#then kindred link is pretty much perfect for that

[strqyr]

If I may; where does your "cinder is a branwen" theory come from? What lead you to that potential conclusion?

okay, so, some context: this is during the hiatus between V5 and V6. it's middle of the night, and i'm neck deep thinking about raven's "family. only coming around when they need something." because while that fits yang, it hardly fits qrow; that was raven seeking him out, not the other way around.

the sensible part of me was having a wonderful time connecting this to summer—i.e. summer found raven because she needed help with her mission—however, the gremlin in me that revels in chaos went welllll... cinder & co showed up days later, needing something from raven.

now. this is also during the time when i'm already thinking it's a bit suspicious that words such as "dead" and "killed" were avoided when talking about summer (directly or in-directly), so to nib this chaotic thought before it had a chance to bloom, i had to check if the word "need" comes up at any point during raven's talks with qrow, yang, and cinder & co.

unfortunately for me, it does. qrow says it: "i don't know where the spring maiden is, either, but if you do, i need you to tell me." yang says it, too: "i just need you to take me to her." and finally, cinder says it not just once, but twice: "and now, all we need is the key to the vault." // "we just... need... the relic.", while watts doesn't.

so with that little thing established, the gremlin was free to roam as it pleased, creating a perspective that made certain other things look a little bit different, such as:

the parallels between cinder and yang that were at their peak during V4 and V5, including their interactions with raven

raven knowing 'fall' isn't cinder's original last name but one she chose (something something last name denotes family connection and cinder chose hers, essentially hiding hers), as well as describing emerald and mercury as "two children you've tricked into following you", implying that she has been keeping an eye on cinder even before beacon.

the feathers in cinder's brooch are described as "iridescent feathers (dark green & black)" in her concept art, pretty much what you'd expect from feathers of corvids (especially ravens and crows)

this brooch also sticks around for all of cinder's main outfits, perhaps implying it's important in some way (e.g. ruby's brooch was more than just an emblem, it belonged to summer)

raven's portals and cinder's explosions (that she creates with her semblance) look extremely similar—if not exactly same—outside the change of color; and being real here if summer's semblance also emits rose petals like ruby's does but white, i might just lose it here lmao

this is more funny to me but like. you can't go "you sound just like your mother" and then have both raven and cinder say similar things, e.g. some variation of "it's nothing personal", or even just raven being smug and referring to qrow as "little brother" only for cinder to come in moments later, smugly referring to qrow as "little bird". what is a poor soul supposed to think at that moment when i'm already preoccupied with "they never said summer is dead -> summer is alive" 😭

cinder's backstory revealing that she started from an orphanage obviously didn't help this matter, either

anyway, having said all that, i honestly don't expect this to lead into... well. anything. like if it did i would be surprised myself and i would never theorize about anything ever again, it would just be downhill from there lmao

ngl tho, it's great fuel for AUs.

[blurredout10]

This Is Not A Date

Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 5560

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi

Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:

You envied him, really.

Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.  

It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.  

But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.  

You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.   

“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.  

He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.  

Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.  

There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired. 

“How tall are you?”  

“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”  

“How big did they make you?”  

“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.

You, however, were quite interesting.   

Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.   

Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.  

Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.  

It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.   

Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.   

The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.   

Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.  

Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.   

His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.   

“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap. 

Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.   

It could only mean one thing.  

“I’ve got a date on Friday.”  

-.—.-  

It just happened.   

Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.   

As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.   

Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?  

And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.   

Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.  

Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.   

Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.   

Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.   

“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”  

“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”  

“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”  

An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.  

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”   

He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.   

“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”  

“No. Way.”  

So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.   

This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.   

It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.   

Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.   

“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”  

You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"  

“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.   

“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.   

“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”   

Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”   

For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.   

Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.   

“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”  

Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.

But he grew overwhelmed around you.

The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?  

He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.   

Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.   

“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.  

Neither of you talked about it.  

On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.  

“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”  

“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?” 

“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.  

Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.  

“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.   

“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.

He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.  

You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.   

And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.  

“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”  

“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”  

You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”  

“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”  

“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”  

“Take care, detective.”  

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.  

-.—.-  

The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.   

“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.  

“Since when were you two dating?���   

“This is not a date!”  

Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.   

It was getting ridiculous.  

Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.   

But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.  

Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.   

But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.  

You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.   

Fucking hell.  

“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.   

Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.   

With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.   

Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.  

That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.   

Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.  

Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”  

The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.   

That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?  

He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”  

Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.   

His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.

“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.   

Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?  

Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.   

Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.  

“You just need a little push.”  

Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.   

Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.  

Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.   

“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“  

The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.   

“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”  

But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”  

You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”  

You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”  

You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?   

“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.” 

A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.  

The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.   

Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.

You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.   

“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.  

He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?  

Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.   

He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.   

The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.  

The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.   

He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.   

“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”  

He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.   

He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.   

But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”  

Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”  

There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.  

Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.  

And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.   

He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.  

Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.   

“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.  

“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.  

“I must heat you.”  

“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.   

The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.   

Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.  

Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.   

What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?   

A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.  

Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.   

His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.  

Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.   

You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.  

To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting. 

“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”  

Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”  

Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.  

You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”  

“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.  

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”  

Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.  

Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.   

Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.  

Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.

“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”  

Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.   

You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.   

He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy. 

Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm. 

You looked good in blue.   

“Come for me.”  

And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.   

Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.   

You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.

It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.   

Painting.

[somereaderinblue]

So, recently I've been rereading the Batman Beyond tie-in comics & one of @theycallme-ook fics, which brought me back to a character that's criminally underrated: Julio "July" Jimenez.

(You can read the full story using this link. Sadly, it's his first & only appearance.)

I really wished the writers had utilized him more bcz good lord, he has so much potential as a character. We know Terry once mixed with the wrong crowd. However, Charlie's the only character from that part of Terry's past who made an appearance. Now, he was a pretty good antagonist (esp how he paralleled & subverted Bruce & Harvey's friendship) but at the end of it all, he's, again, the only character from that part of Terry's past that a wide audience got to see.

It would've been refreshing if July got to show up on the screen too bcz he would've been a perfect foil to Charlie in these 2 words.

Charlie -> greed July -> hope

July is one of the people Terry managed to successfully save. Whereas Charlie remained alone & went back to crime for personal gain; July was one of many who was pushed into it to support his family. However, unlike Charlie who manipulated & betrayed Terry's trust, when Terry offered July hope, he took it. He accepted Terry's hand & found himself standing on better ground with his own two feet.

If writers wanted to take it a step further, July could've been brought into the loop, having been inspired to pick up a Red Hood-esque mantle to help other ppl in his place (or remain a family guy, that works too. Man has a wife & 3 kids after all). Maybe Melanie & Jack could've bumped into him after they left the Gang, sensing kindred spirits in each other.

(Maybe he, Jack & his wife could've become a throuple bcz god knows that guy deserves love & a chance at a decent family after what his bio one put him through but that's a rare asf ship for another post on another day.)

Anyways, yeah. Batman Beyond has an amazing cast but this is one side character that has sadly remained unrecognized. I hope this post can change that.

[aryasage]

set me on fire (so i can rise)

so fpx has been doing ridiculously well and deokdam beat ruler for the first time in his career and i sat down and vomited thirteen hundred words of brainrot onto the page. i had originally intended it for tumblr so i'm posting it here but it's theoretically long enough for me to post it as an actual fic so like. if anyone wants that let me know. no previous knowledge really needed and i'm too lazy to link stuff so just. here you go have fun

title is from fpx's phoenix because come on it was too perfect of a situation

(deokdam and viper are both aphelios, ruler is xayah, life is tahm kench, missing is thresh, flandre is graves, milkyway is kindred, none of the others really matter)

canon-typical violence under the cut but nothing graphic!

also don't yell at me about the moon formatting i already know i can't fix it ok

Deokdam has never beaten Ruler. He’s faced him more times than plenty of other AD carries, but each of their twelve matches has stayed in his head for longer than he’d like to admit. Maybe it’s that he’s the first world champion Deokdam ever faced. It’s hard to forget the feeling of barely even being able to stand in his presence, let alone put up a proper fight. But as the years went on, Deokdam’s losses to the other AD carry only got more and more depressing, and…well. He guesses it’s sort of a Thing by now. 

And so, even though he and his team have been doing far better than anyone expected, even beating TES and JackeyLove, Deokdam can’t help but feel apprehensive about their upcoming match. But…they’ve come this far by trusting each other. And so, as they start their warmups before the match, Deokdam taps Life on the shoulder. “You were his support for years,” he says quietly. “What’s his weakness?”

A sly smirk spreads across Life’s face, and he responds just as quietly. “He has a habit of overstepping. He’s overconfident. And it happens more often than you might think, especially now that he doesn’t have me anymore…”

Deokdam hesitantly returns his smile. “Thanks. I think I have an idea.”

☾

As Deokdam exchanges bows with Ruler, he keeps his eyes trained on the other AD carry, watching his every move. He steps forward first, just as Life predicted, and Deokdam can’t help but smile. Something feels different this time as he takes a step back, dodging Ruler’s first attack and beginning the dance back-and-forth, and Deokdam thinks he knows why. 

☾

“I think I’ve figured it out,” Viper says, his voice of moonlight so similar to Deokdam’s and yet nothing alike as he offers his hand to Deokdam, who takes it gratefully, allowing Viper to pull Deokdam to his feet.

