiful

Meaning he takes photos of people too

Which can be unnerving at times

He’s probably taken a photography class before, or at the very least is self taught

Literally has a photo album of things he views are beautiful, but non symmetrical and he would die if anyone found it

Like a particular sunset with uneven hills

Or a flower with one too many petals

Definitely has an 8 ball, not a magic one, just an 8 ball, it’s placed on a velvet pillow in his room and he frequently polishes it

Elizabeth Thompson:

Makes several backup plans as a way to cope

Especially after dealing with an experience with a ghost

She has notebooks full of them, labeled and detailed

At one point she started putting them in alphabetical order but stopped immediately when she realized Kid’s perfectionist habits were rubbing off on her

She practices acting in the mirror

Usually so she can charm a man into dating her

But also to con people

She used to be a “Street rat” and that thought of ending up on the streets again constantly plagues her mind

She takes full advantage of the “Rich life”

Shopping sprees

Quality makeup

Salons and spa days

The works

She lets Patty’s thought that she knows everything get to her head

The fact alone that her sister believes in her that much is enough to make her a bit egotistical

And Patty’s admiration for the girl makes it ten times worse

She literally doesn’t care if she ends up being wrong because she’ll just be right next time anyways

So stubborn in that aspect

Patricia Thompson:

She likes dark humor

You can’t convince me otherwise, you actually can’t, I have evidence

She made an origami Giraffe, and broke its neck

Laughed when Kid said he “wants to die”

She literally pokes him with a stick when he’s depressed

She likes dark humor, and probably looks up jokes to tell others just for kicks

She’s secretly sadistic, and likes scaring her sister and others

She may act naïve and innocent, but she is anything but

She definitely has, more than once, banged on Liz’s door at 3AM just to hear her sister squeal like a little girl

Honestly, she probably purposefully gets their pose wrong, just to see her sisters annoyance and laugh when Kid gets smacked

She likes origami

Probably first got into it because of the paper ninja stars

Then just found it relaxing

She most likely makes the ninja stars mostly, and keeps a box of her origami creations somewhere

Has in the past, and will not hesitate to do so again, beat someone up for kicks or just to destress

Patty has two faces, the childlike innocent one, and the insane anger one

So it’s not too far fetched to say that she’ll hide her anger till she can corner someone alone and beat them up

Or that she gets bored and decides to do so

I wouldn’t be too surprised if her sister occasionally joined as well

Maka Albarn:

She’s a Harry Potter nerd and you can’t convince me otherwise

She loves the concept of magic

Loves the dynamic between Ron and Hermione, though feels a bit of Deja vu thinking about it

Probably used to write fanfiction, but in a way that made it seem like it was actually part of the story

She will hit you if you mention it

Definitely the type to compare books to their movie counterparts

Not in like, a critic way, but she will definitely rant about the differences, or how a character looks exactly like she imagined, or if they didn’t put in a particular scene she liked in the book

Forces Soul into movie nights, but it’s only the movie counterparts to her books

I can see her forcing everyone into a group study session

Be super organized about it, and setting it up in a way so that no one can refuse

She probably has specific ways for everyone to study

Like having Black☆Star work out while studying so he retains the knowledge better

Or setting up the session in a symmetrical way so Kid doesn’t freak out about it

She writes letters to her mom, as a coping mechanism for when her emotions get to be a little too much

Like when she’s having a bad day

Or if she’s particularly peeved at something Soul did

She writes a lot more letters when it comes around the time of her mom's birthday or death anniversary

She likes the thought of an old timey romance, and often listens to songs that give off that kind of feel

She really likes “It’s Been a Long, Long Time”, it’s one of her favorites

She also likes the old Disney songs, like “Once Upon a Dream” and “So This Is Love”

She would be so embarrassed if anyone found out though, especially if it was her dad or Soul

She isn’t quite sure why she’s so worried about Soul finding out though

Speaking of, she half realizes, half doesn’t with anyone's romantic feelings, including her own

She’ll fantasize about getting a love letter or having someone present her with a bouquet of roses

But if it actually happens she’s like “Oh, thanks friend!”

She knows the behaviors, she just can’t put two and two together

They would have to be extremely blunt, no over dramatic confession, just “I’m in love with you and want to be romantically involved with you”

She reads dictionaries for fun

She really likes to read out of date dictionaries, just to see what words and slang existed back then

She also highlights words she likes and uses them frequently on accident

She has most definitely yelled “I have cupid’s kettlebells*! I’m not flat!” at Soul before

Soul Evans:

Bottles. Up. His. Emotions.

He’s influenced by “toxic masculinity” and fully believes that being vulnerable in a serious way “isn’t cool”

He will bottle everything up so deep down inside that it seems impossible for it to surface

Feelings of inferiority to others? Bottled

Want to cry or break down? Nope, gotta be cool

Started crying in front of someone and can’t stop? He’s not crying, you’re clearly blind

Speaking of crying, once he starts, and I mean genuinely starts, it’s so hard to get him to calm down, and even then the tears don’t stop

Sometimes he’ll start to freak out and send himself into a panic attack because the tears just won’t stop

He’s that influenced by the thought of being vulnerable

On a lighter note, he does adore playing the piano, but the only person he’ll play for is Maka

He swears it’s not favoritism, and it’s partially true, but favoritism does play a large role in it

He frequently drags Maka to his room to show her a new piece he put together

And if he notices her feeling a little down that day, he’ll start playing a song that he knows she likes

He definitely knows about her love for old timey romance songs and is very embarrassed to admit a lot of the pieces he constructs are based off of that

The walls are p a p e r t h i n , he can hear her music through the walls

He secretly finds it adorable when he catches her listening to it because she’ll be dancing around to it

He also frequently finds himself thinking about those moments

He’s the stereotype that parents tell little girls about, with how boys will bully their crush

He’s a lot more playful and easy going, but still teases Maka, so much

Unlike Maka, he’s fully aware of his feelings, and acknowledges them, but bottles it up, only letting himself entertain the thought every once in a while

He jabs at Maka’s lack of “Cupids Kettlebells” as a way to try and ensure she won’t fall for him, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if she does

He reads the same dictionaries that Maka does, not for fun, but so he can know just what the actual h e l l she’s saying

More than once he’s had to look up a particular word or phrase online because he can’t find it in the dictionary

“What the hell? It’s an old Victorian saying!? Where does she keep finding this stuff!?”

Subconsciously, as time goes on, he starts using old phrases as well, he was so embarrassed the first time he got caught saying “Keep your idle daddles* off of her!” when defending someone from a perv.

Black☆Star:

Is so unbelievably selfish with food

It’s not even funny

He will stab someone if they reach for his food

He surprisingly eats healthy most of the time though?

Says something like “I have to otherwise I’ll never surpass the gods!”

The only person who could ever p o s s i b l y steal his food is Tsubaki, but even that’s pushing it

He has the weirdest dreams, and I mean weird

Dreams like being turned into a potato and being cooked, mashed, and devoured by Tsubaki herself

He didn’t talk to her for a week after that dream, and refused to eat potatoes for a full year because “You never know if it could be a person turned into a potato!”

He was also very offended when Tsubaki ate potatoes during that time period

He takes things very literally

Like up above, if someone does something in a dream, he acts like it was real

Or if someone makes a joke about fighting, he will drag them outside to fight

He’s secretly scared of Tsubaki

But it’s for literally the stupidest reason

And he fully believes that because of it she could fight god and win

She used to have a pet cockroach

One of the flying ones

And he is so unbelievably scared of them, because for some reason they just don’t die, and they have w i n g s

So the fact she owned one as a pet scares him so bad even though it was literally for only a week

He has a soft spot for children

He doesn’t really know why

He just does

Is secretly really good with kids

Literally the definition of dad material

He has his flaws but still

Little kids are the only people who could steal his food and get away with it

Every. Time. and it makes the others so mad

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa:

What can I say, she’s perfect

She probably receives love letters

Reads them over when she’s feeling sad

Likes to keep them in a shoebox she painted

She definitely paints to unwind and relax

Likes to go outside and paint the sunrise/sunset

Takes note of beautiful scenery so she can come back in her free time and paint it

She probably draws/sketches too

Carries a sketchbook with her

More than likely has drawn Black☆Star doing something

Like napping or training

She’d never show him though, too scared of inflating his ego or giving him the wrong idea

Stress bakes/cooks

We know she cooks

Liz took advantage of it and pretended Tsubaki’s cooking was her own

So we know she does

Sometimes painting/drawing doesn’t cut it

So she heads to the kitchen and bakes away her worries and unwinds

The main reason Tsubaki would possibly be spared from Black☆Star’s stabbing habit with food is because she cooks all the meals

She makes sure everyone is comfortable around her

She’ll go as far as to learn someone's customs and practice cooking their unique cuisine just to make sure that they feel comfortable and safe in her presence

She radiates mom friend energy

She’s perfect mom material, perfect wife material, perfect in general honestly

*Cupid's Kettlebells is a old term for a woman's bust

*Idle daddles is a old term for hands

I Hope you like these general headcanons for the main seven! You didn’t say which characters you’d like to see, so I played it safe by putting the main characters! Thank you for the ask!

[ot3]

i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey. 

anyway. here you have it. 

Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.

So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:

1. The Writing

Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids’ is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith.  I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.

Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)

And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it. 

The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.

2. The Visuals + Fights

I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.

The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.

It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene. 

I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department  as well.

3. The Comedy

Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land. 

A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:

saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny

saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier

saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest

The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.

Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.

All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.

In comparison to Red vs. Blue

Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.

RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.

Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass. 

The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area.  In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.  

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep - Part 6

Author’s Note:  Honestly, this story is nearing it’s ending.  Hard to believe that a little idea I couldn’t shake has now grown into this mini-series!  For all my die-hard homies, waiting for the next installment, I hope this is worth your while!  If you’re new here, take a look around, see if you like anything and please, let the management know if you have any questions!! As always, writing like this requires the emotional support of people and pets.  My dogs, Murphy and Winston, get me through a lot of plot bunnies just by being stalwart companions.  My husband, graciously, lets me take these flights of fancy when I probably should be paying better attention to him and his day... and some of my besties here on Tumblr make it possible for me to do this for you guys.  @sammy-jo1977​ , my sister from another mister!  Couldn’t/ Wouldn’t do it without you! To all the folks who follow me... My Minxes!  Love you all!  Stay well, be kind, and remember that Love, really does conquer all!  If you want to be a Minx, send me a note, I’ll happily add you to my tag list! Lastly, be sure to like and share anything that you see on Tumblr that catches your eye.  Creative types, we need the constant validation, you see?  Without it, like an unwatered plant, we wither on the vine and perish!  Be kind to those who help you through the day and reblog! Skin Deep Part 5 - click here for the previous chapter! Pairing:  Loki x Reader, Steve, Valkyrie & Thor all make appearances Summary:  Continued from Part 5, You and Loki put your plan into action, returning to Farmhouse.  When you encounter Steve again, you learn there’s more than two sides to this story. Warnings:  Loki’s POV and perspective, including mentions of his time under Thanos.  I’m re-writing MCU history here, but some of the main beats are the same, so look out for SPOILERS for Dark World, Ragnarok, and a touch of Infinity War.  The SNAP never happened because, reasons.  

Empathy used to seem such a human emotion.  Loki had no time for that on Asgard, not when Odin denied anything as frivolous as feeling.  Hiding in plain sight was the means to survival and if that made the young prince sneaky and sly, so be it.  By placing those parts of himself under lock and key; the parts that hurt, the ones that ached, Loki found it was safer to disconnect from others than subject himself to their suffering too.

Operating under the influence of Thanos and his minions when he held the scepter, Loki had purposefully divorced connection of any kind from his mind.  It was dangerous.  Weak.  And moreover, it allowed Loki to do what Thanos commanded without really experiencing the horror, the havoc, of his actions for himself. 

  Who could hear the screams of women when the voice of Ebony Maw subliminally chanted all the ways that one could be dismembered at Thanos’ hands should Loki fail?  What man would shed a tear after the near constant beatings doled out by Black Order members, just for the fun of it?  How could someone care about a house, a car, a city, when they no longer cared about themself? Losing the Battle for New York had consequences far beyond the destruction of property.  With Thanos’ hold over him vanquished, the walls around his heart, constructed in youth, crashed and burned like the dream of ruling Earth.  Suddenly and completely out of reserves, Loki was powerless.  And he felt everything.  The fresh hurts caused by his manipulated ambitions in the hands of Thanos. The furious feelings of his brother, the inadequacies of his character, the feeble needs that drove his wild ambition washed over him unceasingly.  Anger.  Loss.  Lunacy.  Loki learned a hard truth in that moment.  He was a monster.  A freak.  A creature beyond hope and salvation; proving his adoptive father right and his own hopeful heart wrong.  Bitterness soured the fallen prince. Endless hours in isolation on Earth, which continued in his father's house, had Loki believing he had no chance of seeing the world outside again, and it hardened his heart further.  To feel was so painful, so raw, and so humane.  Why bother anyway?  All that emoting, those high spirits, all they really did was expose you to derision.  What was grief to a goblin?  What was horror to a monster?  What was love to a villain like him?  An evil, conspiring demi-god, with a mind bent toward domination.  A damaged, destroyed, deity alone and in pieces.  Who would ever give someone like Loki Odinson a chance?  Why should they?

Turning to his mother, Loki did everything but ask for forgiveness.  In long rambling talks, her projection to his jailed person, the pair talked around ideas of guilt and innocence, of fate and fortune, of destiny versus desire, yet Loki never heard the words he needed in order to truly find peace.   

If Frigga was aware of her son’s need for absolution, Loki would never know, as their last exchange was harsh and full of anger.  Another stroke of loss, crippling now, because there was nothing Loki could do to change any of it from inside his prison cell.  No illusion could conceal the painful ache that consumed him entirely. 

Those days were dark, even for a soul as dusky hued as his own, and Loki’s thoughts followed a similar path.  If there had been a way for him to shake off this immortal coil, free himself of the burden of living, Loki would have done so and been glad.  Death was welcome compared to all this longing and heartache. But life, even a nearly immortal one, was funny. 

When Thor provided a chance at redemption, Loki snatched at it, in his own detached way.  He played hero, rescuing Jane, aiding his brother.  And if he took a bit more in the form of deposing his arrogant, aging father, who would be surprised?  He was Loki, God of Mischief, after all. Ruling the Nine Realms without the oppressive oversight of his father allowed Loki to prove himself in ways he never imagined.  And Loki wasn’t just good at it.  He was great. Of course, it helped that no one knew he was Loki.  Living disguised as Odin was often unpleasant, frequently frustrating, but entirely necessary.  Being Loki was still too difficult and likely to bring unwanted attention in the form of The God of Thunder, a thing that no one truly wanted, Loki least of all. Return Thor did, along with an unknown sister and the end of Asgard.  When confronted with the insanity of Hela’s bloodlust, Loki’s only thought was of his kingdom, now without a ruler.  He had worked too hard, too long, to see the land he cared for in the hands of an enemy, even if she called herself sister.  Opening the Bi-Frost, panicked, his mind was solely on saving those he had recently held dominion over.  They were his people, after all.  But he never reached Asgard. Swallowing his fear, Loki focused all his energy on staying alive in a new and distracting environment, initially.  What Loki found on Sakaar wasn't a new home base under a flamboyant, ineffective leader that he could control, even if that was his first design.  On Sakaar Loki found his loyalty.  