“What, how to beat me? Because I’m pretty sure you figured that out a while ago,” Deokdam says, trying to pass it off as a joke, but his magical voice betrays his frustration. He’d accepted Viper’s request to spar over the offseason without a second thought, eager to practise both with his friend and someone with far more skill than him, but after the third day, Deokdam is just exhausted, and Viper absolutely destroying him every round isn’t exactly making him feel much better. 

“No, not that,” Viper says, sighing. “Let’s sit down. We should get water anyway.” Well, he’s right about one thing, at least. Even though it doesn’t do anything to put out the fire in his throat, Deokdam’s definitely dehydrated by now, and just the act of drinking it is refreshing. It also means he can avoid asking what Viper did mean for a bit, but eventually, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he asks Viper just that.

“Oh, right. Well, I think I figured out your problem. Fighting,” he quickly adds, evidently seeing Deokdam’s face and how he was about to say he has far more than one problem to worry about. “You think too much about yourself.”

The words hit him harder than any dose of noctum. Great. He already feels awful for drowning himself in self-pity practically all of last spring and half of summer, but it hurts even more coming from his friend. 

Viper frowns. “Wait, no, not—” He sighs. “I don’t mean that you’re selfish, Deokdam. Just that you get too much in your own head. You’re so focused on what you should do that you’re not paying enough attention to your opponent, so when I do something unexpected, you get caught completely off-guard.”

Oh. The tension eases from Deokdam’s shoulders somewhat. That…makes a lot more sense. 

“I used to have the opposite problem, actually,” Viper continues. “I was always so focused on what the enemy was doing that I forgot my teammates were there too. I didn’t trust them, and our coordination would always be slightly…off. I never really fixed it until…well. You’re a lot better at it than I am. You’ve always had much better synergy with your teams. So you don’t need to worry about that. What I do want you to worry about is your opponent.” He stands up with a smile. “One last round?”

Deokdam can’t help but return it, standing up and following him back to the sparring ring. “Sure.”

“Okay. I want you to keep your focus on me. Your instincts are good enough by now, but you trip yourself up. Don’t think about what you’re doing at all. Just trust yourself, and try to defeat me.”

☾

Just trust yourself. Your instincts are good enough. It’s not that Deokdam would ever say Viper was wrong in saying that, per se, but for the first time, Deokdam thinks he might have been right as he fires a shot at Ruler, clipping him in the shoulder and dodging away from the chains that Missing sends flying at him. 

Smoke begins to swirl around the battlefield, meaning Flandre must have taken out Xiaolaohu in his pocket realm, and if Showmaker hadn’t complained about it being completely unfair every other week in 2022, Deokdam would be realising just how annoying it is right about now. Thanks to Kellin, though, Deokdam has plenty of practice of fighting with irritating gases everywhere, and he can just barely make out the silhouette of Missing’s body right before he throws his hook at Deokdam, and he sidesteps it on instinct. Something grazes his side—one of Ruler’s razor-sharp feathers—but Deokdam hardly feels it thanks to the fire already burning in his veins. All it does is reveal Ruler’s position, and Deokdam fires another shot in his direction.

Ruler lets out a grunt of pain, but he must still think he has the advantage, what with the smoke everywhere, because he takes another step forward, obviously confident. Too confident, because now he’s close enough that Deokdam can see his figure through the smoke. He fires a shot at Ruler’s leg, trying to knock him off balance, and Ruler predictably launches himself into the air, flinging an array of feathers at Deokdam. But with his wings flapping to keep himself in the air, he’s blowing the smoke away, and Deokdam switches weapons, launching a gravity orb at Ruler and clenching his fist, pulling him down to earth. He thinks his legs are bleeding, but it doesn’t matter, not when he switches back to his first weapon, shooting Ruler right in the chest and eliminating him, a faint red mark glowing where his Guild’s magic protected him. 

With their AD carry gone, Deokdam and his teammates are able to make quick work of what remains of JD Guild, especially thanks to Milkyway’s arrows that Deokdam swears have homing magic on them. The rest of the match is a bit of a blur, but the ceremony afterwards stays clear in his mind. Flandre is just as good-natured as Deokdam remembers, and Yagao has a quiet smile even in defeat, but when Deokdam shakes Ruler’s hand, the other AD carry murmurs in Korean, “Well fought.” 

As he walks away, Deokdam catches a glimpse of himself, and if his heart weren’t already pounding out of his chest from the adrenaline rush, it would be now from the shock. Ruler’s glow given by the Rift might be powerful, but right now, Deokdam shines with a light far more important, moonlight gleaming brightly in an aura all around him. It doesn’t go away, even as Milkyway heals his wounds, and when they leave, Deokdam chances a look up at the sky. There, peeking through the stormy clouds, Deokdam can see Her light shining down from above for the first time since he came to China, and he can’t help but smile. 

Thank you, he thinks. I’ll use your gift even better than before.

[transamorousnetwork]

The World Is So Much Better For Transgender People

Holy smokes. What I saw in December blew me away. I’m only publishing this now because I schedule posts eight weeks in advance. But it’s no less amazing. It’s a testament to the unfolding perfection of All That Is and how All That Is supports transgender people. Even when it looks like it doesn’t.

A long-time cisgender friend prompted this post. He’s a strong progressive cause ally, including supporting the transgender community. We’re kindred that way. That’s why I wasn’t surprised to get his text. But I was surprised by what he shared.

He shared a link to a video. My friend does this infrequently, but frequently enough that I don’t click on links he sends me right away. But with this one, I did. Because the thumbnail compelled me.

The video promotes a whiskey product. It’s one of the best cause marketing commercials I’ve seen. And I should know about cause marketing because in a previous incarnation, I worked in PR and Corporate Social Responsibility. Take a look:

A beautiful story beautifully told

The commercial begins with an elderly couple. While the husband sits in a chair, the wife wanders about the house on the phone. Unbeknownst to the wife, the husband has a predisposition for women’s make up. He goes into the bathroom, locks the door and tries practicing with lipstick…but his results frustrates him.

Several scenes indicate the man’s depth of interest. It’s almost as if the guy questions his interest in such a thing. Nonetheless, he ends up getting pretty good at applying makeup to his own face.

But then, during the holiday season, the extended family shows up for familial celebrations. Among the family members is 26-year-old “Alvaro”. Who we now understand as Alvaro’s grandfather, looks at his grandson and has a hunch. He invites the young person into the bathroom wherein the two have an intensely personal, intimate moment.

The two exit the bathroom and, to everyone’s astonishment, Alvaro is now “Ana”. The entire family is in tears and Ana is heartily welcomed.

The rest is amazing commercial history.

“Transgender”: Here to stay

Thirty-plus years ago when rap music wasn’t what it is today, the famous Quincy Jones produced a song called “Back on the Block”. Among samples he used in his production was a statement by Rev. Jessie Jackson. Towards the end of the song, which is a medley of various rap genre’s, Jackson is sampled saying:

“Now I would – I would contend that ah – The rappers – rap is here to stay”

Thirty years later, rap is still going strong. Jackson was right.

In the same way, we are seeing something similar with transgender people. So many successful transgender people now exist. Not only are they in entertainment, they also are in politics and business and mental health. They’re authors, speakers, teachers. They’re everywhere. 

And more are coming in to the world all the time.

It makes being a transgender person in the world much easier. More than ever, transgender people can find support in abundance. The fact that a major liquor brand is on board with transgender people is astonishing. Especially so as the ad J&B produced is in Spanish. The language of a culture that, in some places around the world still considers being gay a crime. And being trans something worse.

The world is so much better for transgender people. I only hope that more transgender people discover what my transgender clients discover. That is that the only thing keeping a transgender person these days from discovering and then living a joyful life are the stories such a person tells, which creates something different from the life they want.

The world is increasingly on the side of transgender people. Of course, it’s always been that way. But today it’s more so than ever. What a great time to be alive Transgender or Trans-attacted!

If you’re life isn’t going great and you want it to, I can help.

[therealvinelle]

Hello! Why do you think Carlisle likes Aro? (Love your meta btw!)

This blog lasted 25 days before becoming an Aro/Carlisle blog. The sanity was nice while it lasted, I suppose.

Oh well, I embrace my trash ship.

(Anon is referring to this post)

(This one is also relevant)

So, while on Aro’s end it was a case of “did the gods just give me my very own Enkidu?”, for Carlisle we must look at the circumstances. The Carlisle Cullen who walked into Volterra is not the Carlisle Cullen who works at Forks General.

Carlisle was a demon-hunting priest who brought his religion into his new life. Having no idea what he’d just become, apart from the obvious things like “I desperately want to kill people for their blood” and “I sparkle?!”, many of the things that are obvious to us would not be at all obvious to him. His only experience with other demons was the slum-dweller that killed him. It was brutal, and three other people from his parish were murdered as well. He’d been able to track the vampire down, something I can only take that to mean that the vampire used his parish for hunting grounds. He’s so horrified by what he’s become that he tries to destroy himself. This fails, and instead he finds a way out that lets him live without having to kill, and with that comes to the realization that vampires retain their souls (which is for another post).

My point being, Carlisle wakes up as a demon, and has no way of knowing how any of this works, nor of how to explain the fact that he is able to retain his soul. It’s telling that even after centuries of being a vampire he still thought something might be fundamentally different about him, as he chose to turn Edward by simulating his own transformation, even though it meant more pain for Edward. In other words, Carlisle was not guaranteed that his experience was universal. By the time we meet him in canon he’s wonderfully friendly to everybody regardless of what they eat, but I strongly doubt he got from point “Demons are monsters and I’ll rally a mob to lynch them!” to “Vampires are people who sadly eat other people.” right away.