The proud, deep resonance of being Asgardian, of being an Odinson, of being capable and cool under pressure.  Sure, he had to prove himself to Thor, Valkyrie, Banner and honestly, the rest of the kingdom, but actions speak louder than words.  And through his actions on Sakkar, and by extension rescuing the people of Asgard, Loki had shown everybody his true mettle. It was on the deck of a stolen ship headed for Midgard that  Loki had made a commitment of sorts.  One that was not to the people, so recently saved or for his found family.  This time, the promise Loki intended to keep was for himself.  Loki was going to change. The problem is, a task like that takes time.  Patience.  Motivation.  It was something that Loki had to work at and it was exhausting. They say that the best things come to those who wait.  Loki was learning to wait everyday.  Having earned a place at the side of his brother, he worked tirelessly to win over the heroes of his new home planet.  Was it easy?  Hardly, but Loki wasn’t willing to compromise.  Not anymore. A life like Hela’s was not in his runes.  Loki was simply going to be better.  Not perfect.  No one could be as good hearted as Captain America, nor could one be as tech savvy as Stark.  So Loki was planning on being the best Loki he could possibly be, and that’s how he found himself going to meetings at The Avengers Tower, a mostly welcome addition to the team. Meetings weren’t all that exciting and boredom was an awful temptation for a deity devoted to mayhem.  In fact, Loki spent more time doodling in his notebook than listening to whoever was droning on about whatever part of the world needed the attention of this motley crew.  That was, until Pepper Potts hired her new assistant.  That you were polite, pretty and pert wasn’t lost on the young god.  Sitting outside Mrs. Iron Man’s office, typing away with a phone tucked under your ear, moving faster than anyone he had ever seen was certainly impressive.  You were quick witted, clever and most of all, funny. Everyone else seemed to fall under your spell without much effort on your part, something that Loki found frustratingly fascinating.  Here he was, struggling to get people to say his name without having a traumatic flashback, while you simply smiled and smarted off prettily, and had everyone singing your praises.  But Norns, were you adorable. If he thought about it, and while off planet, Loki definitely had, he could remember the moment he realized that you were the woman he wanted.  You were busy, as always, fielding phone calls and flipping through screens yet every moment your flying fingers weren’t hovering over a keyboard or pushing down telephone buttons they curled around a heart shaped charm at your throat.  Clearly, it was a habit and one that you weren’t even aware of, still - it transfixed him all the same.  Watching you from his side eye, your voice never wavering, your tone always so pleasing, and your nimble digits returning again and again to the small sigil around your neck.  “Loki?” “Huh?”  Dumbfounded at your call, those deep sea eyes blinked wildly at the sound of his name on your lips. “Hi!  Yes, Pepper can see you now.  Go ahead, she’s ready!” He rose on stiff legs, adjusting his tie, about to lie to Tony Stark’s woman all for the chance to see you in passing.  Who had he become? It started out innocent like that, but soon, Loki was having to invent excuses for being in the office so frequently.  Missing files, random visits, even going so far as to buy Tony coffee just for the thrill of seeing you.  Something needed to change, and quickly, or Loki was going to blow. On another made up errand, hanging around the executive’s high rise office, Loki was doing a bad job of pretending not to see you.  His mind was on your pouty lips as you sipped lemonade through a straw and not on the stately woman seated behind the desk. 

“Loki, you’re a man of some… style.”  Pepper said it so casually that he almost didn’t hear, his head lost in thoughts that would shame any other person. “I like to think so.”

Shutting her folder with a snap, Pepper smiled, “And you’d love to help your old friend Pepper out, right?” That got his attention, and quickly.  Loki, shoving his hands in his pockets, turned to face Pepper with a widening grin, “I feel like I’m being baited.”

“Baited?  Never!  It’s just, you’re always here and I have a… project that needs the kind of help that you can provide.”  At those words you entered the office, ready for action with a notebook and pen, eager and excited. Suddenly, it was all clear to Loki, “Pepper, no.”  

The noose closed in on the handsome god as Pepper gathered paperwork without looking his way, “Come on, it’s the Stark Homecoming Gala and the two of you will do great!  I have faith in you both.  I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” “Really, Miss Potts, I simply can’t-” Stopping short, the strawberry blonde whipped around, almost nose to nose with Loki.  Shrewd and straightforward, Pepper interrupted, saying, “You’ve been dancing around my office for weeks now.  Clearly you like her and… against all the odds, she likes you too.  I’m doing you a favor and when someone does you a favor, you say “Thank You”.” “Thank you.” Nodding curtly, “You’re welcome.  Now, make yourselves comfortable, order some dinner, my treat.  And do whatever you need to make sure this is one great party!” That’s how Loki found himself sitting at a clear glass table over sweating bottles of iced tea as you discussed color themes and tablecloths.  You were shy, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you reviewed notes from previous gatherings both large and small.  His hands itched with wanting to do that job himself. “So, what do you think?”  It was the first time you had addressed him directly since coming through the door and for a moment Loki couldn’t answer.  You were too… not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, although you were.  No, you were too open, too easy to read, and the earnestness you offered him was downright frightening. Sitting forward in the uncomfortable, yet fashionable, office furniture, Loki cleared his throat and again tugged his tie, “What I think is that you should let me take you dinner.” Dropping your eyes, your cheeks colored slightly as your fingers found that locket charm once more, “Loki, I… I don’t know-” Grabbing for your hand, suddenly afraid that you would take those shining eyes away, Loki lowered his voice and did something he never thought he would.  He begged.  “Please?  I find that you’re all I can think about.” It rushed out of him in a torrent, the way truth so often does, and he found himself unable to look you in the eye.  Loki was afraid to see rejection on your easy to read face, afraid that wanting you had cracked open the lock box holding his heart, afraid that you would see just how weak you made him.  Your fingers twined with his own as you replied, “You didn’t let me finish.  I don’t know what took you so long.” Sighing with relief, his face melting into a genuine smile, “Me either.” Over the next two months the pair of you worked tirelessly to plan and execute a perfect party.  You were inseparable during the day, heads buried together as you discussed linens and table settings, the quality of cocktail glasses, and debating over a band or a dj.  But at night, at night Loki talked about the things that haunted him in the dark.  And you loved him in spite of the awful things he had seen and done and said. Others took notice.  Loki was more lighthearted, more available.  He listened when people spoke and wasn’t constantly doodling during meetings.   Yes, Loki was learning how to love through your loving him.  If empathy had seemed too humane before, then sharing his life, his love with you, was the kind of immortality that earned someone a place in Valhalla.  It was the bravest thing Loki Odinson had ever done and he didn’t mind one bit.

The first time Loki tasted you was burned into his brain, as bright as a flash of lightning.  A firefly in a memory jar that he kept returning to, time and again.  Loki remembered what you were wearing.  He recalled exactly how the light shone in your eyes.  If he concentrated, he could tap out the rhythm of your racing pulse as he held you in his arms. It was the night of the gala.  Inviting everyone under the Stark Industries banner, up to and including the heroes tasked with saving the world, the event was a way to earn money for one of the many charities Tony supported.  The place was full of beautiful people wearing gorgeous clothes under perfect lights set to the hand crafted soundtrack you had created together.

But, Norns, he could still remember the way your eyes sparkled under the lowlights of that hall.  How your dress, simple but sophisticated, clung to the fullness of your bottom.  Low cut but somehow still modest, Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away from the promise of your curves, willing himself to find anything else as interesting as the idea of you.  

You were across the room hanging onto Tony’s every word, eyes bright and cheerfully glowing as you sipped champagne.  It made Loki want to do something grand, something suave, something that would demand your attention for his own.  Moving towards you, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and fitting better than it had any right to, Loki looked long and lean.  Each of his steps seemed to echo, even though the room was full of sound, and you turned your head as if you also heard.  Breaking away from the cluster of acolytes surrounding Iron Man, you bit into your lip as the crowd parted, moving closer together one step at a time.  It was one of the sexiest things Loki had ever witnessed. Lifting your glass in a toast, taking in the room of mingling millionaires, wealthy hangers on and Avengers, “Well, we did it!” “You did it, my dove, I just hung around and judged everyone.” “Oh stop.  I couldn’t have done it without you and you know it.”  Playfully you pushed against his shoulder and Loki took advantage, using your momentum to pull you to his side, your curvy figure flush against his own. Crooning into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing over that sensitive skin, “Somehow, love, I think you would have managed.”  Before you had time to think, Loki had melded his mouth with your own, stealing your breath along with your heart.  Loki’s feet moved in time with the music as he pulled into a dance, laughing in his arms, your cheeks hot and your head swimming. You laughing was, without question, Loki’s favorite sound.  Nothing in this world or any other came close to matching the joyful, childlike glee of that enchanting noise.  Loki memorized its melody, the rise and fall of your giggle.  He had craved it, being away for so long, and now he wanted… no, needed to hear it.  But you were the furthest thing from happy at the moment.   

"Darling, please.  We have to go."  Loki tapped his watch, shaking himself free from the memories of your previous life together and barely suppressing his irritation.

Tears filled your eyes as you whipped your arms around Thor’s mighty shoulders, his deep voice grumbly with emotion, "Take care of him, would you?  He's a jerk, but Loki is the only brother I have."

"Of course… always.  And Valkyrie, your highness, I can’t thank you enough for-"

"No need.  Loki, and by extension yourself, will always have a safe haven here in my palace."

Looking on, Loki and Thor embraced almost tenderly before crashing their heads together.  

"Stay safe, little brother."

"Be good, Thor."

Eyes on the sky, Val ignored the show of masculine emotion, chastising your plan, "You’re going to start a war, Loki."

Straight backed, Loki turned to the king, "Not on the grass of New Asgard.  I will take the fight to them, that is my vow to you."

As Loki offered his hand, Valkyrie shook it, with parting words, "Work on staying alive.  You have a tendency to worry your brother."

Solemnly nodding, "As the king commands.  Shall we?"  With that Loki laced his fingers with yours, leading you a few paces away from the people who loved him most, before summoning the magic that had you both transcending space and time.

This time when your feet touched down it was on the familiar turf of the orchard, surrounded by the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of happy bees.  Morning had broken and the world seemed full of promise, with the exception of that knot in your stomach.

"Are you ready?  Darling?"

"Oh… yes.  I mean, I still don't love this plan, but-"

"But it's going to work."  Only it was no longer the baritone voice of your long, lean Loki speaking.  In his place stood Nick Fury, leather duster and eye patch in place.

"If you say so!"  And you clutched your own throat as Natasha’s bored tones came out of your mouth.  The suit, skin tight but flexible, molded to your modified form.  All in all, you were comfortable, "The boots are a bit much."

"Ya think?  This jacket weighs a ton."  Pulling at his collar, "Why does he wear a turtleneck anyway?"

"Loki, this is so weird.  It feels so weird."

"Agreed, but then, why am I so turned on?"

Laughing, you shook your false red hair, hands resting on Natasha’s waist, "God, I've missed you."

"Same, dearest.  Now… let's get your necklace and some answers!"

---

 Convincing Bucky to head home had taken a lot of work, but sometime around 2 am Steve had finally seen his friend off.  The house was empty.  Steve felt the same way.

Turning the black velvet box in his pocket, fingers crushed against the fragile fabric, Steve struggled to feel anger.  When that didn't materialize he shot for sadness but even tears seemed beyond his ability.  

With a sigh, climbing the same stairs he had trudged up a hundred times before, Steve started going through the motions of bedtime.  Only tonight you weren’t there to tease him about the wildly inappropriate amount of toothpaste on his brush.  He didn’t have your light footsteps to follow to the bedside or your help with stacking all of your extra, yet entirely essential, pillows on the chair.

Someone must have changed the sheets, he thought.  There was no evidence of you and Loki’s adventurous afternoon anymore.  Steve made a mental note to thank Buck for that little piece of kindness in the morning.

Shucking his shirt, Steve sat on the mattress, a hand to his forehead.  He had lost.  Captain America had been bested.  Beaten.  And by Loki, no less.

Moonlight in silver slivers shone through the window panes, squares of light in the deep of night.  Steve was alone.  Utterly and totally alone.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Sighing hard, Steve stood, pacing the floor to work off some of the unspendable anxiety he kept creating.  The room still had your energy, your vibe, as you liked to call it, and the feeling was a prickling itch Steve couldn’t quite satisfy.  Traces of you were everywhere and something about you leaving all of it, and him, behind was just too big to process. “Damn it.”  Even whispering sounded like thunder in the silence of your recently vacated room.  His hands, so big, so strong, smoothed along the fabric of your hanging clothes.  All that power had done nothing to help Steve get the thing he wanted. Sorting through the baubles and trinkets on your dresser, bottles of perfume he had purchased, necklaces and pins, each with a moment of memory it hurt him to recall.  Your watch ticked away the minutes as he stood, stoic and still, surrounded by the shadow of you.  In the orchard the birds were waking, their song filling the air, as morning broke in low golden rays.  Abandoning his plan for sleep, Steve watched as the light chased away the dark, casting rainbows on the floor.  The sun was reflecting off of your Grandmother’s necklace.  A pretty, ancient, carved cameo,  heart shaped locket.  He recalled his own mother owning one just like it, pictures of loved ones pressed inside, holding them as tight as history would allow. Fisting the filigree chain, winding it around his fingers as if it would somehow undo what he had done, Steve slipped it into his pocket before settling back onto the bed.  ----

At the back door to the home you so recently shared with Steve, Loki hung back, “I think this is where we split up.  You go find your treasure and me… I’m going to find some answers.” Nodding, Natasha’s signature red hair swinging, you squeezed the hand holding your own.  It no longer looked like Loki’s long fingered paw, but that was only a skin deep change.  You felt the undeniable essence of him in the press of his fingers against your own. “Be careful.” “That’s no fun, dove.” “Loki-”  You hated the way your voice broke as you said it, but there just seemed to be so much at stake and you had already lost him once. Sensing your unspoken concerns, Loki flashed you Nick Fury’s best smile, “I will.  I promise.”

“Ten minutes.” “Ten minutes.”  You watched the black coated back of your charmed paramour as he opened the shed door, hoping that he’d find something worth knowing in that place out of sight.  Inhaling deeply you twisted the doorknob as quietly as possible, letting yourself into what was once your kitchen, “What a mess.”  It was impossible not to notice the unwrapped leftovers and empty bottles littering the table.  An overturned trash barrel, crumpled beer cans littering the counter, things that Steve, your Steve, would never have tolerated.  All evidence that the grand evening he’d envisioned had been thwarted by Loki’s arrival and your collective escape.  

You started up the stairs, praising Natasha's footwear for its stealth, when you heard the toilet flush and the unmistakable shuffle of Steve’s feet on the carpet.  There was no place to hide on the wide stairwell.  It was time to see if Loki's plan was going to work.

Voice blurry, eyes rubbed red and raw, you couldn't deny that Steve looked like shit, “Bucky?  That you?  You back?”  Steve’s voice bounced around the brightening room as morning sunlight filtered through the soft sheers you had picked out for exactly this reason. Panicked, you backed into the railing with an over loud “Oof!” “Nat?  What are you doing here?  I thought you and Fury were headed to New Asgard?”  Suddenly wide awake and wondering, Steve rushed to your costumed side, eager for information. The man in front of you now bore little resemblance to the angry Avenger you had escaped from hours before.  This man had hair sticking up in odd angles from near constant finger raking.  This man had a hint of a stuffy nose and red rimmed eyes, all indicators that tears had been shed.  Now those blue eyes were scrutinizing you closely, full of concern.