So, you have freshly immortal Carlisle Cullen wandering around Europe with no way of knowing that other vampires are as (for lack of a better word) human as he is. How can they be, when they choose to eat people? (My personal headcanon is that he went by a Persephone theory, and figured that by resisting human blood he’d remained a man.)

It was this Carlisle who met Aro and the other Volturi. According to Edward (I unfortunately don’t have Twilight with me so I can’t quote his exact words), they were the ones who showed him that vampires can in fact be sophisticated.

Sophisticated. Not just as in Aro, Marcus, and Caius eat their virgins with some fava beans and a nice chianti, but as in they’re civilized and intelligent beings. Carlisle was no longer a one lone freak who somehow retained his soul while everyone else went full Buffy vampire, or any other such theory. I can’t even imagine the impact that must have had on a young Carlisle who would have been even lonelier than the Carlisle who found Edward in Chicago. That Carlisle at least had friends, this younger version had absolutely nobody.

Aro changed that.

More than being sophisticated, Aro turned out to be a kindred spirit, an absolutely brilliant mind and a generous host. Carlisle chose to live with him for decades, leaving only because of their dietary differences. And even if people disagree with me with all of the above, I don’t think anyone can argue that this one isn’t huge.

Of all the people Carlisle knows in canon, Aro is the only one he stayed with just for Aro’s own sake. Carlisle loves the Cullens dearly, but the cornerstone holding them together is their shared diet, and the fact that Carlisle turned four of them, the other two joined. He did not happen upon them and then like them so much that he decided to move in. As for his other friends, he cares for them all, but he didn’t share decades of his life with them.

Regardless of how we’re interpreting their relationship (as in, platonic, UST, or raging homosexual affair), I don’t think anyone can dispute that Carlisle and Aro are each other’s best friends.

But beyond proving that vampires aren’t all sewer-dwelling, priest-eating rascals, what exactly made Aro so special?

I’ll just list his qualities in no particular order.

Sophistication This guy is a lover of the arts and of knowledge. His gallery and library must have been the most extensive and diverse in the world, and it probably still is. I can’t even begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge and treasures that Aro must have collected over the years. If the Holy Grail exists within the world of Twilight, Aro has it. Where I’m headed with this, is that not only would Aro’s collection be the coolest thing ever to Carlisle, but also that this was a time when the number of books and an art collection was a sign of high class, of intellectualism, of all things fine and noble that was considered virtuous. Aro acts very much like wealthy European nobility, he even lives in Italy, the cultural epicenter of the Western world of old. He physically could not have been more impressive to Carlisle.

Kind of a continuation of the previous point: Aro is from Ancient Greece (well, he’s Myceanaean, but same difference to a “You predate Homer?!” starstruck Carlisle). Ancient Greece was the ultimate, perfect, civilization to Europe, and Carlisle got to Volterra just ahead of the Enlightenment. This alone would have made him so unbelievably cool to Carlisle.

Nerd I think this one speaks for itself. Carlisle is an unbelievable nerd, an inquisitive mind who’ll study anything and everything, and in Aro he found someone who also has an inquisitive mind and will study anything and everything. They’re both very intelligent. Carlisle went from being that sad whale that sings on a frequency no other whales can hear, to having someone who just got it.

His gift So you’re all gonna have to stay with me on this one. Aro’s gift is one most people would find very invasive, which as I touched upon in one of the posts linked above must be very isolating. And yet we know from canon that Carlisle has no problem at all with Edward reading his mind all the time, and more, if Aro reading his mind was a problem then Aro and Marcus would both have known, and I doubt their friendship would have worked out. So, I think that Carlisle not only didn’t mind having his every thought read, but that this was an actively good thing. Because what is less lonely than the company of one who knows you as intimately as you know yourself? To be friends with Aro is to be truly understood, known more deeply than anyone else can ever know you. And to someone who seeks companionship as much as Carlisle does, I imagine this is an extremely attractive feature.

Offer of friendship Carlisle would have been hopelessly lonely when he met Aro. And as no one else is mentioned as being close to him, Jane hadn’t even met him which I find pretty telling of how he interacted (or didn’t interact) with the Guard, and he wouldn’t yet have any of his other friends that he later made, he only had Aro.

He enforcers a law that keeps the known world from descending into chaos Human civilization wouldn’t last a day without the Volturi. There would be nothing stopping vampires from taking out entire villages in one go, immortal children would be everywhere, and the newborn armies would spread like wildfire. In the world of Twilight, the Volturi are a necessary evil. And Aro is their leader. The fact that he not only keeps the world together, an ungrateful task with no end in sight, but had the idea to create a law in the first place would make him all the more amazing to Carlisle.

And I’m sure there’s more that is currently slipping my mind.

Just, Aro is on every level the most impressive, awe-inspiring, and dare I say dazzling, that anyone can be to Carlisle. And he came into Carlisle’s life at the best possible moment. If he’d agreed to do the animal diet, Carlisle would have stayed. If he wanted to seduce Carlisle, I think he’d succeed. I also think that their time together was far more formative for the person Carlisle became than anyone gives Aro credit for.

(And if Carlisle had never found anyone who’d share the diet, he would eventually have returned. I imagine Aro thought the same, but that’s for another post.)

Oh, and last bit - in Breaking Dawn we get this beautiful moment where Carlisle learns that Aro robbed the British royal family, and he just goes, “yup, that’s my guy”. Even after Eclipse, he remains fond of Aro. I mean, there’s also the fact that he’s been lugging around this giant painting for centuries, even at a time when he didn’t have a house and I can only speculate as to where he was keeping it.

Of course, over the course of Eclipse and Breaking Dawn everything goes to hell, but that’s for another post.

TL;DR, Carlisle went from a priest’s son to living with an evil vampire overlord for decades because he’s just that great, in the present he keeps a giant painting of him in his office. I feel it’s safe to assume he likes the man.

(Edited on the 13th of April to fix some phrasing and add a link)

[constablewrites]

In Which I Give Way Too Much Thought to the Sex Lives of Animated Characters

I’ve fallen off the wagon on my weekly posts here, because ::gestures vaguely at 2020:: It isn’t that I haven’t had observations to make, more that I lacked the particular motivation to actually write them up. But there’s one thing that can always drive me to the keyboard: getting nice and annoyed!

Star Wars Rebels is a deeply irritating show, mainly because when it is good, it is truly excellent, but there’s a lot of meh to wade through to reach those moments. It seems to be aimed at a younger audience than Clone Wars, and lacks that show’s advantages of both the well-established characters from the films and its urgent newsreel energy (because who needs Act I when Tom Kane can just yell exposition at you). There are a lot of interesting ideas and setups in Rebels that just never get properly explored, but the one I found most disappointing was the relationship between Kanan and Hera.

(Major spoilers after the cut. Go watch the show, it’s not terribly long and, as I said, the good stuff is really good.)

I was surprised by how much Kanan’s character grabbed me. Maybe it’s because I find the concept--someone who knows he’s unfit to be a mentor but has no choice but to fake his way through--to be highly relatable as an elder millennial, or maybe it’s just that I glom onto protector characters. He has great chemistry with Hera, and I am a shipper of the highest order. So when the final season started focusing on their romance, it should have been catnip for me.

Reader, it was not.

Oh, the interrupted kiss when they’re trying to get out of the city on Lothal is solid ship-tease stuff, to be sure. But then you get to 4x7 “Kindred” (not gonna link a video because I couldn’t find a good one and the damn things always get taken down later anyway). Kanan asks if she’s ever thought about their future together, Hera demurs and says that he knows how she feels. He isn’t so sure, so after a bit of cockblocking from the A-plot, she kisses him for the first time (that we see). The exchange is brief and doesn’t quite fit the established dynamic, but it’s fine.

The problem is, immediately after that kiss, she gets on a ship and leaves for rebel command. The next time Kanan sees her is the rescue mission that kills him. So for the [Babies Ever After] epilogue to make sense, one of these things must be true:

Force ghosts can fuck

They find time during the harrowing escape to sneak away and hook up

Hera is already pregnant when she leaves Lothal

Not only do the first two seem unlikely, but the third point works with most of the rest of the series. A show with such a young audience was probably never going to state outright that two characters are doing it, so they just have to imply it in ways that older viewers will pick up on: Hera calls Kanan “dear” in the very first episode. They talk to each other about things they don’t talk about with the rest of the crew. And Kanan being squirrelly on Ryloth? That isn’t a guy meeting the father of his best friend or even his crush, that is [recognizably] a guy meeting the father of the girl he’s boinking.

I don’t have a problem with a kids’ show not getting into detail about the love lives of its parental figures, and I honestly think more media should feature healthy, established couples. But I feel like the writers realized that they couldn’t show the impact Kanan’s death has on Hera if their relationship is entirely off-screen. So they did finally make it clear that this is a romance--but they did it in a way that makes it seem like the romance started right there at the end, since Hera’s unhappy “We’ve talked about this before” gives the impression that she’s turned him down in the past. And that just doesn’t add up. (Not to mention the sudden ramp-up makes it pretty obvious that one of them is gonna die.)