“Uh… We... We got intel.  Yea, intelligence, that Loki was headed back this way.  Turned around… and uh, here we are.” One of those sandy blonde eyebrows lifted, “Natasha?”

Squaring your shoulders, channeling that cool confidence you’d see Black Widow display over and over, “Steve?”  Something about your tone of voice convinced him in a way your words couldn’t.  He visibly relaxed, those broad shoulders going slack as he asked, “Didn’t make it to Norway, then?"

Nodding a negative, you felt the unfamiliar brush of her red hair at your cheek and had to fight the urge to tuck it away, “No.  Loki’s using some sort of transporting power to move them around.  Fury suggested I keep an eye out here, in case they come back this way.” “She won’t be back, Nat.  There’s nothing for her here.”  To you, Steve sounded so sad, so removed, that you had to will yourself not to comfort the giant before you.  “That’s not true!”  It came out of you forcefully, thoughtlessly, and you saw the shock register on the Captain’s face. “That is, Fury and I… we… have reason to believe that she will come back.  They left with nothing, Steve.  She’ll need clothes… maybe some shoes… and-”  Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to give anything away, “-a necklace from her grandmother.” Steve, patting his pocket, felt the weighted chain and it’s heart shaped locket, “I don’t think-” Stepping up to his bulky form, suddenly aggressive, you started, “Never mind what you think, Captain.  We're here for a necklace...  the necklace.  Our intel suggests that your former flame might return for it and… And, I want it, with me, as a means to subdue her when she arrives." Sounding forceful and official was enough to back Steve down.  Just a touch deflated, you watched him shrug, “If that’s what you want, Nat, here-”  From his pants he pulled out the shining bauble, a trinket really, but full of sentiment and memory. Sitting in his palm, the tiny heart that held the picture of your grandmother and mother looked so small, almost unreal.  Reaching for it with wet eyes, you smiled at Steve as you lifted the charm and chain, “Thank you, Steve.  Thank you.” Nodding deeply, that golden head bobbing, “You’re welcome.”  The large grandfather clock could be heard ticking throughout the house.  The sun was gaining on the day and you, dressed as Natasha stood in silence in front of a somber Steve.  For another long beat nothing was said, then, as if sensing a shift in your conversation, Steve flashed your fake Natasha a weak smile, “I could use some breakfast.  How about you?”

“Um… sure.  Yea, ok.  Breakfast.” 

Steve started moving again, downstairs towards the cluttered kitchen when he paused, "So how did you get back so fast?  Cause that's like a 7 hour flight, even with you in the cockpit." “Steve…”  You could hear it, the whining almost pleading tone that signaled the end of Loki’s well planned charade.  That wasn’t enough to stop Steve.  He broke hard, one of those strong arms stopping you in your tracks before you could reach the lower level. “It’s clever, I have to give you guys that.  Almost perfect, really.” Panic rising, you doubled down on the ruse, struggling to keep your voice even, “I don’t know-”  Blocking you in, his body the perfect unmovable buffer, “Loki’s here too, isn’t he?” Pushing against “Steve, I… I don’t…” “Don’t lie.  You don’t have to…” “But… how-?” “You’re not mean enough to play Natasha, doll.  Not by a long shot.”

--- It was strange to be seated at the table and chairs that you and Steve had picked out together one sunny Saturday when you thought that your future was going to be Loki-less.  Your place, the one that you had imagined filling with children that had golden hair and bright blue eyes, felt like a set.  Something false and fake.  A facade, put together simply for show. Steve must have felt it too because his fingers drummed against the white washed table incessantly.  Clearly he had something on his mind.  “Steve-” “No.  No.  Please, let me just get this out, ok?” Raising an eyebrow, you waved at him to continue, nervous but interested in what the super soldier needed to explain. With a shaky inhale, running his constantly moving fingers through his golden locks, Steve caught your eye and didn’t waiver.  “When I saw you… No, that’s not right.  Let me start at the beginning. “When Loki left Earth, you… you were so sad.  It hurt me to see you so… deflated.” “Steve, I-” “You know it’s true.  When he returned to Asgard, something in you, it dimmed, and I just couldn’t allow that… Not when I felt the way I did about you. “I don’t think you realize just how incredible you are… how full of life!  And since I had already missed one chance to be with you, I knew I needed to prove that I could be the man you needed… If you forgot about Loki along the way, even better. “Only… you never did.  I waited years for you, ya know, doll?  Years.  And just when I thought there was no chance with you, Nat gave me a reason to hope. “She was your friend.  An ally.  Someone you could trust… someone I could trust.  I swear it started out that innocently, at least for me.  I just wanted to make you smile again.  But she had other plans.  Plans that came from higher up the ladder of SHIELD. “Fury, he wanted us to watch you… something about Loki being too powerful.  And-”, grabbing your hand tightly, Steve emphasized his point, “-I promise you that I had no idea about his success, or the messages he had sent to you through Nick.  Like you, I thought that Loki was gone.  Missing.  Never coming back.” “I… I believe you Steve.  I know that you didn’t do all this on your own… but what was Nick hoping you’d find out?  I knew less than nothing about what was going on!” “I think he was worried that Loki would get to you first.  That if… when Loki returned, you would be his first stop.  Then you would know about Loki’s success and, frankly, Fury’s failures.  You would also know… well, everything you know now.  That Fury had you tailed, lied to, and led on in an effort to stop Loki from out flanking him.” Frenzied and frantic, you felt anger boiling up inside of you, “But I thought Loki was gone forever.  There was no hope for him and I… and Natasha, she told me that he was dead.” “All a part of Fury’s plan to keep you neutralized and Loki away.  If Loki thought that you’d ignored his letters, that you no longer loved him, why would he come back here?  And, if that didn’t work… when Loki came back and you were with me, what else could keep him on Earth?”

Whispering with realization, “So, they used you too.” Steve sighed and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, “Don’t feel bad for me.  I let them use my love for you, let them twist it up and shape it as they needed.  Honestly, I wish I could tell you that it was for you, but it wasn’t.  It was for me.  I wanted you, so, so badly.  I didn’t care what strings were attached.  And we built a life together, you and me.  I thought I could outrun the reality of the constant monitoring and daily reports.  Telling Natasha and Nick about every word and each email.  Don’t you see, I love you… and I wanted you, however I could get you.” Shaking your head, Natasha’s red wisps flying, “That’s not love, Steve.  I don’t know what that is… but love isn’t it.” “No?”  With a loud thunk, Steve slammed a small velvet box on the table between you. “Is… Is that what I think it is?”

“Last night.  It was going to happen last night.  Our friends here, under the lights and the stars, I was going to ask you to marry me.  I still would if-” Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, “If Loki hadn’t stepped back into our lives.” “-If Loki hadn’t stepped back into your life.” It made you both laugh in a sad way, how you finished the same thought, and for a fleeting second you could see why you had allowed Captain America to sweep you off your feet.  He was a lot of things to you now, but there was a time when he had been almost everything.  The evidence of that was in the small black square that said nothing but spoke volumes. “Steve, I don’t know if I would have said yes… even without Loki’s… arrival.  I think I have always known that you and I… we are very different people.” Sitting back in his chair, his gaze still locked on your own, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about what I’ve done… what I’ve said… How, shit, how I’ve behaved.  I could say that it was my duty.  I could tell you it was out of love, but the plain truth is that I have always been jealous of what you and Loki share.” “You’ll find it Steve.  You really will.  There’s a person out there waiting for you.  And once you’ve found them, oh Steve, you’ll see that this… what we had, it’s a shadow.  An illusion.  Because love, real love, doesn’t come with caveats and catches.  It is an undeniable force which, in my case, even the boundaries of time and space can not deny.” Something like a sob burst out of Steve, and you were surprised to see tears in his eyes, “I was so wrong.  Could you ever forgive me?” “I want to, Steve.  I really do... “  What more could you say?  Patting his hand you started to rise, “I have to go now.  Loki and I need to keep moving and I don’t want to risk running into Nick and Natasha.  At least, not yet, anyway.” “Where are you planning to go?” “To the Avenger’s Tower.  I believe I know what Mr. Fury has been planning all along.”  Loki’s strong voice entered the conversation as smoothly as his arms wrapped possessively around your waist. Steve took in the protective stance of your returned lover with a raised eyebrow, and without further comment asked Loki, “Really?  And how are you going to breach the building?  They’ll be looking for you, even with disguises…  Fury is no fool.  Plus, there’s little chance that Tony hasn’t activated a million safety and security protocols by now.” Only interested in you, Loki refused to give Steve any of his attention, “Getting in can’t be that hard!  I’ll figure it out when I get there.  Ready pet?” With a gentle push under his broad hands your feet started to move towards the door.  Loki was eager to be off and away, especially after hearing so much of Roger’s confession.  Just knowing what Steve had done, manipulating you while also convinced of his love for you;  it was enough for Loki to commit murder.  He was having quite a difficult time not tearing the good Captain’s limbs off his body. Softening his tone, Steve practically pleaded, “Loki.  Wait.  I… I can help.” Turning his attention fully to your former flame, Loki purred venomously, “You can help?  I’d love to know what entails, Captain.” “I can get you into the place and take you exactly where you need to go.  Fury’s going to hate it, but I’m tired of taking orders that hurt the people that-”  His pause was as lingering as the look he gave you, “- That I love.”  Before Loki could offer a sincerely sassy reply you grabbed his sleeve, tugging, “Um… Excuse us a minute Steve.” Pulling him down the hall of a home that felt like a familiar faced stranger, you waited until you had a bit of distance from Steve before harshly whispering, “How long were you listening?”

Serving you that small, sexy smile, Loki grinned, “Long enough.  How did you know I was there?” “You are sneaky, but even you, God of Mischief, cast a shadow.” Swinging you close enough to catch your mouth with his own, Loki pressed a sweet kiss there before answering, “A mistake I will be careful not to make again!” “The tower, huh?  That’s where you want to go?”  Grabbing you at the swell of your hips, grinding his frame against your own, “Where I want to go, my darling, is to the nearest bed, preferably naked, with you and you alone.” Your hands traced over the lapels of his borrowed leather duster, pausing only to jerk him closer by the supple fabric, “Hmm… is that so?” “Oh yes…”  Loki’s buttery grumble filled your ear as his strong hands dug into the flesh of your bottom.  For a moment you thought he’d give in to temptation, his sweet lips teasingly close to your own upturned mouth, “But-” On your toes, leaning into Loki’s sturdy, leather draped frame, you paused, “Ugh.  But?” Moving you to a safer, less kissable, arms length away, Loki sighed with the same frustration you felt, “-But, where we need to go, as soon as possible, is the Tower.” Moaning grumpily, you stepped out of the arms you longed to linger in, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” “I know it’s less than… ideal, love, but I did find something useful before the good Captain unburdened his soul this morning.” “And that is?” “Fury’s plan.  At first I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was after.  What did Fury want?  How was I involved?” Loki was dragging this out, loving how it kept you hanging onto his every word, and you rolled your eyes, “Well?  What is it?  Weapons?  War?” “All of that, yes… and… yours truly.”  That triumphant smile that filled Loki’s whole face lit up his mischievous eyes.  Tilting your head, struggling to make sense of what Loki had just told you, “What do you mean, you.  Fury wanted you… to do what, exactly?’ “Loki was going to be the patsy.” You both turned toward the sound of Steve’s baritone at the door, suddenly remembering that the Good Captain was still there and that he was waiting to see what you were going to do next.  Leaning his 100 year old bones into the doorframe, Steve crossed his arms, “The fall guy.  An example of what happens if you cross SHIELD.” “I think, my dear Mr. Rogers, that you mean, I am to be used as an example of what happens if one crosses Nick Fury.”  Loki countered, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively. The idea was frightening.  A man like Fury had too much power, too much at his disposal.  Just knowing the lengths he had gone to in order to keep you and Loki apart was scary enough.  Making enemies of your friends.  Threatening the people you loved.  Selling your affection to Steve in an effort to control Loki.

Now, the knowledge that all of it was done in an effort to ensure that Nick Fury was the toughest guy in the galaxy, it made your stomach clench.  “What do you mean, an example?” “Unless my intelligence is flawed, I believe that Fury was going to kill me.  Is that correct, Captain?” Steve felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him.  Yours, full of fearful love and blind hope that this was all just some misunderstanding.  Innocent and naive and as lovely as he could ever remember.  Loki’s were reflecting a deeper understanding.  The kind of knowledge that only time in the trenches teaches. There was no answer from Captain Rogers.  None was needed.  Honesty, final and resolute, was out in the open.  “Look.  I know I’m not the guy you want on your side.  I’ve… I haven’t been the man I needed to be.  Not for you-”  Steve locked his bright blues onto you, offering a small smile that spoke of sadness before facing Loki, “-Or you, Loki.  But if you let me help you now, I promise that I can get you into the tower and maybe, one day, you won’t think so little of me.” 

Around you the morning gained strength.  Somewhere nearby birds chirped wildly, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the modest little farmhouse and its implications on intergalactic politics.  Without  moving a muscle, Loki plainly asked you, “Do you trust him, dearest?” Squaring your shoulders, you crossed your arms, staring down the man called Captain America.  Nodding decisively, “I do.  I don’t think he’d spill everything like that only to turn on us.  He’s not so bad Loki, really.” “We’ll see about that.  For now, we trust Steve.  Ok, what’s your plan, Rogers?” --- “Hey.  I… I have one other thing to show you.”  Steve was dressed for action in his branded tactical gear, looking every inch the super soldier that Dr. Erskine envisioned. “Steve, we have to get moving.  Loki’s eager and -” “Just open it, ok?”  The envelope was thick with folded paper, the flap tucked under and not sealed.  Clearly it had spent time in and out of pockets, the edges frayed and tattered.  In exasperated curiosity you gingerly pulled the sheets free.

Shaking, your hands trembled holding the once white documents as your voice thickened, “Is this… is this what I think it is?” Cocking his head playfully, that rueful smile pulling at his full mouth, Steve almost seemed cheerful as he teased, “It’s yours.  I think something about this place has always been yours and I want you to have it.” “But-” Folding your small hands in his mighty ones, Steve squeezed gently, “It was a wedding present, or it was supposed to be.” “But we’re not getting married.” “I know.  Still-” “I can’t, Steve.  It’s yours.  Your house, your farm, your dream.” Shaking his head, disagreeing, but feeling lighter than he had in decades, Steve insisted, “Too late, I’m afraid.  It’s done.  Actually, that version of the deed has been signed since our second week here.” As realization sunk in you appraised the man changing right before your eyes, astonished but exhilarated, “Where will you go?” “I dunno.  Think I might need to be alone for a bit.  Maybe see the world… but first-” “First, we have to stop Nick Fury.”

To Be Continued... My Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @jenjen8675309​ @that-one-person​ @roguewraith​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

On the Citadel and writing (Star Wars) essays.

I’ve just stumbled upon captures of clones deaths in the Citadel and Obi-Wan’s reactions (easily summed up by “we must keep moving”), and the op was using this as evidence of Obi-Wan dehumanizing them, and I can’t stop thinking about it and it’s making me so (irrationally) angry. 

...