But this isn’t Fandom Bitching Wednesdays. Was there a way to do it differently?

Potential fix: Cut the kid. Probably the most straightforward, since that’s what creates the out-and-out plot hole Issues: Also the most depressing option. Kanan’s son is the thing that gives him a happy(ish) ending, allowing a part of him to live on beyond just the memories of his friends. Plus, it makes their interactions in the early seasons kinda confusing if they were never supposed to be in a relationship at all.

Potential fix: They were in a relationship but were very private about it and avoided any PDA around the rest of the crew. Conversation plays out more or less the same, but Hera’s reluctance to talk is because she’s aware that the others are watching, and the kiss is significant because she’s choosing not to hide anymore. Issues: My vote for most satisfying option, but would still benefit from a scene or two earlier in the series setting it up. Also means that if you wanted to keep the bit at the fuel depot where Hera tells Kanan she loves him as a big climactic moment, you would definitely need to establish why she’s never said it before. (Especially because she calls him “love” during the evacuation of Chopper Base.) There are plenty of options for this that would fit in with her character--perhaps something about her own parents, or how they’re in a war, or how she just thinks it’s less complicated if no one knows--but you would have to pick one and show it.

Potential fix: They were in a relationship but it wasn’t “serious,” or perhaps was even a strictly friends-with-benefits arrangement. So when Kanan is asking about their future, it’s not a new thing but an escalation, and builds more naturally toward Hera saying she loves him. Issues: This is how I tried to headcanon it initially, because it’s the only thing that makes any of it make sense as-is. And it’s easy to see how Kanan would have initially been happy with that setup (more on that in a second), but less so for Hera, with her pet names and talk of how they’re a family. As above, her reason for putting up that barrier, and for keeping it up this long, would need to be clearly established.

Potential fix: FWB but reverse this scene: Hera is the one who wants more and Kanan is resisting. I mean, come on guys, the “Jedi are forbidden to form attachments” thing was right there. It’s a stupid rule, but you have the opportunity for Kanan to acknowledge it as a stupid rule and reject it. Kanan is also exactly the kind of guy who would try to ride out the loophole of “It’s okay that I’m in love with her if I never say it or call her my girlfriend.” Variant: they were in a typical relationship but Kanan pulled back when he trained with Bendu to control his emotions, so what Hera wants isn’t something new, but rather what they had before. Issues: The dynamic of “girl wants romance, boy can’t express emotions” is pretty played out. The fact that Kanan broaches the topic by asking what would end her involvement with the Rebellion further adds an interesting angle that builds on stuff that’s been brought up before--war is all she’s ever known so she doesn’t shy from it, while he feels like he’s already survived one war and wants to be done with it--and you lose that if she’s the one who raises the question. It also follows that he would then be the one to say “I love you” at the fuel depot, which somewhat dampens the power of his sacrifice to say that for him.

Perhaps the real lesson here is that sometimes there aren’t any perfect solutions to story problems, just a series of trade-offs. This is especially true in a serialized medium, where part of the story might already be out there by the time you realize you would need to make changes to it to properly set up where you want to take it. If you missed the chance to show us a very important conversation, the best you can do might just be to reference that it happened and hope (in vain) that your audience will just roll with it instead of being nitpicky bastards.

And maybe Force ghosts just fuck, I dunno.

[themculibrary]

Ant-Man/Scott Lang-Centric Masterlist

Links Last Checked: February 5th, 2024

part two

Against All Odds (ao3) - ElisaPhoenix scott/peter M, 40k

Summary: It's hard to make friends when you're as invisible as Scott is.

It's even harder to find love.

Beckoning from Beyond the Mirror (ao3) - ParanoidInPink G, 29k

Summary: It's Halloween night. Cassie Lang is getting ready for the evening when she's met with an apparition and tragedy strikes. She is the first of many to fall into a fatal, comatose-like state that doctors can't explain. Scott is desperate and turns to the only man he knows who could possibly cure the supernatural scourge. Little did he know of the adversary he'd soon have to face.

Choreography (ao3) - manic_intent scott/jimmy E, 9k

Summary: The alpha stood carefully by the biggest window in Scott’s house, keeping his hands to himself. Fate had just decided to fuck with Scott in a major way and the only comfort Scott could take from the mess was that Agent Jimmy Woo looked as freaked out as Scott was. Of course the first perfectly compatible alpha Scott had ever met in nearly five decades of his life on earth would be his goddamned case officer.

Every Inch, Every Scar (ao3) - ChangeTheCircumstances maggie/jim M, 52k

Summary: Trying to provide for is daughter, Scott Lang attempts to look for alternative forms of employment but with no college degree, a criminal record, and his longest running job being that of a prostitute, he's not getting anywhere. However, by pure chance, a new client soon changes his life and chances of being the father Cassie deserves.

Complications of course arise as Scott soon learns what his new connections mean for him and even those he loves.

Flighty (ao3) - telm_393 scott/sam T, 5k

Summary: In which Scott Lang spills his guts to Sam Wilson at who cares o' clock in the morning, and it all goes uphill from there.

Feat. Wakandan infomercials, brooding worthy of any A-list superhero, an uncomfortably sincere compliment, and a requited crush.

Good Summer (ao3) - gnimmish scott/hope T, 3k

Summary: Hope isn't falling in love with Scott. (Really. She isn't. Stop looking at her like that). But they have a good summer, anyway.

[Set between Ant-Man and the events of Civil War, a look into Hope and Scott's relationship before Scott messed it up].

Home (a place where you belong) (ao3) - casualwonderlust scott/hope T, 10k

Summary: After the events of Ant-Man and the Wasp, starts off right at that cute scene between the Langs and Hope. Before that horrible mid-credits scene.

Hope and Scott rebuild. They become partners; they become family. This is their story.

I'm Headed for a Land That's Far Away (ao3) - telm_393 scott/sam M, 44k

Summary: As a fugitive in Wakanda, Scott makes a place for himself as moral support, doing everything possible to keep the fact that he’s pretty much dead inside from the others. See, he’s been living with his mental issues for years, and he’s been pretending to be just fine for even longer, so if he lets himself get lost in everyone else’s commotion, he’ll be okay.

…Except no one can pretend to be okay forever, and Scott is rudely thrust into the spotlight by virtue of having a full-on mental breakdown and trying to kill himself while living in close quarters with five other people. It doesn’t work, so Scott decides to save his own life and face his past, present, and future head-on. Also, somewhere in all of this, Scott and Sam fall in love, because wars end, but life goes on.

Kindred Souls (ao3) - ElisaPhoenix scott/peter M, 7k

Summary: Scott is tired of not having a soulmate. Quill doesn't even know what that is. Of course, the universe has decided this is a perfect match.

Losing Time (ao3) - independentwriter137 scott/hope G, 

Summary: If Scott Lang is confused most of the time, it's only because absolutely none of what's happening makes any sense. He kinda wants to point out that this time travelling plan sounds like it’s full of paradoxes and loops and all those things you’re supposed to avoid when you time travel (if this were a movie like Back to the Future, he’d even go so far as to say that the plan’s full of plot holes), but he keeps his mouth shut. What does he know anyway?

Monster (ao3) - hypochondriacandatrashmouth G, 12k

Summary: After getting bitten by a toxic bug during a fight with an insane villain, Scott Lang has slowly started changing. He is more hostile and is slowly starting to not recognize his friends and team.

At first, they all just thought it was side effects of the Quantum Energy he has been exposed to more often. But they realize that was not it only when he hurts one of his beloved friends.

Railroad (ao3) - sarahmonious G, 4k

Summary: Post Infinity War part 1 and Ant-Man and the Wasp.

Determined to escape the quantum realm, Scott tries anything he can think of to return home. In his most desperate hour, something bizarre happens, and not long after, he's pulled from the quantum realm by Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.

spectral recreation (ao3) - Star_less scott/hope T, 10k

Summary: No. He was done. He was done with all of this bullshit. It was… it was only meant to be a comfort thing while he was anxious. But now, the voices had gone and Janet had been yanked out of the Realm, so he had no need for any of this... this... stuff.

While on house arrest for his crimes, Scott starts hearing voices in his dreams... or specifically *a* voice, a voice he doesn't quite know - a voice from another realm entirely. It freaks him out, and in a desperate search for a solution, he's pushed toward an alternative cure. Enter Hank Pym and Hope Van Dyne, who throw the whole thing into jeopardy.

He's programmed to replicate your daily routine. Nine hours in bed, five hours in front of the TV, two hours in the bathroom, whatever that's about.

Strange, Impossible Things (ao3) - Dorasolo scott/hope T, 8k

Summary: A small blossom of hope unfurls in his chest as Barton’s cell phone starts ringing. Scott is heartened to think that Hope is alive somewhere in San Francisco. Maybe she’s looking for him right now the way he’s been looking for her.

Endgame POV from the world’s greatest grandma.

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

Kindred Spirit (Taehyung X You) (ONESHOT)

A/N: The full version of the Taehyung fanfic, but I changed it a little from the preview I posted. Hope its okay 😘 also, im not sure whats an "er of their marriage" means exactly? But i take it their life after marriage? Ill make an epilogue of that soon! 😘

"Ive been an idol for years Y/N and you have never once come to see me perform? Dont you know people would die for all the free passes and tickets I left for you?!" Her bestfriend grumbles, hands crossed over his chest, his pout over an inch long.