So yeah instead of ranting, I’ll attempt to direct my seething frustration into trying to organize a few thoughts on character analysis. Rule of thumb: text without context is pretext. Or in this case, picture without scene is probably bs. When using a particular frame as a piece of evidence supporting a take, you have to make sure you’re not excluding any surrounding material that could potential contradict that take, or else the analysis doesn’t hold. Quick example: using pictures of Yoda goofing around to test Luke’s patience as evidence that he is insane doesn’t work, because it’s revealed right after that he was playing an act. 

This principle is to be broadened when analysing entire scenes or episodes. You can’t take them out of the wider narrative. 

The post I was talking about continued on to say that this wasn’t the first or the last time that Obi-Wan was careless with the lives of his clones. Unless they were referring to RotS (which isn’t fair or intellectually honest because it was made long before anyone considered giving the clones identities and individual thinking), I don’t see that as being the case at all in canon material. Obi-Wan fights on the front lines. He takes the exact same amount of risk as his troops - he takes more risks even, as established as early as Christophsis (when he tells Rex to retreat with his men while he holds off the B2 super battle droids). 

What the op was probably talking about was the many plans of his that result in clones dying (ex: on Geonosis with the zombie worms, many troopers die as they escape). Here’s what I meant about the wider narrative: TCW is about war. It’s about people dying, and it has to be so the audience can understand the horror of a full scale war. And since it’s still (supposed to be) a kid’s show, it has to be mostly faceless people dying. 

I’m borrowing a quote from @trickytricky1​‘s absolutely amazing vid ‘Your Body and Your Blade’, which compiles scenes of Jedi placing themselves between their clones and enemy fire: “We are shown a war, and in that show, to tell that story, they will kill the soldiers. They will kill the soldiers regardless of whether we think they should have been able to be saved. They will kill the soldiers to prove a point, to tug the heartstrings, to move the plot, to set the scene. But that is far from the only thing we are shown.”

So there, wider narrative. The clones dying in missions led by Obi-Wan don’t say much about Obi-Wan himself. And speaking of Obi-Wan, more on character analysis. Obi-Wan, according to Matthew Stover’s Lucas-approved RotS novelization, is “the ultimate Jedi,” Jedi being supposedly defined by their compassion.

Obi-Wan is the guy who cradles one of his worst enemy in his arms as he dies, the guy who knows like a billion languages and is always shown to be super respectful and/or knowledgeable of other beings’ cultures (the Twi’Leks whose homes he doesn’t want to destroy, the Zygerrian whose culture he uses to buy Anakin time to disable the bombs, the Geonosian Queen, telling the Gungans they live in symbiosis with the Naboo...) and the one who knows the names of the 501st troopers despite not being their general (see The Deserter). Obi-Wan is not presented as dismissive of people or things because he does not understand them, and he certainly is shown to value all sentient life above his own. That does not jibe with Obi-Wan dehumanizing the clones. 

What we’re uncomfortable with might be the show itself not delving deeply enough into issues we as an audience can perceive because we have the benefit of omniscience and hindsight. Just as Yoda and Obi-Wan killing the clones in RotS does not inform their characters but the real life context of the movie’s creation, the same can be said of most problems with clone rights that we are indigned by. (Except in Krell’s case, or Tarkin’s - that’s what dehumanization looks like. And that’s what the show draws attention to, practically screaming “hey, look, these guys are evil for doing that!!!”)

To go back to the Citadel arc itself... Again, context. They’re in the middle of a highly time-sensitive mission, their failure could (as far as they know) mean complete defeat and the end of the Republic if the Separatist invade the Core worlds, and it’s more than probable that the clones who came along volunteered. (The ones we know are all high-ranking officers.) 

With this in mind, Obi-Wan not taking the time to show grief (again with the context that Obi-Wan isn’t one to wear is emotions on his sleeve) says one thing about his character, and only one: he’s a damn leader. As Piell puts it, this is war. You act first, survive first, mourn second. It’s hard to swallow as the audience, because we love the clones and care for them and want other characters to show that they care too, but fan-service can make for poor writing and characterization. 

(And by the way - Obi-Wan carries a clone on his back when they make their way down a cliff. He also personally assists most of the men up and down ledges, he gives out the warning about the blast doors closing... He’s trying to have everyone’s back. Pressing people to move isn’t being cold, it’s being cool-headed.)

To finish off, I’d like say that the “death of the author” principle is great when you’re writing school essays and want to show off (I should know, pretending that I’m smart and know stuff about literature is basically what I’m majoring in). But it can very easily lead to interpretations that - while valid to the degree that you’re entitled to make them and that they’ll probably always be defendable in some way - are not what you were meant to take away from the story. (Ex: the Empire was actually good, the Jedi deserved genocide, the Dark Side is freeing - go crazy, make defending these into fun rhetoric exercises, actually believe them if you want - but it’s still not what Lucas was trying to say.) 

Here’s what JAT (Obi-Wan’s voice actor) had to say about the Citadel. (Borrowed from the amazing @gffa​.)

“He has sympathy and heart for the clones, but at the same time he knows the mission.” 

tldr: the Citadel isn’t an arc meant to highlight Obi-Wan’s flaws (if anything, it’s an Ahsoka arc, and an Anakin arc setting up his future interactions with Tarkin). The deaths we see him walk away from are mostly for shock value, to make us understand what how dire the situation is and to make Even Piell’s death believable when it comes (which in turn is to further Ahsoka’s arc).

So yeah, keep the author alive, try to make serious analysis in good faith and not based on your emotional reactions to character you cherish, but go crazy on the wildy AU headcanons and don’t let people spoil your fun. 

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

A Devil's Hunger: 1. 3. 5. 6. 11. 12. 15.

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

Oh it’s going to sound so cheesy, but I really think it was Venable as a character. I was so new to AHS when I first started writing this, so I didn’t really know where the rules and boundaries were set. This fic was written to explore those more artistic points of Sarah Paulson’s performance and the depth of Venable’s character. It was mostly based off of the tiny smirks, the eye squints, the tapping of her cane. And I know it’s not even really gotten into the proper, deep characterization bit yet, but it’s been incredibly fun so far. As for the perspective of the reader… I feel like a lot of times, especially in television/movies, we get to see what the characters’ cool superpowers look like on the outside, but we never know what’s going on inside of their mind or body when they channel those powers. So it was really fun trying to interpret that and explore the feeling of magic from the inside out.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Oh gosh, I don’t know if I have a favorite line… this is an impossible question 🙈 I definitely like the bit where they’re playing the candlestick. I was really pleased with how that came out. And I also really love the bit where Mina smacks reader across the face. Sue me 🙈

5: What part was hardest to write?

It’s not been published yet 👀 let’s just say it’s sort of the biggest scene of the fic, the climax(ish), and I have about five different versions just sitting and mocking me because I can’t choose between them 🙈 of the bits that have already been published, I’d say probably the beginning of chapter seven, when reader wakes up in Mina’s bed. Because there were SO many ways that it could have gone, and I didn’t know how I wanted them to fuck 🙈

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

It’s multi-chaptered, for one. None of my other fics are (except for fearsome foursome, but I’ve only posted the first part of that so it doesn’t count yet hehe). I think it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written, and because of that I had a lot more freedom to take my time with the pacing of it. With a lot of my other fics, I always feel a pressure to keep them relatively short (read as: less than 20k). I try to cut out everything that isn’t absolutely necessary and keep them intentionally plot driven. With A Devil’s Hunger, I feel like I gave myself the space to explore the emotional impacts of all of the things that happen to the reader, and in that, I allowed myself to write in a way that I had never written before. Plus, there are a lot of tiny details (down to the types of plants mentioned) that will become really important later, so it was fun to be able to plan ahead and sprinkle all of that in.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

The piano and the plants. And also being able to write magical stuffs. I don’t know if it comes across well, but I’ve never done anything like that before and it’s very fun to try to interpret these different magic lessons and what they would feel like inside of the body/mind as they’re happening.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

How long it’s taken me to finish it 🙈🤦🏻‍♀️

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

Never post a multi-chapter fic if I’ve not finished the entire piece.

Check the spelling of the characters’ names before I post the fucking chapter

Consistency is key

The validation of one person saying they like my writing is enough to keep me going and going and going. It’s an incredible feeling, and I am so grateful to each and every person who has liked or commented on the fic or sent me asks about it 🤍✨

[musedblues]

A Taste Of Honey (Part 2)

summary: A 1920's Deacy au! In which the reader, who comes from a family heavily involved in the American temperance movement, meets John, a bootlegger from overseas.

a/n: Well here it is. I'm fully aware interest may be completely lost in this fic but I'm very proud to have finished it. Im not sure where my writing journey will go from here. All I know is that this has been a very long time comin'... enjoy if you dare!

part 1 - 2

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"If anything happens, Deacy, I'll have your head!"

Ivan shook his fist from the front porch, illuminated by the light flooding from the opened front door. 

"I'll be fine!" You dismissed, skipping toward the car, still getting used to the sway of the heavy golden dress you borrowed from Alice. 

"I'm talking about my car!" Ivan shouted, correcting you. John let out a laugh at the remark, and gave your brother a nod, while he opened the passenger door, nudging you toward it.

Your brother and his wife had loaned the essentials to send you and John away for the party a man you never met was throwing. It was a small thrill, the prospect of such fun to be had, in comparison to the sickening exhilaration that coursed through you at the thought of spending any kind of evening at John's side. And the fact he'd asked you to. 

The ride was quiet and short, but dragged on with each new glance you dared to steal at the man driving. Both of John's hands relaxed on the wheel. A hint of that deadly smile on his lips. 

By the time you got to where you were going, you'd been so preoccupied with thoughts of the man by your side, that you'd nearly forgotten your plans for the evening.

If you had any expectations, they were blown clear away. Before you was an estate made up of too many windows to count, draped in vines and hanging lights. 

Even the crunch of the gravel that decorated the winding path you entered into sounded oddly elegant.

Inside was a fever dream of all the things you'd imagined on your short journey into the threshold. Across a giant winding staircase and below the shimmering chandelier were people from all walks of life, crammed together to have one grand time. Different music came from different corners and wild laughter filled the gaps, if there were any. 

And before you, John led the way. You couldn't recall the moment your hand found the bend of his arm, or if he cared that you'd reached out to him as he weaved through the crowd. But the grin on his face when he turned back to catch your eye had to be a good sign; despite the way your heart nearly burst at his look. 

John led you past hoards of people and trays of half full glasses. There was only one way to go, further inside the home, but John seemed to move as if he had an idea of where he was headed. Sure enough when the pair of you met the landing of the staircase, the host of the party was there to greet you. 

The host's initial booming hello was focused mostly on John. And without more than a glance your way, the party thrower shuffled John away from your side, insistent on sharing a chat with him on the top landing of the stairs.

You were left to linger, stalling at the base of the stairs and studying the crowd around you. Girls in beaded skirts and men with slicked back hair passed you by flashing well meaning but entirely distracted smiles. 

You'd felt mesmerized enough by the scene to slowly start to drift into it yourself. Reaching to brush your finger across meticulously carved bookcases and daring to take a glass from the extended hand of the first person to smile directly at you. 

You reached for the stem of the blue stained flute, and managed to make your talk small enough for the interested lad to wander far off. But offers kept coming. Glasses of this and that shoved in your face. You accepted the offers more out of respectful politeness than any eagerness to lose your wits. 

By the time you lost track of everyone's kind gestures, and a man was leading you closer to a table decorated with cards and chips, another hand intervened.

John was back, letting his fingers curl around your shoulder and nudging you in another direction of his choosing. Thrilling as it was for you, to have been handled just so by him, you were a little taken aback. 

Funny how after the sips of this and that, you felt steady as ever. But one look from John and your knees threatened to give out and all your cares too.

In the middle of the packed house, with John looking at you that way, you felt like the only person alive. And somehow this all added up to equal your new found courage to speak a little bolder than usual.

"Are you on strict orders from Ivan to steer me clear of any strange attention or do you maybe fancy me a little, John?" You dared wonder. You almost didn't care of the answer. So long as he kept guiding you through this evening with a strong steady hand.

"Both." John seemed to decide, continuing to guide you along. The pair of you had reached the patio doors by now, and the cool night breeze rushed through in perfect time to ease the heat that had rushed to your cheeks at John's response. 

"Let's go see the gardens!" You decided at first glance of the sprawling greenery that surrounded the estate. 

John let you tug him along, darting between couples and groups who'd come to ruin the fresh air with all their smoke.

He followed along, a very good sport, smiling as you pointed out flowers and trees you didn't realize could bloom in this part of the country. As you turned from marveling over a certain rose's colour, John seemed almost enraptured. Maybe not by your subject but certainly by some part of you. His gaze was fixed, and he seemed to bite back a wider grin. And your already lightened spirits seemed all the more weightless as your eye's met his. 

"If you keep looking at me like that, John, I'm going to have to kiss you." You let a small laugh escape, as the foreigners' expressions remained steadfast. 

He'd kissed you only the night before, on your brother's staircase. It was the only reason you felt free of regret enough to lean in and brush your lips against his again. John reciprocated fondly, letting one of his hands creep around the bend of your waist. You never realized it was possible to feel so happy. 

"Did you do that because you've been drinking? Or do you perhaps fancy me a little?"  John mocked your earlier statement, when the kiss died and your eyes locked. 

"Both." You smiled, charmed enough to try it a second time. But this kiss was broken much sooner than you reckoned any kiss ought to be.

"You know I'll be leaving soon. Just a week's more time." John killed the mood with a few words. You glanced to your feet and muttered understanding, noticing his hand still clutched your waist. 

"I just don't want to see you disappointed." John spoke up after a beat of heavy silence, and the words seemed hard for him to piece together, but he spoke them all the while. 

"Then don't disappoint me." You shrugged, glancing back up to the perfectly handsome man, who's smile seemed sad now.

"Come on, then." John said, moving his hand to find your own. "Not even I get to enjoy parties like this too often."

And you let him guide you back inside. You let the sun set on all the pretty flowers. And you let yourself feel grateful for the rest of the evening at John's side. 

///

He rode the train home with you the next day, sitting across the bench from you, and not saying very much. 

You felt the need to chatter at the pass of every few minutes. You got John to ramble a little about the other places he was due to visit in the states. The guy only one more stop at some.fancy hotel after your town, in the big city, next week. Then he'd head home. 

After explaining as much, the man went quiet again. But you couldn't let the silence last. It was as if you didn't work to hold his attention, it would be lost the next time you looked up. Maybe that wasn't true. But you couldn't risk letting John slip away so easily. Not when your heart practically lept from your chest each time his eyes met yours. If it wasn't meant to be, then so be it. But you were going to fight for the chance that you had, while it was still within reach. 

So when the train pulled into your neighborhood, and John stepped onto the platform, you stopped him waving goodbye. 

"Will you be back? To our shop, I mean?" 

John took a step closer toward you with a very serious expression that softened just before he spoke. 

"I wouldn't dare leave before telling you goodbye." He promised, in a low, sweet manner. 

John pressed his lips to your temple for one brief heavenly moment. And then he turned away to hail a cab. 

At least now, in your terrible mix of emotions, something very bright and warm burned within you. And you got to believe, for a moment, that the same reigned true for John.

///

But all was not well at home. How could it ever be? 

Your mother was horrified that you'd up and left for the night without so much as a word about it to her, and to your brother's home no less. 

Her disdain for her first born left you sick to your stomach more and more each day. 

But this was nothing new. You knew to give the woman a showy apology and to stay silent as she confined you to the kitchen table as she lectured about morality. Tomorrow things would be back to her regular sort of unhappiness. 

What really stopped you cold in your tracks that night, though, was the sight of your father stood in the doorway of your room with his arms crossed.

To bring a frown to his face was your greatest fear. For he'd loved you and shown it. And you dreamed of doing good by him every chance you got. As you stalled in the hall and waited for him to speak his mind, you hoped this would only be a reprimand for causing your mother unnecessary grief, for her madness made you all ten fold more miserable. 

"I know you've been with your brother..." Your father nodded with understanding, not looking right at you as he spoke calmly. "But that also means you've been with John. And I don't like that."

Oh. Ivan had warned you this might be your fathers mood. But you'd ignored his warning in hopes it wouldn't have been true. 

"You know John!" You countered, "You work with him! You're telling me you get to work with a man you don't like but I can't see him?"

"He's a fine man. But all wrong for you." 

"You're supposed to be the one who lets me find these things out on my own." You reminded. Your mother did plenty of directing you from day to day. Your father knew of what you spoke and nodded reluctantly, uncrossing his arms and looking you square in the eye. 

"Well not this time. Stay away from John, you hear me? He'll be gone before you know it anyhow." 

Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze as if to ease the blow of his demands. But as he walked back down the hall, the uncertainty that had stormed within you since John left you at the train station, raged wilder than before. 

What a jam... 

///

There was nothing stopping you from returning back to the depths of the coffee shop, the next time Ivan started up his business. 

Your mother was sound asleep, and your father was already there, serving the last of the coffee up top. Once you arrived you knew he'd be cross but unable to march you away. 

So you slipped on your finest dress and twirled down the rickety staircase that led to the party your brother charged for. 

There were already a good deal of friends jam packed into the small basement; dancing to swells coming from the gramophone and lining up to grab a glass from Ivan's makeshift bar. Your brother flashed a grin when he saw you sauntering in, but his smile turned somewhat more into a worried grimace when he saw you march up the man near the end of those overturned book shelves.

So was everyone concerned over your connection with John? Even the man who'd held your interest sort of frowned at the sight of you demanding his attention. 

John had his fingers curled around a glass. You took it from his grasp and the action made the bootlegger grin oh so slightly. But his frown returned after you slammed back the swallow of liquor in his glass- unsure yourself by what had come over you.

"Hey, come on, don't be that girl." Ivan called to you from behind the bar. You couldn't be sure if he was commenting on the way you'd claimed Deacy's drink for your own, or on the way you seemed too eager to get the stuff in your system. 

Before you could snap back at your brother's comment, though, John spoke up.

"Don't worry about it," He insisted in the charming draw of his. "Just pour me another." And as the man who you adored stepped past you to hold your brothers attention, John sort of let his hand brush across your waist. And he left his fingers to linger along your sides as Ivan, disgruntled, poured another for John. 

"Is that all you cut in line for?" Ivan sighed, nodding toward the few people, impatiently waiting to fill their glasses, stood in a row behind John. 

And you hadn't really considered this before your brothers prompting. But at his asking, you were moved to pull out a twenty dollar bill from your coin purse, and demand he give you your money's worth.

Ivan was reluctant, going on for a bit how once your father spotted you here, like this, that he'd surely be disappointed. And you didn't want that, did you? But little did Ivan know, you'd already disappointed your father. And you were determined to get something you wanted tonight, one way or another.

So with a sigh, Ivan poured you a tall drink and informed you were good to come back for a few more, to match your payment. 

So began your evening of ignoring John's worried remarks about slowing down. And as you kept the drinks coming you weren't even sure why. Perhaps it was to test your very own limits. To somehow prove you were more in control of your path than all the others who seemed to have something to say about the direction of your life. 

And damn John, for the way he kept his eyes locked on yours between the distance he silently kept insisting upon. And damn him for helping you find your balance, despite the steps he kept taking away from you. For letting his hands stay secure around your waist, long after you'd straightened up from stumbling.

And damn your father. He had to have been behind John's change in attitude. From the moment you'd met, John had been a flirt. And steadily, his quips kept getting bolder, until the last party you attended. Ivan's rambling about your fathers dislike of your fondness of John had to be what caused him to step back.

And damn your father, for finding you all dizzy in John's well meaning clutch, now. Your dad pointed to the door and demanded you find your way out of this scene. 

"I know you're not taking her back to your hole in the wall you've been staying at, in the state she's in." You father grumbled in a low curse, his eyes searing into John's. You tightened your hold on the fellow, shooting your father a glare all the same. He couldn't tell you where to go or with who. 

"Take her upstairs if ya like. But don't step foot past the alley. I'll be up in a minute."

After a shared look, John moved, pulling you alongside him. You moved,  happily leaning into him, disgruntled by the course of the evening all the while. Even Ivan seemed to shoot you a sorry grin when he noticed you being marched away, from across the room.

The alley was a little cold. But John's figure was warm. And as you followed his lead pausing just beyond the backdoor, you could feel this chance waiting to slip away. 

"You like me, don't you?" You wondered, turning to face the man you'd been so taken with since the moment he showed up at your door.

"Of course." John nodded, and answered so softly and with such care truly felt as though it were melting. 

"Then kiss me, John." 

"You're drunk."

"But we may never get the chance again. One or both of us are about to be beheaded. Either way, that'll make kissing hard to do from now on." You implored, letting your head fall to rest precariously on his shoulder as you finished your plea. You heard John let out a somber little chuckle as he dared to tighten his arm around you. 

And then you heard a shuffle beyond the backdoor, and let out a sigh at the timing of your father coming to ruin everything. 

But instead, the door bursts open to reveal Rita in a fluster. Her usually perfect makeup streaking down her cheeks. At the sight of the girl you'd always admired, a pang shot through your chest. But not immediately for her upset, whatever it was, but because you realized you'd failed to see your friend here all night, until now.

Before you could apologize, or ask what the matter was, Rita sucked in a breath and let out a string of words for you. 

"He was a snitch. He-he told my parents everything." She stammered, wild eye'd. 

"Who?" You begged to know, having turned away from John, but not having totally turned your attention away from his hand still rested on the small of your back. 

"The pastor's son. Cole. He- he said he was alright with this whole thing. But he... He told your mother. She's on her way here, she's-" 

Sound of a car roared closer, and the engine died away, drowning out the last of Rita's warning. For a second, you thought of making a break for it. But then the click of heels on the pavement seemed to count down your fate.

And then she stood there before you. Your mother, dressed to the nines, complete with her usual scowl.

You couldn't let go of John. Your nails seemed to dig into his side on their own accord. The pair of you stared ahead to the woman who gave you life, and kept you from living it all the same. She stood and stared too, almost like she was giving you a chance. And that was the scariest bit of it all. 

As time seemed to pause, John let your name escape him in a nervous breath, like a warning. Trying to alert you that your hanging off him wouldn't help. But there was no way you were gonna let him go now. 

It was then your mother decidedly sauntered up to the two of you, letting her eyes search your from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and back up again. 

When she let out a scof, you realized you'd been holding your own breath. And when you opened your mouth, willing oxygen in, or words of mitigation out, your mother decided what was next. 

Before you could blink, one of her strong hands was digging into your arm, and she was tearing you away from John's gentle hold.

And despite his caution earlier, you could feel John's hand still trying to keep hold of you, as you were yanked away. The sensation of being taken from the man's clutch was horrid, but what was more painful was the feeling of his fingers trying and failing to keep hold.

So when your mother tossed you aside, toward the brick of the coffee house wall, you were hardly affected; not like you'd only just been.

And when you looked up, after steadying yourself and dusting your stone imprinted hands of dust, John was stepping closer toward your mother. He shouted something at her, about how she didn't have the right to treat you just so. But before he could finish defending you, he was shut down.

Your mothers hand flew across his cheek, and the sound of the slap and John's shocked hiss echoed through the alley and caused something vile to rise in your gut. 

You pushed yourself from the wall then, indifferent to the dizziness you felt, desperate to reach out to the man you'd been so fond of; calling his name.

But your mother was there, more sober and more angry. And she halted your mission to make it to your man, digging her nails into your sides and forcing you in the other direction. 

"John I'm sorry, John..." You called past the lump in your throat. That was when Ivan came upon the scene. He darted from the doorway and did his damnedest to block your mothers storming off. 

"You're a monster. Let her go!" Your brother fummed, as your mother managed to storm around her first born, pushing you along. 

"I'm her mother. And I'll do as I see fit to keep my child out of harm's way." Your mother stated, almost calmly.

"You're no mother. You're a walking nightmare. She's not your plaything-"

"Word's won't fix this, Ivan." You said, reminding him that his defying of the woman only ever made her ten times more evil.

"I'll pray for your children, son." Your mother nodded, opening the passenger door of her car, and flinging you toward the bench. "They're going to need it."

You didn't look to Ivan, as your mother drove off. You didn't dare look to John. You only hung your head and cried silent tears while your mother peeled down the road. And the whole way home, she spat vile things about you and Ivan. Her own children. About your father, her beloved husband. And aout John, a man who, since his arrival, had only tried to help out.

You let your tears dry when the car pulled up to the house you'd never really felt at home in. And went willingly from the ride to the door, knowing you would get very far in the countryside if you dashed away now. You'd need a wiser plan. Still, your mother dug her claws into your arm and marched you up the staircase to your room, like you were a girl no oler to know better. 

"Stay here." She demanded after pushing your further into your bedroom, her fist around the doorknob, establishing total control. 

You expected to be banished here. What you didn't expect, however, was the return of your mother with boards to nail against your windows. You might've laughed if you weren't the one being all locked up. Wasn't this sort of thing only supposed to happen in twisted fairy tales? You're life was twisted enough, you supposed.

She left you there, trapped in the space that was meant to be your own, meant to be safe. As you sulked in silence, the memory of your mothers assault on John haunted you. The horrid sound her action resulted in. His gut wrenching reaction, the small hiss, his stalling in the place she put him in. 

And the way he watched you being dragged off, helpless and sorry for you. It was pathetic, the situation you found yourself in. So you let your tears bubble up again and you cried and cried; until exhaustion set in. Tomorrow was a new day....

///

There was a pounding at your door, loud enough to jolt you from slumber.

"Open up!" The sound of your father calling from beyond the hall stirred you fully conscious. In one swift dash you were stood before your door, jiggling the handle, feeling silly for hoping that would work. 

"She's locked it." You groaned. "Do you have a key?" Your wonder was nearly frantic, and so were you- trying still to twist the knob. At the sound of your fathers grumbled cursing, you began to bustle about for some hair pins, but quickly realized you wouldn'tve had a clue to how to finess the tools into working like another. 

Then you heard your mother. She  shouted down the hall, telling your father to get out of her sight, to leave you be. Shouting that you were better off confined. That you'd be locked away until she found the right reformatory to ship you off to. You knew she meant it. You knew she'd send you away without a care of your consent. 

"She's not a child anymore. You can't just treat her like a bad pet who needs training."

"I'm her mother. And I'll be damned if I don't do what's best for my child. I failed the first time. God knows you never cared about either of them like I care." Your mother spat, breaking your heart and your fathers too no doubt. 

Their bickering lasted a while longer, and you spun away from listening in to force yourself to think. There had to be a way out of here, out of this life. There had to be a way to a better world. 

And the best you could do was wait.  Until dinner. Wait until your mother brought you a tray of soup and bread, trading a few put downs before she twirled from your room. And then you checked the time, and counted down the hours to her always predictable nightly routine.

And you waited still, until your bedside clock ticked well passed after midnight.

And then you used a lamp to pry the nails away from windows. You could tell her bedroom light was out by leaning against the sill.

With no time to spare, you tossed a change of clothes in your purse, and the envelope stashed with tips you'd been saving for over a year. 

It wasn't a very long way down. With the help of a lattice panel and the dark of night, you found grassy freedom in no time. Your heart beat heavy as you crept toward the road. It wouldn't be safe, not until the city lights were in view. But your shoes were flat and your hopes were high.

Miraculously, no one stopped you. Not the truck who zoomed by somewhere still deep along the dark country road. Not the school kids on the edge of town, tossing bottles off the bridge. And not the sleepy clerk at the desk of the hotel you raced into. 

"Be here, be here, be here..." You prayed under your breath, hurrying to the room you remembered John booking. And right as you rounded the hall, the door of the room you'd been in search of opened. 

But the squeak of wheels gave away the presence of a maid, pushing her cart of cleaning supplies out into the hall.

"He's gone?" You sighed, stopping at the end of the hall, your feet aching after moving so ceaselessly through the night. 

"Whoever was here left a while ago." The maid stopped for a moment, looking to you with a sorry expression. "Around dinner time."

"Right. Is there a phone at the desk?" 

The maid nodded and wished you luck, and you thanked her for it. You'd need as much as you could get. 

The clerk who was still kicked back, sleeping, startled at your ringing the bell on the desk. And though they didn't seem pleased at your begging to use the phone, they let you.

It only rang twice. 

"Hello?" Your fathers voice was a pleasant surprise. Of course he'd gone to stay with Ivan, in the midst of all this chaos. 

"Dad, Im-"

"Where are you? Does she know you've gone? I'll come fetch you."

"No." You implored, holding up a hand as if he could have seen your insistence.  "No I've phoned to let you know I'm taking the train to the city. I've got to find John before he leaves. And I'm sure of where he is. I've got to try." 

John had told you where he was headed next, on your last train ride together. And you'd felt silly for keeping the details at the front of your memory... until now.

The other line went quiet for a beat. And you'd fully prepared yourself for your fathers disapproval. But then he just said,

"Okay." Your father seemed to realize the weight of your feelings, you thought, by his tone of voice. "I knew you'd get out of there, eventually." And once more, you could tell by his tone he wasn't just referring to the room you'd been locked in for the last couple nights. "Phone us again, when you're safe and sound. I know you will be."

At his blessing, tears sprung in your eyes. You were going to go no matter what. But to have your father on your side made you even more determined to fly out of this hotel, and to the next one you knew John was meant to be staying at. 

///

Booking a train ticket was nearly impossible. And if you had spent much longer pleading with the station, you would have missed the bus pulling up down the block, offering rides in the right direction. 

The couple hour journey was maddening, and thrilling, and terrifying all at once. You were on your way to change your life. No matter what John said, or how he greeted you; no matter if he fell into your embrace or left you in the hotel lobby, you'd never go back the way you'd come from. 

And luckily, you managed to find the hotel John had briefly spoken of, without much trouble. It was the grandest of the business booming on this side of the city. Folks flooded in and out of the revolving doors, as you considered the past set of days that had led you to standing before here with such an erratic heartbeat.

But you only stayed paused for a moment. Your feet were darting inside before your mind caught up with how close you were to the mission at hand. 

The lobby was just as full of people as the revolving doors had been, lines forming near the desk, groups fighting to fit their luggage into golden elevators. 

And though you hated to be the person you'd decided to be, you dashed to the end of the front desk, hoping the clerk would spare you a minute at most. 

"I just need to know if someone's booked a room." You begged to know, shooting sorry looks to the people you'd cut in front of. The clerk seemed to have no patients for you, but miraculously, another set of hands swooped in to help. Some nice older woman flipped through the bookings to find John's name, after you gave it, and came up short.

"What about Deacy?" You hoped all of a sudden, quickly beginning to lose your ambition the longer she shook her head.

You'd done what you could, rudely so. And scurried away so your unwelcome presence would no longer be in the way of things.