Y/N laughs.

"Thats why I said you should give it to someone else thats actually have time to go watch you,"

"But you are my best friend. BESTFRIEND Y/N. How is is possible you never once saw me perform? And you dont even know any of my bandmates? How is that possible??" Yoongi keeps on grumbling in disbelief.

"Well.. Min Yoongi. I can give you an answer. Because I'm busy with real life okay. You know my appa wants me to take over soon. You know I dont do it on purpose right?" Y/N pouts, hoping if shes cute enough, or looks guilty enough Yoongi would actually forgive her.

"Nope. Your puppy face wont cut it this time,"

Damn.

"You are coming. And if I dont see you cheering your ass off tomorrow night, front row, our friendship is over. Over I say!"

And thats is why Y/N is running and pushing through the excited crowd of boys and girls in the stadium, trying to find her section. She made it! She almost didnt, but almost didnt matter. Shes here now. All dressed in her work clothes, with what is supposed to be called an Army Bomb in her hand,  something that her secretary shoved in her bag earlier, saying its a must have for an Army. She dont even know what an Army is!

As the show starts, Y/N jumps to the music, smiling proudly everytime Yoongi make an appearance. She has heard him rapped before, but she never seen him this charismatic. Its as if the man on stage is not even the dorky Yoongi she has known for years. And his band members... wow. All so talented, all so good looking.

As the concert ended, Y/N makes her way backstage, flashing the pass Yoongi gave her and make her way through series of dressing room, trying to find the one where the boys are in.

"Must be this one," she followed the door that has the most sound and lights to find the boys chatting, congratulating each other. "Uh, Yoongi?" Y/N calls out softly, feeling awkward. Is she even supposed to be here?

"Oh you are here. God, cant believe you actually made it!" Yoongi rushed over and gave her a tight hug. "Wait, I'll introduce you to the others, but I need to change my pants first. Wait here, dont move!" Before she could say anything, Yoongi has already ran off.

"Uh.. okay. Ill stay here I guess," she moved herself timidly to a corner and stands awkwardly, hoping no one would notice her. But wishes dont always come true.

"Hey, uh..." a guy, a very handsome guy, who Y/N recognizes as one of Yoongi's band members, but cant be sure who, approached her.

"Uh.. yes? A-am I not supposed to be here? Im sorry. Im just waiting for Y-"

"Oh, no. I just want to ask you. Wheres the bathroom?"

"Huh?" Y/N looks at the guy curiously. Is he for real? He had a three day back to back concert here and today is the third day. And he doesnt know where the bathroom is? And he is asking... her? Y/N laughs before answering. So weird.

"Uh.. I-"

Smack.

"You know very well where the bathroom is you idiot. What are you talking about?" Yoongi who just came back smacked the guy's head.

"Ouchhh, hyunggg," he pouted, rubbing his head.

"Serves you right. Thats the worse and most cringy pick up line ever!"

"Hyunggggg, shut upppp," the guy eyed Y/N shyly and glares at his hyung and turn his attention back on her. "S-sorry. I just wanted to talk to you but I dont want to scare you off," he grins sheepishly.

"Oh, its okay. Im not a stalker. I'm here because Yoongs invited me. I'm Y/N," she hands out her hand for a handshake. "And no, I dont know where the bathroom is," she giggles.

Yoongi rolls his eye and smacks his forehead at the lame attempt of flirting the younger man is doing.

"Hi Y/N. I'm Taehyung," he grips her hand and shakes it. "Kim Taehyung. And I'm the guy you will be having coffee with tonight," he grins.

/////

"Okay, so do you have a boyfriend?"

"No appa, I dont," Y/N sighs, frustrated.

"Then uh.... do you not like men? I mean, Im okay with that sweetheart, as long as you are happy..."

Y/N smile a little. Her appa is the most adorable man ever existed.

"Appa, no!" She giggles.

"Okay, okay. Im just asking. You know I will support you always princess," her appa smile and she can see a small sigh of relieve. "Then what is it sweetheart? Why are you so against this marriage with Hyun Dae?"

"Well, for one, I think arranged marriage is so old school appa," she pouts. "We are not living in the 60s or 20s or whatever year you and eomma are from,"

"How old do you think we are? The 20s?!" Her appa laughs. "Arranged marriage is not so bad you know,"

"Its not bad at all. I actually found the love of my life," her eomma gets up from the couch and link arms with her husband. "Although he is quite annoying at first," she laughs. Y/N's appa leans and kiss the top of her mothers head.

"Its the best decision ever," he smiles.

Y/N roll her eyes. It is well known between their family, friends and community that her parents are as in love as ever. They were from two wealthy family, arranged to be married, and lucky for them, they were each other soulmates.

"Appa, eomma, just because you two are lucky doesnt mean everyone is,"

"But sweetheart, Hyun Dae is everything a man can be. Hes very kind, smart, hes taking over his appa's business, he loves animals, arts, kids. Everything that you like. And plus, you two are quite close too. Why are you so against it?"

Y/N sighs.

"I dont know. Maybe a little part of me wants that traditional love story you know? To fall madly in love with someone and then get married?" She sighs and lays her head on her elbow. Her parents look at each other before her eomma approached her slowly, stroking her hair slowly.

"Sweetheart... are you in love with someone?"

"Well..." Y/N scratched her neck, avoiding their intrusive eyes. Her lips immediately curl into a small smile as an image immediately pops inside her head. Boxy smile, deep voice, always happy, positive outlook on everything. The one guy who made her deeply fall in love.

"Oh my dear, who is it? Why didnt you tell us?" Her eomma smile widely, clapping her hand in excitement.

"Well.. its uh.. because I dont know if he feels the same way..."

"Have you told him yet? Whoever this lucky person is?" Her appa take a step closer to her, smiling. His princess' happiness is everything to him.

"N-no. Not yet. I dont know. Should I?"

"You should sweetheart. Or how else would he know? And he most definitely feels the same way,"

"Do you think so appa?"

"I know so," he smiles. "Who in the world wouldnt fall in love with you sweetheart?"

Y/N smiles. Her parents are the best.

"Then I'll tell him. I'll tell him tomorrow,"

/////

"I like you Taehyung,"

A few moments past without either one saying anything. The air that pricks her skins feels colder. But nothing is colder that Taehyung's stare that is emotionless in front of her right now.

"Uh.. what? I heard you wrong I think," he laughs awkwardly.

"I... like you Taehyung,"

"Well, I like you too. Of course. You are one of my closest friends," Taehyung smiles. Y/N feels her heart suffocating but still puts on a brave face. Maybe he dont understand what she meant. Taehyung can be oblivious sometimes.

"I like you Taehyung," Y/N says it much clearer this time. "I.. love you. I love you Kim Taehyung. Like for real,"

"Listen..," he sighs after a few moment of silence. "I'm really flattered that you uh.. have feelings for me. And I know we have developed some degree of friendship, but... you thats what you are... just a friend," he looks at her with his deep gaze. "Yoongi's hyung friend to be exact,"

"Yoongi's friend?" Y/N looks at him, eyes filled with confusion. "After all this time. Is that all I am to you Tae? Your hyung's friend?"

"You know what I mean Y/N. You know how we met-"

"Yeah, I know how we met Tae.. but I though after all these time and moments we had..."

"That I would think of you as more? That I would fall in love with you?" Taehyung sighs. "I'm sorry if you felt like I lead you on. Thats just me. I'm just friendly. Im this way with everyone. But come on Y/N. Look at the facts. How can I be with you? I'm a worldstar, and you are well... you,"

Y/N felt like Taehyung just stabbed hee heart a million times. What does he mean that shes just.. her? Whats so wrong about being her?

"I enjoy our friendship, our interaction Y/N, but no more than that. And I am sorry to say that I am in a relationship. We havent gone public yet, but we are planning to, by this week,"

"I-in a relationship? With who Tae? A-and you didnt even bother to tell me? After all the time we spent together?" Y/N feels like screaming, but she knows she has no right to do so. All she can do is hold in her tears that can easily burst at any time.

"I think you know her," he smiles. Oblivious to the pain that Y/N is feeling.  "Oraia. The new idol,"

"Oraia?" Oh Y/N knows the girl perfectly well. Pretty, fashionable, great at singing, dancing. Any guy would kill to have her. Including Taehyung it seems.

"I-I have to know Tae. W-why her? H-how?" Y/N managed to choked out her question.

"Oraia is the perfect girl for me," Taehyung smile at the thoughts of her, proving how in love he is, making Y/N's heart breaks even more. "An idol, beautiful, talented, shes basically the female version of me. So I'm sorry, but you..." Taehyung stops, trying to find the right word to describe what hes saying. "You and me Y/N... we are just worlds apart,"

"You are not a worldstar when I met you. You are not that like this when I met you," Y/N said softly, holding in tears. "We are not that much different from each other Tae,"

Taehyung gave a sad smile, no, a pity smile, before standing up, ready to leave.

"You can think whatever you want Y/N. But if you ever think we can be together..." he sighs and looks at her and gave her another pity smile. "If only things were different. In another world, maybe we would have been together.Goodbye Y/N,"

/////

Y/N closes her eyes, tears rolling down both her cheeks, already mixed together with the pouring rain as she walks home. Maybe the rain will wash away her feelings for Taehyung. Her stupid feelings for Taehyung. Different world? Taehyung's world is what she wanted to avoid her whole life. Glitz, glamour, fame, riches... Y/N cries out as loud as her heart wanted, thankful no one can hear her in the heavy rain. Shes just not enough for him. Thats the real reason. And she will never be for Kim Taehyung.