And as you sauntered away, giving one last pathetic glance about the crowded lobby, you reminded yourself that it was all alright. You might not have found John. But you were finally free.

And then you pushed through the revolving door. And past your ghostly reflection, you spotted a familiar set of grey eyes. 

John seemed to wait until your gaze registered his own, before spinning around to make it indoors. You ignored the chilly night air and pushed on until you were right back where you'd just started to leave from. 

There he was, before you as real and sure as the sun and moon.

"You never gave me a proper goodbye." You reprimanded through a growing smile. He'd promised to give you a farewell, once. 

"How about a rain check? I've got lot's more important things to tell you, as a matter of fact." The man you'd come to adore smiled then, and offered his arm. You held on without hesitation and managed to follow his lead through the crowd, to the room he'd been staying in.

It was a humble little space, his suitcase opened on the coffee table and a yellow lamp left on by the window. John shut the door behind you with a soft click, loosening the pale blue tie round his neck, as you glanced about the room.

"I came by. Your place, I mean." John admitted, leaning against the closed door, as you turned from admiring the wall art to face him.

"You did?"

And then John said your father had dragged the Brit along, that night he'd knocked at your door. John was outside with high hopes. But your mother had caught your father before you'd even known there was a plan. 

"So you did try to come and tell me goodbye." You laughed a little, kind of glad he wasn't able to. This reality where you'd run to him was much more befitting to the situation, you thought. 

"Well, no." John pointed, not laughing along with you. "I never really wanted to say goodbye."

You stood there, taking in the sight of him. Watching John's brows oh so slightly furrow upward, hope pouring from his expression. You considered the gleam in his eye and the way he slowly seemed to shift his posture a little closer to you. 

"So we haven't got to part ways in a hurry then?" You wondered. Asking more than if you could linger a while longer in his rented room.

John seemed to know what you were asking. He seemed relieved, too. His shoulders loosened as the man crossed the space between you, in no big hurry. It seemed the two of you had all the time in the world at your disposal, now. John took his time, reaching out to tuck away some loose hairs near your ear. And his smile grew steadily too. By the time the guy pressed a kiss to your lips, you'd been wondering if the dawn would be breaking any time soon.

But the longer John went on kissing you, the less you thought of the sunrise. As John enclosed you in his arms, all your thoughts were of the man you'd come to adore. 

And as laid next to him and closed your eyes to the rising sun, you couldn't recall ever having experienced such a bright morning. 

"So you're not too eager to head back home, yeah?" John asked, once you'd both stirred from a restful slumber.

"I think I found a much more suitable place to be." You smiled, referring to the spot you'd settled under John's arm. 

And it didn't take much convincing on his end for you to agree on catching the next boat across the pond. 

///

The other line rang so long you'd almost decided to hang up. Then your brother answered. 

"Helllooooo!" He sang in a chipper timbre, making you wonder if he'd been expecting you at exactly this time, or if he answered everyone that way.

"Well I was going to ask how you were but it seems you're so well I don't have to wonder." You laughed into the receiver. 

The morning was early, and a breeze blew back a sheer curtain, obscuring your view of the grey English morning. 

Ivan spent the next few minutes yaking about how glad he was to hear from you. And you were glad to listen. On your rather spontaneous journey overseas, you were bogged down for a brief moment, at the thought of being so far from your dear brother. But as he rambled in your ear now, you'd never felt closer to him.

Ivan asked how things were. He asked after John, and that mattered so much more to you than his concerns for your well being. And when you had had your fill of the attention being on you, you begged your brother to give you all the details of what happened after you ditched home.

He said your mother was as furious as expected. Said she tried to blame your brother and her husband for your running off. Said she tried to get the police to shut down the coffee house for hosting such an undignified business after hours.

"You should'a seen her face when she found out officer Willard was our most loyal customer." Ivan chuckled. 

"We did have to pay a fine, in the end, so she'd quit her raving. It was almost everything we'd saved away for the baby." 

Your brother sighed. And you cooed his name in commiseration. 

"But my friend who owns that estate, the one who threw that party John took you to," Ivan explained. "He was good enough to loan us a bit of cash to stash away." Your brother said the man tried to give the money away outright, as a thank you to Ivan for helping start up his own speakeasy of sorts. But Ivan was dead set on paying him back, one day.

"Now we can't decide to name the babe after him, or John." Ivan chuckled. 

"And what if it's a girl?" You mused. 

"That'll just have to be a surprise." Ivan said, and just then the line went dead. You called your brother's name with a little hope he'd come back to tell you more. 

But you didn't worry when the line went on buzzing. You'd see him and his darling wife and his child to be, one day. You'd see your father too, if he was still hiding out at your brothers place. Hell, maybe they'd all come over here. 

Maybe you'd build a life with John, in his humble little English flat. You certain felt at home, watching the guy of your fancy stay dreaming as the sun rose. 

John had been kind to you. He'd been your friend when he didn't have to be. He'd let you lean into him, and he laughed at your jokes. He invited you into his world and smiled wide the closer your ship rolled toward London. 

And he'd treated your shoes as if they'd always been stored in the middle of the welcome mat. John opened his space up to you, and asked every night for the first few weeks, if you were happy, if you needed anything more. Your answers were always yes and no. 

And he didn't need to ask for honey in his coffee anymore. You just knew to add a little in the warm cup you'd have ready near the place he liked to sit in the morning. 

It was familiar and it was sweet, and so was John. Maybe he liked honey in his tea, too. And dear God, how you prayed every year from here on out; got to be spent guessing at life alongside the man who'd thrilled you by wondering all your answers all along.

[theunderdogwrites]

In Defense of Marilyn Manson

Just kidding.

This is another one of those ‘if you live under a rock, you might not know what is going on’ pieces. But because this story appears to be unfolding daily, I’d think you’ve heard a murmur here or there even if you haven’t really paid too much attention to it because for many, I think this may fall into the “that guy has been a messed-up weirdo for years so I’m not surprised” category.

Please note that in NO WAY I am making fun of this situation, but I learned a long time ago that I require a certain amount of humor to be able to digest much of what this world presents to me.

As always, let me give you the Coles Notes version with the hopes you will go and do your own reading as well.

On February 1 actress Evan Rachel Wood posted this on her Instagram:

"The name of my abuser is Brian Warner, also known to the world as Marilyn Manson. He started grooming me when I was a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I was brainwashed and manipulated into submission. I am done living in fear of retaliation, slander or blackmail. I am here to expose this dangerous man and call out the many industries that have enabled him, before he ruins any more lives. I stand with the many victims who will no longer be silent."

Quick history lesson – They started dating in 2007 when she was 18 and he was 34 and were engaged for a brief time in 2010.

This was Manson’s response to what she wrote:

"Obviously, my art and my life have long been magnets for controversy, but these recent claims about me are horrible distortions of reality. My intimate relationships have always been entirely consensual with like-minded partners. Regardless of how - and why - others are now choosing to misrepresent the past, that is the truth."

Since the original statement on February 1 a number of women have come forward with stories of their own ranging from physical and emotional abuse to human trafficking. And everyday something new is revealed. Evan Rachel Woods is feverishly posting on her Insta-Story and is slowly burying Manson in an ocean of consequences. She isn’t “fired up” or “a woman scorned”, she is a victim rising above the shame she has felt and the fear of what others will say about her to tell her story and encourage others to do the same. She is the voice that started the ball rolling. The ball that is about to crush Marilyn Manson.

Whenever I write stuff that is currently being heavily featured in the media, I always dive into articles so I can get as much information as possible. But more importantly, I plunge my sensitive little soul into the murky depths known as “the comments section”. I do this because unlike those polished, finished pieces the comments section will give you a better idea of what your fellow human beings think and feel about the topic at hand. And it is never polished or even polite. And often not for the faint at heart. In case you didn’t already know – people can be quite terrible.

The comments section is the modern-day gladiator pit. Only most (not all) of the participants are not ripped, athletic warriors but rather drooling basement dwellers with one hand down their pants (not gender specific by the way) and the other hand maltreating the letters on their keyboard.

Side note: Look, I am not the grammar police as I often just push past all the warnings from the Gestapo editing program in Microsoft Word. BUT I know the value of proper spelling, well placed punctuation and valid attempts to appear smarter than a domesticated turkey by making sure sentences are well-thought out and complete. Raising your argument doesn’t mean USING ALL CAPS AND ABUSING THESE THINGS -> !!!

I just deleted three paragraphs going over the recent “reckoning” that has taken place in the past few years with regards to sexual and physical abuse accusations against (mostly) men in positions of some kind of power. I eliminated all that writing because I started to tumble off topic. I’m not writing about all the dicks now getting their comeuppance, but rather the reactions to it being Marilyn Manson’s turn in the chamber.

Victim shaming is sadly a real thing.

The easiest way I can explain this to you – if a person gets pickpocketed and then blamed because they should’ve known better than to carry their wallet in their back pocket.

Evan Rachel Woods and others have come out to accuse Manson of some pretty appalling acts of abuse and what I’ve found to be the biggest reaction is, “How did they not know he was a bad guy? His music is so graphic and they thought it was all an act? Why did they stay so long?”. As innocent as those questions might seem, and I say that because our brains don’t always serve us or others well, it is a form of discrediting those women. Let’s be honest here… it’s hard to look at Marilyn Manson and his art form and not say, “What the fuck, this guy has bad idea written all over him!”. I feel that is a perfectly reasonable response, but that is where it should end. I think it is fair to pause and attempt to understand the choices of others, but it’s heartless to minimize their experience by placing blame on them for a situation we couldn’t possibly understand if it has never happened to us.

And like I’ve quoted before: People only understand from their level of perception. But that doesn’t stop them from laying on the judgement and damaging already fragile individuals with their inability to show compassion for a fellow human being. Reading through comment sections isn’t just maddening, it’s disappointing and sad but also a real look into how awful many people feel about themselves… to the point where they seem to derive some pleasure or satisfaction from condemning a rape victim for wearing a short skirt and getting drunk.

So… we have to touch on this to be balanced: innocent until proven guilty. Only these days it’s an automatic trial by media with the public acting as judge, jury and executioner. This is where “cancel culture” steps in and within days can destroy an entire career / life. I am not a fan of cancel culture. It does not give people a chance to learn from their mistakes or make amends as it immediately harms their very existence. Often times even before any proof has surfaced. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous this is… the fact that just an accusation could ruin your life.

Let me make this clear: if someone comes forward and claims they’ve been sexually assaulted/abused, they need to be taken seriously and not dismissed based upon the circumstances, their gender identity, the color of their skin, their economic position or profession or the person they’re accusing. In turn, the individual being accused should be given time to address the claims before the public begins demolishing their life.

A reoccurring comment in almost all these cases where someone comes forward and alleges abuse YEARS after it happened, is – “Why did they wait so long to come forward?”.

Is this a fair question? Sure. And I feel it is asked because our brain needs to find a way to understand the information we are being given. Because while we’d all like to think that if in the same situation we’d be unfuckable with and anyone who dared to bring damage to our doorstep would immediately suffer the consequences, we actually cannot predict our reaction. There are too many unknown variables to be able to confidently say we’d instantly speak up and seek retribution.

The fear of not being believed. The fear of being blamed. The fear of rejection. The fear of retaliation from the person being accused. The fear of being forever defined by your experience. The fear.

It does not matter the why, what matters is the chance they’ve taken by speaking up at all. Those who come forward should be embraced, not ridiculed. Not abandoned. Not criticized.

“Don’t ask why victims wait so long to speak up. Ask what systems were in place to keep them quiet”. Anonymous

I own a few Marilyn Manson CD’s. And I’ve even attended one of his concerts. Would I say I am a fan? Probably a number of years ago I was but truthfully, I’ve not paid attention to any of his music in recent years because I feel it devolved while my taste evolved. That’s not a slam against him or anyone who fancies his work, it’s more a statement on how I’ve matured and now seek out music that feels authentic to me.

The one concert I attended was opened by Courtney Love. I know, what a duo to pay money to see. Near the end of Manson’s set he made a disparaging remark about Love and trashed her music. At the time he was wearing some pretty hefty platform shoes so it made it all the more hilarious when from out of nowhere she charged like a rhino and tackled him to the stage; throwing punches at his head all the way down. When he finally was able to get up, he announced the show was over. There would be no encore and then him and his bandmates trashed the stage in a temper tantrum worthy of a toddler Napoleon. Still makes me laugh to this day.

Shoutout to Evan Rachel Wood and her most recent movie ‘Kajillionaire’. Watched it on demand about a month ago and it’s a brilliant comedy that will also pull at your heart. I highly recommend you give it a chance.

Check out the trailer:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiMPCevu8Wk

[lov3nerdstuff]

White Queen

*Loki x reader*

Parts: Oneshot

Words: 5.9k (hell, I just can't write short stuff anymore)

Warnings: none

Request: Not a request, but a gift to the lovely @beenthroughalot who I absolutely dedicate this to 💚✨

Summary: When Tony Stark throws a costume party, you need to come up with an idea. Quickly. So why not take the god of mischief costume shopping? He seems eager enough to help. Yet, you dressing up as the white queen for the night makes Loki painfully aware that he would prefer you to be his queen indeed.

A.N.: Sorry I still suck at summaries... 💗✨ This is basically Loki realizing that every darkness needs a bit of light and every light a bit of darkness. Fluff! 💚 Also, this is referring to the white queen from Alice in Wonderland!

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Chilled morning air flooded your lungs, crisp in a way that soothed your ever troubled mind and bearing the tiniest droplets of water, in the gentle transition from dawn's fog to noon's impending rain. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes in bliss at this little piece of gloomy autumn solitude. It had been a rough night, filled with nightmares and pictures you tried to lock out of your mind for all times, finally leaving behind anxiety ridden thoughts in their downward spiral.

But the little shiver, the goosebumps this breath of morning air brought to your heated skin gently reminded you that you were alive, breaking through a deep water's surface after almost drowning.

The pleasant smell of moist soil, wet withered leaves in every color you could wish for, mingled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and you inevitably had to smile as you stood on your little balcony in the Avengers base. Maybe having a room right above the kitchen did have its perks, after all.

It was early still. The only people up at sunrise would be Tony, probably the person currently making coffee in the room beneath you, Steve, probably working out in the gym, you, most definitely freezing, and Loki… And who knew what Loki was up to at any time of the day.

You sighed. Thinking of the god brought both a smile and a frown to your face. He had been living in the room next to yours for a little over a year now, and you had found yourself drawn to him from the very first day. Not only were his eloquence and sophistication traits you could spend eternities delving into, but they also made him the only person in the team who was even remotely able to keep up with you, to interest you and understand the intricate ways of your mind.

After a few weeks of being around him more and more, as you were the only person he would willingly spend time with, you had grown to admire the entirety of Loki's being. The way he saw the world, the way he thought and expressed those thoughts to you… it all drew you to him with an increasing force. Like a black hole that swallowed every last bit of light, Loki dared to consume your every thought and you found yourself unable to resist, to stay away even if it would be for the better. You doubted that he would have any romantic interest in you (why would he, after all?), only allowing you to dwell in his presence because he deemed you the most bearable, the lesser evil.

But you were proud that he seemed to enjoy talking to you, that you were the only person he really talked to at all, and maybe that just had to be enough.

"Good morning." Loki's smooth voice startled you, causing you to jump and grab onto the railing so tightly that your knuckles turned white.

Your head whipped around for your eyes to meet his as he was standing on his own balcony, a few feet away from yours, looking over at you with an intrigued expression.

"Hey Loki…" You finally replied, giving him a small smile as you willed your heart to slow down. For whatever (not so miraculous) reason, it picked up speed every time he was close to you.

"I apologise for startling you, that wasn't my intention." He said calmly, and the depth of his voice brought another kind of shiver to your already chilled skin. "Are you cold?"

"Uh… yeah, a little." You shrugged, smiling at him once again. "But it's fine, I was just enjoying the fresh air after a rough night."

"Well, maybe you would like to join me in a venture to find some coffee, then?" He offered you a smile in return, raising an eyebrow at you in question.

"I'd really love to." You grinned back and after quickly putting on a loosely knitted cardigan, you met Loki in the hallway and together you made your way downstairs into the kitchen.

"Y/n! Up early as ever, aren't we?" Tony greeted you with a smirk as Loki and you entered the grand open space of the kitten.

"Hey Tony." You smiled back, taking two mugs out of the cupboard and handing one to Loki, who rolled his eyes at Stark's ignorance of his presence. It was always like this, and it had been from the very beginning: the team would mostly ignore Loki and if they didn't, Loki would ignore them instead.

"Have you gotten your costume ready yet?" Tony asked you as he absentmindedly scrolled through the news on his tablet.

"What costume?" You frowned as Loki poured steaming coffee into both your mugs, then adding a dash of milk to yours. It made you smile involuntarily that he knew just how you liked your coffee, and it didn't help at all with your frantic heartbeat that he took the time to prepare it for you.

"Well, I assumed you would be wearing a costume to the COSTUME party I'm hosting tonight." Tony frowned back at you, letting his gaze wander over your small frame first, then over Loki who was considerably taller and leaning against the counter next to you, sipping his coffee with a completely indifferent expression.

"Oh god, that's today?!" Your mouth dropped open as you looked at Tony in shock, then at Loki with a small frown. "I haven't even come up with an idea for a costume!"

"Well, you still have the whole day today to see to it." Tony shrugged, getting up from his barstool and sauntering to the door. "I'll be in the lab if you need help with anything… or some better company."

"Thanks, but I have Loki to help me and keep me company." You said a little too defensively for your own liking. It was true though, whenever you needed help with anything, you would always come to Loki first. Somehow… you knew that he would always be your safe haven, even if he'd deny it out of pride in his mischievous ways.

"Whatever…" Tony sighed before disappearing out of the room and thus from your sight.

"I'm not going to be of any help to you." Loki said as soon as he knew Tony would be out of earshot.

"What?" You turned to him in an instant, wide eyes filled with disappointment looking up at his calm ones. "Why not?"

"I'm not going to that party, first of all." He replied with a shrug. "And I am not good with costumes. I use magic for that kind of thing, and I have no knowledge about crafting costumes without it."

You frowned deeply and took a big sip of your coffee, burning your tongue on the still too hot liquid and hissing at the immediate pain and numbness that followed.

"Careful, darling…" Loki mused, in sincere concern rather than mockery, taking a sip of his own coffee while your skin tingled at the name he just called you. If only you hadn't fallen in love with him… maybe there would still be the chance to develop a real friendship.

"Well, I… I haven't ever been to a costume party before and I'm looking forward to dressing up." You said as neutrally as you could, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself.

"I'm sorry if I have disappointed you, but I simply do not wish to spend the night with a group of people who despise me to the very essence of their being." He replied in the same calm as before, placing his empty mug in the sink before moving to stand in front of you. "I'm sure you will have a great time without me."

You looked at him with a forced smile, thinking about when his presence had become a requirement for your happiness. "I understand." But really, you didn't. Wasn't it enough for him that you would be there? Obviously not, and that knowledge hurt a lot more than you would've liked.

"I will be in my room, if you need me." He offered you a soft smile in return, one that was solemnly reserved for you, in the most private of moments. With a nod and a flutter of your heart, you let him go.

After taking a few minutes for yourself to get your emotions back under control, you actually felt ready to tackle the task at hand.

Even if Loki wouldn't be there to see you, you still wanted to have a fun night and an amazing costume that would leave people impressed.

Thus you returned to your room, getting dressed in something warm enough to withstand the increasingly cold and wet weather, before finally finding yourself in front of Loki's door yet again. A little reluctantly you knocked, then opened the door a tiny slit. "Loki?"

"How many times will I have to tell you that you may just walk in?" He replied with a small, yet amused sigh and you opened the door wide enough to step into his room (which looked more like a small library indeed, a palace of knowledge and dreams, escape routes into different worlds).

"Well, I… I was just wondering if you needed anything from the city. I'm going shopping for a costume." You said softly, watching Loki as he sat in the windowsill, reading peacefully as always. Behind him, outside of his small realm of endless possibilities, the rain hit the window with increasing speed to create a soft and steady drumming. A perfect echo of your heartbeat.

"Are you sure you want to go out there?" He asked in return, motioning to the approaching storm outside.

"Yeah. I really need a costume and I don't have any idea yet, nor anything that could even remotely be used as a costume. Don't really have a choice." You sighed, already freezing as you watched the trees outside bend concerningly in the strong blow of the wind.

"You could also stay here and drink tea with me. Read a little..." Loki mused, eyes returning to the book in his lap. If there had been time, you would have liked to spend hours just watching him read. It was beyond fascinating to watch his reaction whenever he read a piece of fiction, his face telling a story of its own, while hearing him read poetry in that liquid velvet voice was addicting like the strongest drug, enchanting to enjoy and leaving you craving for more.

"Can't we drink a tea tonight, once I'm back?" You asked as your heart felt painfully torn. "I really want to do both, but I need a good costume first."

"Don't mind me. I will be here, tonight, tomorrow… probably forever, if you need that long."

You chuckled at the irony in his voice. "Yeah, sure… Forever will be just long enough. Maybe I should simply dress up as you and annoy the hell out of everyone at that party. Cause some mayhem around the compound..."

"That, my dear, is the first decent costume idea I have heard all day." He smirked at the book as he still had his eyes fixed on the very same page, his whole expression screaming of an emotion you couldn't quite put a name to. "But I'm sure you will find something that's better suited for you."

"If I ever get going, I actually might." You chuckled. "Is there anything you need? I'm not overly fond of going to the city, because honestly the crowds give me anxiety to just think about, so keep that in mind when you ask me to bring you something ridiculous."

For a moment Loki only stared at his book, and you almost believed that he was ignoring you because of the tease, but a few seconds later he sighed and closed the book in his hand while rising to his feet, moving to put the book back into a shelf.

"C'mon Loki, just answer my question and I can finally go. I get that you don't like costume parties, but this is really important to me and I just wanted to be nice and ask if you need anything. So please, just say no and I can go." You sighed almost desperately now. "I'm sorry if I've overdone the teasing or anything, but…"

"I'm coming with you." He announced, changing his clothes into an entirely black suit and a warm coat with merely a soft green light.

"What...?" Your eyes widened, heart picking up speed again.

"I'm coming to the city with you. You asked me for help earlier and I said I wasn't of any help in crafting a costume. However I'm more than decent at fighting off crowds." Loki stated calmly, walking past you and holding the door open.

You looked at him in utter surprise for a moment, then started smiling widely. "That's really nice of you… to help me, I mean."

"Of course I'm helping you." He frowned at you as you walked into the hallway. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I… don't know." You simply replied, not in the mood to doubt his motives, only feeling very glad indeed that he would be coming with you. Going to the city alone wasn't THAT bad, but it still made you nervous at times. And it meant a whole lot to you that Loki would be coming with you now.

"Where do you think you're going?" Steve called once Loki and you crossed the entrance hall, heading towards the garages.

"Shopping!" You replied happily, giving the soldier a friendly smile. "Still need a costume."

"And what's HE doing?" Steve questioned, looking at Loki in deep suspicion, who only rolled his eyes in return and your face also fell.

"HE is my friend, Steve. And he's coming with me to help." You answered scoldingly, even though you knew it wouldn't be of any use. There was no amount of redemption that could change the way the Avengers saw Loki, and the thought left a painful sting in your heart and a longing to amend the wrong done to him.

"If you say so…" Steve mused, giving you a disapproving look before heading on towards the living room where the party preparations were already busying more people than you cared to count.

"I don't understand what you see in these people." Loki sighed as you made your way towards the row of cars, neatly lined up in the parking ground.

"I don't understand what they see in me! I'm no different than you, really…" You shrugged with a grin. "But since Tony likes me, we can at least pick a car now."

"Do you wish to drive or shall I?" Loki asked politely, yet not without a smirk of his own.

"Feel free to choose." You chuckled, pointing to the board of car keys on the wall and a few minutes later he drove off the parking ground with a rather dangerous speed that left you feeling calm nonetheless. You knew that you were completely safe with him, both physically and mentally and you smiled to yourself as you made your way through the heavy rain, towards the city.

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You had roamed through multiple stores, looked at a thousand different costumes of witches, vampires, horror clowns and nurses and yet you hadn't even wanted to try a single one on. They all screamed Halloween, screamed 'hey there, look at me', screamed naked skin and boozy nights. Nothing spoke to you at all, and after three hours your energy equaled that of an unwatered plant in the scorching summer heat. Only difference being that it was still raining, and you felt increasingly sorry for having dragged Loki along with you. In his defense, he had not once complained about the time you took, or about your sarcastic commentary of both the strangers you passed and the costumes you saw. Rather on the contrary, he had seemed fairly amused by your relentless sarcasm and even gone along with it most of the time.

Yet, after having gone through so many stores, you had decided to take a break and buy him coffee as a thank you for making this whole experience a lot more bearable. Thus you found yourself sitting in a corner coffee shop, in a cozy little nook that shielded you from the crowds and yet allowed you to watch the pouring rain outside. Loki had picked the place, and you had felt yourself enjoying it immediately after setting foot in it. You always enjoyed the things Loki would pick, or show to you… it was as if he just knew you so perfectly well that everything he did went along with you like a seamless transition from his very being to yours. It could get quite scary at times.

"I'm really sorry that you haven't found the right costume yet…" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into the real world, as you warmed your chilled hands on the hot porcelain of your mug.

"Oh, don't be. I'm the one who needs to be sorry for dragging you outside in this weather… and for making you help me." You sighed, studying his marvelous features in the dim glow of the distant fireplace.

"Why would you be sorry for asking me for help?" He questioned with a frown, taking a sip from his steaming mug. It was a miracle how he could drink the hottest liquids without hurting himself… maybe he used magic, or maybe he just didn't feel pain anymore.

"I'm sure you would've had something better to do back at the compound… I mean I'm just me, really, and I'm sure spending time with me isn't on top of your list of fun activities." You snorted to yourself, sadly, looking down at the small bursting foam bubbles of the steamed milk, slowly swirling on top of your coffee in a hypnotically slow spiral.

"That is a really odd thing to say, darling. Shopping isn't on top of my list of fun activities, that indeed is true… but spending time with you isn't as much an activity as it is a necessity to me." He replied with a smile, looking at you in a mixture of humor and curiosity.

“A necessity?” You wondered, deeply frowning at Loki in return. Sometimes it was just impossible to decrypt what he was saying and differentiate it from the meaning behind his words.

“It’s fairly easy, really, but let me illustrate it to you… You, my dearest Y/n, are inherently good. Not because you made it your mission, or because you are expected to be, and that is truly remarkable. You are a bright light in your entirety, to me, a beacon of hope and a promise of a future that I have never deemed possible before our first meeting. I, on the other hand, am not inherently the way I am by nature, but definitely by circumstance. I am a deeply blemished creature, darling. Flawed to the very core.”

“I most definitely beg to differ!” You replied immediately, letting go of his insufficient explanation on why he would deem you a necessity in order to right this wrong he was doing to himself. “I am not entirely good! And neither are you a bad person for that matter, even if you obviously seem to think that.”

"I don't think I'm a bad person. I know for a fact that I am not a good man."

"But the world isn't black and white, Loki!" You protested, eyes digging into his in attempt to make him understand. He was a good person indeed, perfect to you in his being, even if you couldn't tell him without giving yourself away.

"You are a creature of the light, Y/n, while I am a creature of the dark. You cannot deny that." He gave back with a serious expression, looking at you almost sadly.

"I don't care what you say, there's no light without darkness and no darkness without light. Nothing is inherently good or bad!" Your heart clenched painfully, trying to break free from your rib cage in vain.

“This promises to be a very interesting discussion, but I’m afraid we will have to continue it another time. Let’s say for now that you are on top of my list indeed.” He mused, finishing his coffee while you took the first reluctant sips of your own. That is when an idea struck you, like a lightning rippling through a tree and dooming it catch fire with a sudden intensity, destined to burn until nothing would be left.

“I have an idea for a costume.” You blurted out, making Loki’s eyes shift to yours yet again.

“Care to tell me?”

“Nope. Not yet. We’ll have to find some very specific items and I don’t want you to mock me the entire time.” You chuckled, looking at him with a little more adoration than you wanted to let on as he rolled his eyes but failed to hide his smirk from you. Loki would be your inevitable doom and you knew it, but at least you could make the road to hell a fun one indeed.

After also finishing your coffee a little while later, and after having ignored Loki’s intrigued gaze on you for the better part of said while, you both returned your mugs and left the coffee shop to be released out of the warmth into the cruelly whipping rain.

First of all, you browsed through a few of the stores you usually went to, in search of something that would even remotely come close to the picture you had in your head. Loki patiently trailed along, however using absolutely every opportunity to point out that he would be of more help if he knew just what you wanted to represent.

Soon enough you ran out of stores to search through, and your desperation really showed more with every passing minute. Why did this have to be so difficult?

“This is not making you happy, and I don’t like it.” Loki suddenly commented, taking a hold of your elbow to keep you from walking on without him.

“What?” You frowned, ignoring the scorching burst of energy that erupted in your heart upon his touch. Loki never touched you if it wasn’t utterly necessary, so this unique sensation, even through so many layers of clothes, was very much new and very much welcome indeed.

“I am pointing out that this whole hunt for a costume was supposed to be fun for you, but by now I get the impression that it is more of a burden than a fun activity indeed.” He shrugged, looking into your eyes in a way that inevitably made you shiver. “Maybe we should reconsider our options?”

“I really wanted this to be fun, but I just can’t seem to find what I’m looking for in any of those stupid stores.” You sighed.

“Well, since you’re refusing to let me in on what you want to represent, would you at least tell me what you want the costume to look like?” He asked in such a kind voice that your heart skipped a beat at the realization that he really was trying to help you, and that he was honestly concerned about your happiness. You wouldn’t let your mind delve into what that might mean right now.

"I'm looking for an elegant, white gown." You started, sighing as you stood in the middle of the sidewalk, only shielded from the crowds by Loki's larger frame in front of you. It was weird really, how everyone just stepped out of your way when you were with Loki… You hadn't been jostled by anyone at all today, and that seriously left you wondering if people just avoided Loki or if he was keeping them away from you intentionally, with magic or anything else you weren't supposed to know about.

"A white dress… of the sort the women here wear when they are to be wed?" He inquired, rising an eyebrow in honest curiosity. Obviously he really had no intention of mocking you for now, so you loosened up a little.

"Well, yeah, something of that sort…" You shrugged. "But I haven't seen any dress that looked like that yet."

"Why don't you just buy a wedding dress indeed?"