Days passed and Y/N has been locked up in her room ever since that disasterous day. Her parents have given up trying to find out what happen and finally left her alone.

And this week is finally the week Y/N dread the most. All the entertainment news, magazines, gossip websites are buzzing with the announcement that has just been made all week.

Y/N looks at the glossy pictures of the scattered tabloids in front of her again. The intimate pictures getting blurry as her eyes gets wetter. Taehyung's voice replayed in her brain like a broken record.

"That I would think of you as more? That I would fall in love with you?" Taehyung sighs. "I'm sorry if you felt like I lead you on. Thats just me. I'm just friendly. Im this way with everyone. But come on Y/N. Look at the facts. How can I be with you? I'm a worldstar, and you are well... you,"

"An idol, beautiful, talented, shes basically the female version of me. So I'm sorry, but you..." Taehyung stops, trying to find the right word to describe what hes saying. "You and me Y/N... we are just worlds apart,"

With a deep breath, she crumples the pages that reflects the beautiful relationship that is Taehyung and Oraia, wipe her eyes and walked downstairs to where her parents are drinking tea, enjoying their evening in their luxurious lounge.

"Oh Y/N. You are finally out. How are you feeling honey? Want to join us sweetheart?" Her mother looked up from the magazine shes reading and smile, her father the same, offering her a seat besides them.

"N-no. Thanks though. And I feel better," she gave a small smile. "Eomma, appa, I have something to tell you guys," she said, heart beating fast.

"What is it honey?"

"Appa, eomma, I have thought it through. I agree to your proposal. I agree with the arranged marriage to Hyun Dae,"

Her parents looks at each other, surprised.

"Sweetheart, are you sure? You dont have to rush into this. You should take your time and think i-"

"No appa. I am sure this time," she gave a smile, hoping it would convince them. "I want to marry Hyun Dae. I think he and I will make a very happy marriage,"

"W-well.." her eomma looks unsure. "Okay.. then,"

"If you are sure sweetheart. Then we will start setting it up," her appa stood up and hugs her. "Just know that we both love you so much and want nothing but your happiness,"

Y/N nods slowly, tears brimming in her eyes, softly she whispers,

"Me too appa, me too..,"

/////

Tupp. Tupp.

Y/N looks over the sliding door that opens up to her huge balcony. What is that sound? Panicking, she grab the first thing she can reach, a hairbrush, and walk slowly to the glass sliding door.

Tupp. Tupp.

The sound continue. Taking a deep breath she bravely slides open the door.

"Ouchhh," she rubs her head. "What the hell?" She looks around to find what hit her. "A pebble?"

"Oh no, did I hit you?" A voice called out. Y/N looks over the balcony.

"Hyun Dae? What are you doing here? Its 2am!"

"I, uh.. I want to talk to you," he grins.

"Theres this thing call a telephone you know? Or a front door? Havent use one of those?" She glares and Hyun Dae laughs.

"Sorry. I just thought this Romeo and Juliet shit is romantic you know?" He laughs and Y/N rolls her eyes. "Can you come down? Lets take a walk in your garden,"

"Come down from here? Like Rapunzel?!"

Hyun Dae laughs. "Oh my god, how are you so adorable? Of course not! Use the front door silly,"

Y/N giggles. "Okay. Be right there,"

A few minutes later, they were strolling in Y/N's family flower garden, inhaling the fresh night air.

"So? What is it you want to talk about that cant wait until daylight?"

"Well," Hyun Dae stop walking and pull her hand, sitting her down on the stone bench. "I just want to do it properly and formally," he smiles and kneels down in front of her, holding her hand.

Y/N looks at him, both nervous and confused.

"Y/N, you dont know how truly happy, grateful, excited, speechless, ecstatic I am that you agreed to marry me. I have been in love with you since forever," he smiles and blush slightly. "And I know this is just an arranged marriage to you, and you dont love me. But right here, right now, I promise you, that I will make you the happiest girl alive, that I will love you despite everything and anything, and everything you wish for princess, is my command,"

Y/N feels her heart beats faster.

"L/N Y/N, will you marry me and make me the luckiest man ever lived?"

Without a doubt, without a single second of hesitation, she nodded.

"Yes, yes, definitely yes,"

/////

"You look distracted. Whats wrong?" Yoongi glance at Taehyung whos just staring blankly at his mirror as they are changing and cleaning up their makeup.

"Uh... nothing hyung," Taehyung quickly pretends to clean up his things.

"Its not nothing. You have been distracted for a few weeks now. I didnt want to say anything because I thought you would snap out of it but its just getting worse,"

"Its really nothing hyung!" Taehyung snaps and plop down on his chair, sighing. Yoongi shrugs and decide to give him some space. "Err.. hyung?"

"Yeah?"

"Why..uh... why doesnt Y/N come over to our shows anymore?" Taehyung finally open up his mouth to ask. Since that first time they met, she has always been around, cheering for them, right at the front row. But after her confession, he didnt see her anymore. Yeah, he felt bad about what he said and he tried calling, texting, video calling.. but nothing. Shes totally ignoring him. He wanted to meet her at her house, or her work place, until he realized he didnt know where to go. In fact, he didnt know anything about her. All the time they hung out, he only always talk about him. His life, his problems. Him. As if its that interesting. He sighs again.

Yoongi side eyed him.

"Is that what disturbing you? Y/N?"

"N-no. Im just curious,"

"Oh, okay then. Then the answer is, I dont want to tell you," Yoongi picks up his stuff and walk off.

Of course. Of course his hyung knows. Yoongi and Y/N are best friends afterall. Taehyung sighs. Well, maybe he deserves this. But still... he doesnt want to admit it to anybody, even himself, but deep down, he miss her. Really miss her.

/////

"Okay guys, lets go. We need to get ready," Namjoom clap his hands as a way to make his members make their way to the dressing room. Its awards season finally, and they need to get ready for their stage. Taehyung makes his way with his hyung to the back of the stage, wishing for all this to be over soon. He really wants to just rest his head.

As he was putting on the final touches he turns to the door and saw Y/N standing there, all dressed in a beautiful gown, fit for an award show. His first thought is, wow, and the second is that his eyes are playing tricks on him. But as Y/N makes her way inside and hugs Yoongi, he knows this is  reality. Taehyung smiles. He cant help it. Did Yoongi told her about what he said a few days back and now shes here to see him?

Taehyung walks over the moment he gets the chance to get her alone.

"Hey," Taehyung smiles.

"Um.. hey," Y/N smiles awkwardly.

"So, why are you here? You miss me or something? Or are you stalking me?" He laughs.

"No, I'm actually h-"

"Hey baby, there you are. The crew said you went in first," A handsome guy, and obviously a chaebol makes his way to them, giving Y/N a kiss on the cheek and hugging her waist.

"Hi babe," she smiles. "Yeah, I went in to see Yoongi. Its time you meet my mysterious bestie,"

Taehyung was silenced, eyeing the man up and down. Baby? Cheek kissing? Waist hugging? Who is this guy?

"Oh is this Yoongi?" He smiles and held out a hand. Taehyung took it reluctantly.

"Oh no no. This is Kim Taehyung. Hes uh... Yoongi's band member,"

Yoongi's band member? Thats all he is??

"Oh okay. Hi, I'm Hyun Dae," he smiles and shakes Taehyung's hand before hugging Y/N's waist again. Taehyung felt like pulling off his arm, and he dont know why he felt that way.

"Lets go meet Yoongi," Y/N smiles and bows to him and move over to Yoongi, leaving Taehyung still staring at them. Once Yoongi and Hyun Dae are caught up in a conversation, Taehyung immediatly grab Y/N by the elbow and drag her to the side.

"Ouchh. What the hell Tae?!"

"Are you seriously this petty?" Taehyung scoffs.

"Petty?? What are you even talking about?"

"Fine, I rejected you. So now you are bringing this... this... stuck up someone here for what? To show me that you have moved on? To make me jealous?" Taehyung scoffs again. "As if,"

"What?!" Y/N looks at him in disbelief. "God Taehyung, you are so full of yourself! Hes not stuck up! And I'm not here for you!"

"Yeah right," Taehyung smile sarcastically. "So, hyung told you I asked and the next show you brought a man over? Please Y/N, have some pride,"

"What are you even talking about? Yoongs never talked about you. At all! Im here becaus-"

"Oh Taehyung, you have already met," his manager interrupted the conversation and bows to Y/N as Hyun Dae join her side. "Okay guys, gather round. I think all of you must already know about The Empire. As you know, their company owns and organized all show events in Korea and is one of the biggest in the music industry, among others. The president cant make it, so his daughter is here instead. And she and her fiancee just wants to meet all the artists her tonight to express their gratitude,"

Y/N and Hyun Dae bows and smiles to everyone as Taehyung stands frozen in place, the only thing he can hear is 'fiance'. Y/N is... engaged?

And... shes an heir?

"You and me Y/N... we are just worlds apart,"

Yeah, they are worlds apart. He was right. But the truth is, Taehyung is the one whos way beneath her.

/////

"Lets go, lets go peopleeee," Namjoon clapped his hands a sign for them to get moving. Taehyung and the rest of the members climbed up their black van, still yawning from having to wake up early in the morning. They are off to another country for a month for their variety show shoot. A special content, the management said. Something to do with their new sponsors. Taehyung never really pay attention to all the boring details, all he knows is, he will do what he is asked to do, no question asked.

But as they land and making their way out from their private plane, Taehyung, still half asleep, need to take a double take when he saw Y/N and her fiance at the arrivals, standing atound with the crew, their luggage all around them.

"H-hyung?" He nervously tapped Yoongi's shoulder.

"What?" Yoongi grumbled, still cranky from being awaken from his beauty sleep on the plane.

"Are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that uh... Y/N?" Taehyung really wished he has gone crazy. Thats he is seeing things. That Yoongi will look at him funny and tell him theres no Y/N. And Yoongi did look at him funny, but his answer is totally not what hes expecting.

"Dont you know? Her father's company is our new sponsor for the show and they are here to monitor the shoot,"

Taehyung stopped in his tracks. He dont know why the news startled him. It shouldnt be affecting him at all. Right? Even he dont understand what he is feeling as he looked over to Y/N and Hyun Dae smiling at each other. Anger? Sadness? Happy? He cant be sure. But one thing he knows for sure, its going to be one hell of a month.

/////

"So... you arent going to tell me that you are engaged?" Taehyung jogged lightly, to catch up with Y/N whom he saw is taking a morning walk from his hotel roon window. They have free schedule for the first day and what luck, the first thing he saw this morning is Y/N, alone. Without that stupid chaebol.

"Oh, uh hi Taehyung," Y/N, startled at his presence, give a small smile and a polite bow.

"Hi Y/N," he smile. Honestly, he missed her. Well, they were pretty close before. As friends. Yes, of course as friends and nothing more! Taehyung reminded himself. "But seriously, you are never going to tell me you are engaged?"

"Do I have to?" Y/N raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm not even sure if I'm your friend or yoongis friend or whatever, you know? And I dont think you be interested to know anyway," she picked up her pace but Taehyung managed to catch up.

"What do you mean?! Of course I wanna know! And of course we are friends! And you didnt think to tell me that you father own half of Korea's music industry?" He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, you never ask. And I'm not one to go around telling people my family history Tae," she shrugged. "Afterall, why would a worldstar want to know about someone who is from a different world than him, right?"

Okay, he deserved that.

"Okay, Y/N, look," he pull her hand, stopping her from walking. "I am sorry about what I said that day. I dont know what I was thinking. I was startled by your confession. To be honest, the months I spent without seeing you at all, well... I missed you. I miss you, okay?"

Y/N sighed. Why is he doing this to her? Her heart is still recovering. Still trying to erased every love she felt for him.

"We are going to spend a whole month working together. Stuck in a small island. Why dont we be friends again? Hmm?" He made his famous puppy eyes, blinking his eyes rapidly, lips pouting. "Pleaaaase? Taetae is sorrryy,"

Y/N tried to keep a sttaight face but burst out laughing. She can never say no to that face.

"Fine Tae. You know I cant resist that stupid face," she laughs.

"So, friends?" Taehyung held out a hand and Y/N shakes it.

"Of course, friends,"

As he shakes her hand, smiling ear to ear, Taehyung realized, he had never felt this happy, and it scared him.

/////

They might have rekindled their friendship, but Taehyung couldnt get even 10 minutes alone with her without being disturbed by Yoongi or Hyun Dae, and its pissing him off. Worse, he have to watch all the romantic moments between the two love birds, and trust him, Hyun Dae is really not afraid to show his affection, its making him wants to throw up.

Suprising Y/N with flowers on set, setting up a special candle light dinner when the whole crew is eating, suddenly gets on stage in the middle of dinner and sing her a song. And that motherfucker can even play a guitar and he look damn good playing it too. Taehyung swore all the girls there are swooning over him. But what he hates most is all the admiring whispers.

"Y/N is so lucky"

"Hyun Dae is the perfect guy"

"I wish I was Y/N"

Urghhh. Annoying.

It also doesnt help that his relationship with Oraia has gone stale. Yeah, they text everyday, call each other every night. But nothing she says interest him. Taehyung mostly tune out whatever shes saying during their phone calls, eyes focusing on what Y/N is doing. The way she laughs when she talks to someone, her clusmy ways of doing things, her passion while working. All that is more interesting to him than his own girlfriend. His supppsedly perfect, beautiful, girlfriend.

It must be the island. He hasnt seen Oraia for almost a month now, and hes stuck here for all that time. Of course it will put a strain on his relationship. Yes, that must be it.

But as his heart bubbles with jealousy as he watches Y/N and Hyun Dae running around the beach, Hyun Dae catching Y/N by the waist and lift her up to kiss her, Taehyung knows for sure, that it is definitely not it.

/////

Taehyung tossed and turned for hours and after eventually still failing to fall asleep, he decide to take a walk by the beach. The moon is out and the breeze is welcoming. Its a good night to walk and collect his thoughts.

As he walked slowly along the beach, the cool air blowing his hair, he saw a figure sitting alone by the beach, eyes closed, enjoying the midnight breeze. Taehyung immediately smile.

Y/N.

"Hey," he approached her slowly and smile.

"Oh, Tae. Hi," she smiled back. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I cant sleep. What about you? Isnt it dangerous for a pretty girl to be alone so late at night?" He smile.

Y/N laughs.

"Its a private island Tae. I think its kinda safe. And you know I usually cant sleep and the sound of the ocean calms me down,"

Taehyung does know that. Back to the days when they use to spend so much time together, they always sit by the beach and talked. Well, usually, he will be the one who do the talking, because all he cares about is himself. And his problems. And Y/N always listen. To all his weird ramblings, his peculiar thoughts that people usually laugh at. Even Oraia sometimes makes fun of him. But Y/N listen to them all. Understand him even. Why didnt he realized that before?

"Well... can I join you?"

"Of course. Have a seat," she patted down the spot besides her and Taehyung makes himself comfortable. They talked and talked, laughter filled up the night air and Taehyung cant seem to care about anything else other than that moment.

"Oh god, my tummy is hurting from laughing so much," Y/N said, still giggling from what Taehyung said. "I forgot how funny and weird you are Taetaeee,"

Taehyung smile and looked at her, staring deeply at her laughing face.

"Its nice,"

"What is?" Y/N who has stopped laughing, asked him, confused.

"Hearing you call me Taetae again," he smile, making Y/N blushed.

"W-well, that is your name,"

"Yeah, yeah. It is," Taehyung smile, still staring at her. "Y/N? Are you happy?"

"Right now? Yeah I am. We have been laughing for hours Tae. Of course Im happy. Whats wrong with you?" Y/N giggles, trying to toned down the awkwardness shes starting to feel.

"No. I mean, are you happy? Like really happy? With Hyun Dae? Does he makes you happy?"

"H-hyun Dae?" Y/N was taken aback from the sudden question. "Uhh, of course I am, hes my fiance, of course he makes me happy Tae,"

"Really? Then why did you stutter?" Taehyung still looks at her, straight into her eyes with his sharp gaze.

"I- I did not stutter! Whats wrong with you Tae? You are being weird. But not normal weird," Y/N starts to dust off the sand off her, preparing to get up. "Its getting late. We should go in,"

Taehyung grab her hands, standing up with her.

"Do you love him? Do you love Hyun Dae?"

"Why are you asking me that Tae? You are being weird!" Y/N tries to shake off his grip but he held on tighter.

"Answer the question Y/N. Do you love him?"

"Hyun Dae is amazing! He cares for me. He loves me. He knows what I like, sweet, romantic, p-"

"But do you love him?"

"I-I," Y/N stuttered. "I dont need to answer that!" Y/N tries to pull her hand again but to no avail.

"You cant answer it because you dont love him. And you cant lie to me," Taehyung smile.

"You are crazy. Let my hand go Tae," Y/N insisted. "It has nothing to do with you!"

"But it does Y/N. It does, because you dont love him. Because you love me," Taehyung state matter of factly. "You always did and you always will Y/N,"

Y/N was speechless, shocked, surprised, that Taehyung would bring it up again. Tears starts to sting her eyes. She has never felt more hummiliated. Is Taehyung making fun of her? Of her feelings? She thought they were friends again. Why is he doing this to her?

"Just let me go!"

"I cant, and I wont,"

"Why?!" Y/N is crying now. She dont understand why Taehyung is being this way. "To hummiliate me even more? To make fun of my feelings for you?"

"What? No!" Taehyung cant believe Y/N would think of him to be that cruel. But maybe he deserved it. "Because I love you Y/N!" Taehyung pull her hands, making her fall into his arms and he immediately cup her face and captured her lips with hers. The kiss has never felt more electricfying. Taehyung felt goosebump all over his body, he hears fireworks went off everywhere. And right at that moment, he knows that hes in love.

But the moment only last for a split second when Y/N, tears already spilled down her cheeks pushed him away hard and slapped him across the face.

"Get away from me Kim Taehyung!"

Was the last word she screamed out before she ran away into the darkness.

/////

Taehyung almost went crazy trying to finish the rest of the shooting. After that fateful night, Y/N took the earliest flight home the next morning, leaving Taehyung with no way to contact her at all. No reply to his texts or his calls and he cant even get away from his stupid schedule to find her at home. He was lost.