"C'mon Loki, I can't buy a wedding dress as a costume! Do you know how crazy expensive those things are? And it would be really awkward." You mumbled as your cheeks heated up, bringing a touch of crimson to your face despite the cold autumn air.

"Why don't you do that kind of thing Thor tried a few weeks ago when he really wanted that stupid flannel shirt?"

"Thrifting?" You rose an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "I'm not entirely sure if secondhand stores even sell those kinds of garments."

"You'll be, once we try it." He shrugged, giving you a small smile that made you return the tiniest of smiles. It truly was a loss for humanity that Loki only ever smiled around you, that you were just certain of. He could be so incredibly nice and lovely if only he wanted to… which he never did, with anyone but you.

"Alright…" You sighed. "Let's look, at least. I just REALLY want a good costume."

Thus you made your way to the next secondhand shop, looking through their collection of clothes but you didn't find anything that even came close. So you went on to the next, and the next, until in the fourth one you finally found a whole collection of wedding dresses.

"So those garments are what you were looking for?" Loki asked, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you watching the dresses with a frown.

"Uh, yeah… I guess." You answered in a small voice, searching through the many different dresses.

"Can I help you?" An overly friendly, elderly woman asked, smiling so brightly at you that you were sure her cheeks must hurt.

"Uhm… I was just looking at the dresses really…" You replied, looking at her first, then at Loki with an equally lost and desperate expression.

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something for such a lovely young couple!" She beamed at you, then at Loki a little more reluctantly. "When do you plan on getting married, lovelies?"

You immediately blushed a deep shade of red, suppressing the urge to just grab Loki and run, while Loki for his part only stared at the woman without saying a single word.

"Uh, that's… that's not…" You stuttered, unsure of how to appropriately tell her that you needed the dress for a costume and not to actually get married!

"Sooner rather than later, that is precisely why we are here now." Loki finally replied with the most stoic expression, and your cheeks heated up even more as you merely stared at your feet. God, he was good at lying… maybe he'd have to teach you how to do that one day.

"Oh, don't worry about a thing! We're gonna find a nice dress for you, dear." The woman still smiled brightly as she turned to you, then to the dresses. "Are you looking for something simple and easy or rather something bold?"

"Uhm… I'm not entirely sure. Something with a simple top and a larger skirt maybe?" You shrugged, fighting the blush off your cheeks for good as you looked at Loki who was just smirking to himself as he sauntered around in the small store. At least one person was having fun, currently.

The sales assistant ushered you into a changing cubicle and made you try on multiple dresses, which just looked horrendous on you. To your poor mind, buying a wedding dress, even if for the solemn sake of a costume, was a really odd thing to do and you kept feeling a little awkward as you looked at yourself in all those dresses. After half an hour of changing again and again, the elderly woman finally brought you a dress that alone by its look on the hanger caught your immediate interest. It was truly beautiful, not too simple and not too elaborate… almost ideal. Once you'd out it on, you found that it fit you almost perfectly even before looking at yourself in the huge mirror. That at least was a good sign, you really didn't feel like being uncomfortable all night. However it was all topped off when you finally dared to look at yourself in the mirror, eyes going wide at the sight. It truly was… nothing you would ever have expected to wear, but it would be just perfect for your costume.

"Loki?" You called a little more insecurely than you usually would, as you were almost entirely sure that he would've wandered off by now, bored and causing some mayhem in the city.

"Still here, darling." He replied and you could hear the smirk in his voice as if he'd really known what you had just been thinking.

"Would you… Do you want to take a look?" You asked reluctantly. "I really like the way this one looks."

"As you haven't even bothered to show me the previous ones, I'd very much welcome the insight. And the distraction." He mused and you rolled your eyes with a smile, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the small changing cubicle.

"How do I look?" You asked with a half smile, biting your lip as you stood in front of him in utter awkwardness. Loki however only stared at you in an odd mixture of awe and fear, eyes quickly roaming over your small form before locking with yours in a long moment of silent observation.

"Will this work for your costume?" He finally asked instead of answering your question. You hadn't specifically expected a compliment, for Loki wasn't the kind of person to make compliments easily or without meaning them to the very core, but you had expected at least a commentary on the dress itself.

"Yeah, I think so." You replied quietly, but quickly shook the uneasy feeling off. "It'll be just fine."

"Great, I'm glad we have found something you like at last. Is there anything else you need?" He inquired, rising an eyebrow.

"Uh… yeah, one thing, but that will be quick." You mused, returning to your cubicle to change. After paying for the dress, you went on to another store to pick up some long sleeve lace gloves and then finally you returned to the car to drive home to the compound.

It was late in the afternoon already as you both made your way back towards your hallway and your rooms, yet Loki stopped you before you could disappear in your own space.

"Thank you for letting me come along. I enjoyed our venture." He said with his usual small smile and your heart did an involuntary leap.

"I did too. A whole lot." You smiled back. "But I better get ready now, for the party…"

"Will you tell me now what you're dressing up as?" He asked with a smirk.

"I'll come by your room before the party, then you'll see." You grinned back before closing your door behind yourself.

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For the next two hours you took a shower, did your hair and makeup and finally put on your new garments, styling the dress up a little to make it look a little less like a wedding dress and more like yourself. Finally you were content with your efforts, happy even. This was a freaking great costume, and you most definitely would have a great time at that party. You only wished that you'd have some more appropriate jewelry, but that really was so minor that you didn't think about it for too long.

Sighing contently, you left your room and walked the few steps to Loki's. This time you actually listened to what he'd told you and just opened the door without knocking.

"Hey Loki…" You said as you stepped into the room, finding him sitting in the window once more with the inevitable book in his lap.

Once he looked at you, his face showed the same reaction as it had in the shop when you'd tried on the dress for the first time. Awe, maybe even adoration and a slightly hint of fear.

"I just wanted to show you the outcome of today's efforts." You gave him a small smile, turning around on your spot once before looking back into his eyes. "Thank you for your help."

Loki stayed quiet as he only stared at you, not moving nor even breathing. But when you turned to leave, you heard him rise to his feet behind your back.

"Who exactly is it you're portraying?" He asked quietly as he walked towards you, making you turn around once more.

"I'm the white queen." You gave him a half smile. "Alice in wonderland."

"Ah. Of course." He smiled, coming to stand only a foot away from you.

"Since you said I was inherently good, I thought I might as well act the part." You shrugged. "And I think I make a decent enough queen."

"Y/n…" He spoke quietly, eyes searching yours yet again. "I have been thinking… And I've come to the conclusion that I was wrong."

"YOU admit to being wrong?" You rose your eyebrows at him. "Wrong about what?"

Instead of answering, you watched how he very carefully placed a hand on your shoulder, gently caressing your collarbone with a slender finger. Upon the soft green light surrounding you, you felt something cool and heavy resting against the skin of your neck. When Loki pulled his hand back, your eyes stayed fixed on his nonetheless.

"I was wrong about you, and me. And you were right all along. There is a little dark in the light, a little light in the dark. It's what draws creatures of the light towards the darkness and creatures of the dark towards the light indeed." He said calmly, motioning for you to look down on yourself. The smile on your lips widened upon seeing the intricate, yet bold black necklace that was darkly contrasting against the crisp white of your dress. To say it looked stunning would have been an understatement.

"Your light draws me in, darling." He said in a breath. "And I find myself unable to resist any longer."

"Then don't." You replied in the same quiet voice, smiling softly. "You know… The white queen is the only true match for the black king. Or have you never played chess before?"

A slow grin spread on his lips as the fear disappeared from his eyes and only the deepest adoration remained. "Will you be my queen, Y/n? For tonight and every day to come?"

"It will be my pleasure, and my privilege." You smiled brightly. "Tonight you'll need a costume though."

With a mere wave of his hand, smirking, he turned his suit into a royal asgardian gown, entirely black except for a crisp white cravat.

"There's more light in you than you let on, you know." You mused happily as you let Loki take your hand in his, leading you out of the room and down the hallway.

"And there is just enough darkness in you to make you the perfect queen indeed. My queen."

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[louloubabys1992]

Ask for writers

Tagged by @theisolatedlily​ thank u babe xoxo

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted: 

I got so into the 1D fandom that I opened a tumblr account and found loads of fics about Harry and Louis. I got hooked. I go way back as a fan. am one of those who started reading fics from tumblr accounts and livejournals. I know a lot still read from those until now, even me, until ao3 became the basis of fics. I read so many fics that i wanted to write my own as well. my first ever fic, officially, was an apocalypse/zombie au called Nothing Can Come Between You and I. I say officially because I posted a couple of fics before this one but they were edited fics from a writer who took down his/her fics for reasons I don’t wanna get into. I asked permission to post them and edit them. That’s when I started joining up as a beta as well :D

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

I typically write in Louis’ narrative but I don’t usually base it on any perceptions I have of him, even if it’s canon. most of my fics are inspired by circumstances I see around me in my day to day life or by events that one can relate to because they do happen.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

I read a lot of fics as I’ve mentioned before and each and every one of them has left an impact on me that made me the fic writer I am today. Whenever I lack inspiration, I just open my bookmarks on ao3 and read. And then, a bulb lights up and voila, inspiration hits

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

helped a lot! i wrote more during quarantine than I do now even though am somewhat working from home. but when corona was at its peak back in March, everything was on hold and I turned to writing.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence? 

silence. Am sadly not one of those people who could write in a corner in a cafe even though I wish I could do something like that.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

word vomit. not into that.

7. describe your ideal writing setup: 

after midnight, laptop on a cushion on my lap, neck pillow for my neck, my bed, and a quiet house where everyone is already sleeping and my mind is brimming, racing faster than my fingers could type hahahaah

8. favorite time of day to write?: 

after midnight. it mostly has to do with the fact that I am not available during the day but even before when I wasn’t working, i would find myself procrastinating all day or totally lacking inspiration and then come night time, and my mind comes alive hahahaha

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

Canon fics

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? 

I mean, who doesn’t, right?

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult? 

easiest is after I’ve day-dreamed the scene because when I day dream, its detailed to the tee, down to the words and the dialogue but the most difficult is when I postpone an idea I had in my head. If I don’t write it down instantly, it never turns out the same and that’s quite frustrating

12. how do you come up with original characters? (

I do insert a lot of original characters in my fics and they are sometimes inspired my real people but only in terms of appearance not by character or name. so, if am describing an original character in any of my fics, know that he exists but his character is not the same in real life hahahaha

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? f

wow, this is random. um. fav would be scars and least would be veggies

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

I don’t think it was something I was proud of at first but a lot of people who comment on my fics say that they like my pacing and the dialogues. so maybe that? I would say I think I need to work more on my originality. sometimes, i find myself drifting to a fic I’ve just read, especially if its the same trope and am like, wow, that’s not mine at all.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

definitely my first abo fic Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die. I love that au and I’ve always wanted to put my own tiny twist in it. am really proud of how it came about and am massively humbled by the comments and support it received :D

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

arial, font 18 and sometimes bigger because I don’t have good eyesight

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?:

names, because sometimes the names I choose are apprarently just not cool with microsoft word for some reason....sighs

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

yes, but its not intentional, it just happens

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?Angst because that’s just me hahahaaha. the most difficult? hmm, emotional love confessions maybe or the transition from friends to lovers. yeah.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

the passion behind it maybe?

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

best advice is to sleep on it because I do come up with scenes for my fics when I am about to sleep ahahahah. the worse one I got came from someone who obviously doesn’t know a thing about writing. he said, ‘’just don’t write it and do something else.’’ I mean, really?

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

nope, not happening.

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?: 

most of the time in order.

24. how do you handle criticism?

quite well I think. 

 25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

Go for it. Writing is not a silly hobby. if it’s really something you wanna do, even if its just for fun or to pass the time or to make new friends. go for it, There are so many fics in this fandom that until this day, are still ingrained in my mind because they were so touching and moving to me. you never know what your words could do for someone or how much your words could make a person’s day a better day 

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

the comments posted on my fics in ao3 always make me happy. I feel like its the best to find out if my work is worth someone’s time, you know? even though I do write for myself most of the time, the validation is nice sometimes :D

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend? 

wow, all of them? 

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

hmm, I mean people could ask what they want so am cool with anything. am not picky. I get asked about plot lines or what would happen next when it comes to cliffhangers and I do my best to answer them without revealing too much :D

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

I definitely made new friends through it and it’s been great :D

30. why do you write?

it’s my favourite thing in my entire life. It’s the one thing that no one in my life knows about, as in the people that I work with, my friends, even my family, none of them have ever read anything I’ve ever written and am fine with it. I feel like writing is purely for me and it’s something I’d like to keep as a part of me you know?

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

Harry smiles despite himself. Three years together, since he was nineteen, and it shouldn’t be a surprise that Louis knows him so well, can tell by the sound of his voice if he’s okay or not, nervous or not, happy or not.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

the one am writing for the harry/men fic fest

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of: 

‘’You’re being really quiet and I don’t like it,’’ Louis points out.

‘’Just a bit tired,’’

‘’Stay here then,’’ Louis pats the bed. ‘’Sleep next to me,’’

‘’Are you sure? I don’t want to mess with anything by accident or…’’

‘’Harry?’’

‘’What?’’

‘’I won’t get a wink’s worth of sleep if you’re even an inch away from me,’’ he says firmly. ‘’And I’ll go on a limb here and say neither will you.’’

‘’But…’’

‘’No buts, I’m serious.’’ Louis cups his cheek, his blue eyes big and beautiful, like an entire fucking galaxy. ‘’I missed you something terrible these past few days,’’

‘’Lou…’’

‘’Be here with me, Haz. Please?’’

Harry hums before he pushes himself forward. He cannot stop it, cannot keep himself from gravitating towards Louis, taking what he wants, what he needs to make it through the night. He cups Louis’ face and kisses him but even then it’s not enough and he skates one arm around Louis’ small shoulders and tugs him closer, careful not to jostle Louis too much and kisses him like Louis’ a mermaid and he needs his air or else he’ll drown.

It eases an ache in him he didn’t know was trying to get his attention the moment he entered the room, something deep and visceral, calming down with the way Louis’ molds his lips against his, with the shape of his mouth fitting with his own, with the way his body is trying to align with his, like a constellation, each star coming together to mean something greater than they can ever grasp, something more infinite and vast.

‘’I love you,’’ Louis whispers into his lips.

‘’I’m never letting you go,’’ Harry says before he reaches for another kiss. ‘’Love of my life, fucking best thing to ever happen to me, you know that?’’

‘’My rock,’’ Louis kisses him back. ‘’My fortress,’’ and kisses him again, ‘’my strength,’’ and again and again. ‘’I love you so much. Would be dead without you,’’

‘’Don’t say that,’’

‘’It’s true,’’ Louis gasps as Harry devours his mouth, trying to stop him from saying another word. ‘’I would’ve crawled out that room right to your feet, Haz. I would’ve…’’

‘’Shh, just me kiss, babe. Just kiss me,’’ Harry pleads.

And so they do.

4a; line from my fics that I am most proud of:

hard to choose really

5a. link the last fic you read: 

bang bang (my baby shot me down) by thepolourryexpress

6a. link the last work you published: 

Ellen's haunted house by louloubaby92

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): 

https://archiveofourown.org/users/louloubaby92/works

8a. someone that inspires you 

Louis Tomlinson

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: 

bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! 

@falsegoodnight​ @twopoppies​ @mediawhorefics​