Its the very first time in his life that he has seen things so clearly. He is in love with Y/N. And she left him being so lost.

It also doesnt help that after Taehyung told Oraia that he wants to break up, his crazy ex girlfriend bombared his calls, his texts, his friends, even his manager with texts begging to take her back. She even went so far as to include the media, giving sad interviews, crying her eyes out. Taehyung wondered how he didnt notice how crazy Oraia is. Maybe its true what they said, love is blind. But what they had isnt love. It never was. They both know they got together just because they seemed to look perfect for each other. Thats not love, and Oraia is just mad that shes no longer one half of the industry perfect couple.

/////

"Hey Tae?" Yoongi knocks on his hotel room, peeking his head. Theres still a week left of shooting, but Taehyung's heart is no where in it. All he wanted to do is to go back home, find Y/N and begged for her forgiveness until she takes her back. Hes going to convince her that he loves her. He really do. And not because he pity her, or because hes jealous of her relationship with Hyun Dae, but because he just realized it now. That from that moment he asked her where the bathroom is, hes already in love. Y/N has already caught his eyes, and heart from that first night at the concert, but he is too busy chasing his fame and title to realized it.

And now it might be too late.

Taehyung might have already lost the love of his life, forever.

"Yeah hyung?" Yoongi make his way in and sit on Taehyung's bed.

"Did something happen between you and Y/N? Did she going back home early has anything to do with you?"

Taehyung looked at his hyung with tired eyes. No longer bother to pretend or curious why his hyung us asking.

I told her I love her...." Taehyung said, tears stinging his eyes at the memory. "And she thinks I'm just playing her,"

Yoongi sighed.

"Are you?"

Taehyung sits up and hugs a pillow, looking at Yoongi with teary eyes.

"No hyung. Of course not. I really do love her. I love her so much. Im just too stupid to realized it then," he sniffles. "And now, I have to wait until this stupid shoot is over to win her back hyung, because shes not answering my calls or my texts. And I swear hyung, I will do everything to win her back from that Hyun Dae,"

Yoongi sighs again, looking away before looking back at the younger man.

"Tae... Y/N is getting married today. She suddenly said she wants to get married as soon as possible, doesnt matter if its a small wedding. She just wants to get married. Today,"

Taehyung looked at his hyung, eyes widen, not believing what hes hearing.

"I-I have to go hyung," he suddenly gets up.

"Go where Tae? What are you doing?"

Taehyung grabs his bag, not thinking anymore.

"To stop the wedding hyung, to win back the love of my life,"

/////

Y/N looks at her reflection in the mirror. Even with last minute preparations, her mother managed to do everything perfectly. Her dress, her makeup, her hair, her flowers, even her dressing room is perfect. Y/N smile to her reflection. But she knows its only superficial. Its a smile she puts on to convince everyone, to convince herself, that shes making the right decision. The right choice.

That shes happy.

And she know Hyun Dae will make her happy.

He have to.

"Dont marry him,"

Y/N turns around to find Kim Taehyung by the door. His hair a mess, shirt crumpled, eyes bloodshot from crying.

"T-Tae..."

"Dont marry him Y/N," he move closer to her. "Dont do it. Please. Please Y/N,"

"Taehyung, what are you doing here?" Y/N feel tears prickling her eyes. Why is he here. Why now? Why today?

"To tell you I love you Y/N," Taehyung sniffles and take her hand. "T-to tell you to not marry him. Dont marry him Y/N,"

"I-I cant Tae," Y/N shakes her head. "Hyun Dae deserves all the happiness in the world. He treats me so good Tae,"

"Then what about you? You deserve happiness too. Happiness with me Y/N,"

Y/N close her eyes and shakes her head. Why is Taehyung telling her all the things shes dying to hear before? But its all too late now. Too late.

"Marry me Y/N. Marry me. And I'll make you the happiest woman in the world. Marry me," Taehyung sobs and kneel down on his knees, begging, hand still holding hers.

Y/N starts to shake, trying to hold in her tears but it rolled out anyway, flooding her face.

"D-dont do this to me Tae. You dont love me. You dont. You dont!"

"I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! I know I realized it too late. And thats my mistake. But I swear to you, that I'll spend forever making it up to you," Taehyung begs desperately. He cant lose her. He cant! "Please. Please, dont marry him Y/N. Please..."

Y/N closes her eyes. Tears rolling down her face, no intention of stopping. She wanted to say yes. God, how she wanted to say yes. How easy it would be. To be with the man he love. The man he had dreamed of. But she cant. Its not fair to Hyun Dae. And its not fair to her. To her heart that Taehyung has broken to pieces.

"Im sorry Taehyung... I cant," Y/N let go of his hand, tears dropping on the floor, wetting her beautiful white dress.

Taehyung felt like his whole world shattered to pieces. Thats it. Just two words. "I cant" and he lost her. He lost the love of his life.

After felt like an eternity, he stood up, face still wet with tears but a smile on his face.

"You look beautiful Y/N," he smile. "You always do.

Y/N sobs hard, her whole body shakes.

"Be happy Y/N. Hes an idiot if he dont take care of you. If he hurt you like I do. Hes an absolute idiot," Taehyung smile and carressed her face softly. "Be happy my princess. And when the time comes, come back to me. I'll always be waiting Y/N, because you are my true love, and we will always find our way back to each other,"

Taehyung placed a long, deep kiss on her forehead, eyes closed as tears flows down, knowing he has lost the love of his life, trying to savor the feel of her in his memories.

"I love you Y/N. And I'll wait for you, forever," he smile one last time as he turns around and walk away, leaving Y/N drenched in her tears.

/////

5 YEARS LATER

"Woohoooo, last concert for this tour guys, good job!" The members high five each other as they make their way into the dressing room backstage. Taehyung laughs and make his way into his own personal room, exhausted from a show well done.

"Hi, do you know where the bathroom is?"

Taehyung stopped in his track at the sound of the voice. A voice so familiar. A voice that haunts his dream for years. A voice that he never forgets.

He looks up, and there she is. Smiling at him.

"Y-Y/N?"

Y/N nods, giggling.

"Y/N?!" Taehyung runs to her and engulf her in a hug. "I am not dreaming am I? A-are you really here?"

Y/N giggles again.

"Its me Tae. Real life me. Im real,"

"W-why? H-how?"

"Well, if Im not mistaken, 5 years ago, someone told me that we will always find our way back to each other. And that he will wait for me, forever. Im just checking if he still keeps his promise," Y/N grins.

Taehyung hugs her tight.

"You dont know how I dream of this day every single day Y/N. How I waited to see you again. To feel you again. To hear your voice again," Taehyung hugs her, not letting go.

"Ive come back Taehyung. Ive come back to you,"

Taehyung cant believe this is happening. Then he remembered something. And although its something hes dreading to ask, he knows he has to know.

"H-Hyun Dae?"

Y/N smile at his nervous state. She has never seen someone so adorable. God, shes just so in love with him.

"We were never married Tae. When you came that day... everything changed. I didnt marry him. I couldnt. Not when I know my heart belongs to you. And Hyun Dae... he knows it too. And he loves me enough to let me find my own happiness,"

"W-what?"

"Im sorry it took so long. But I need to find myself. To really understand my feelings, your feelings... but Im here now, Taehyung... if you still want me..."

Taehyung grins.

"Is that even a question my love?"

Y/N giggles at the way he calls her.

"I love you Y/N. Since that first night we met. I have been yours. Im sorry for hurting you. Im sorry for my mistakes. Im sorry fo-"

"Shhhh," she puts a finger on his lips. "It doesnt matter anymore Tae. All of it doesnt matter anymore," she smile. "Im here now. You are here now. And I, I love you Kim Taehyung,"

Taehyung grins. Such word has never felt so sweet. He felt happiness bubbling inside his chest. And in the first time in 5 years, he really mean it.

"I love you Y/N, my love, my soulmate,"

"I love you Taehyung. You really had me at bathroom," she giggles.

"Oh shut up," Taehyung laughs and lifts her up, wrapping her legs around him. "Just shut up and kiss me. Just kiss me baby,"

And she really did.

[meikuree]

if i can be sentimental here for a minute, i’m feeling pretty emotional about finally putting up the fic i linked in my previous post, for a couple of reasons. the process of slowly editing it and plucking up the courage to do so over the past couple weeks is one that’s been intertwined with some of my lowest points in my writing enterprise, and the fact that i finally felt like i was in a decent enough place to share it publicly is a bit of an event to me. It’s also one that’s coincided with me finally reaching a relatively stable place with self-confidence, and I want to talk a bit about how I got to that place.

musings put under a readmore because they’re rather long.

some background: for various reasons, that particular fic was meant to be one of those wips I would never publish, and simply abandon to private obscurity. i wrote it three months ago at a time when i was feeling very self-conscious and Very Bad about my usual/natural writing style (which features lots of long sentences dense with not-always-straightforward implication, a tendency to opt for an introspective, stream-of-consciousness style, and liberal/indulgent use of descriptors and metaphors). my insecurity wasn’t the fault of any specific person/event-- it was something that stemmed from my perception that my writing differed (too) highly from fandom conventions i had observed surrounding style, tone, and content, and some personal weirdness around that. but the end result, regardless, was that when i finished the first draft of that fic i quickly looked back and came to the kneejerk verdict that it was terrible, unfixable, unworthy, etc. etc.  

nobody had told me it was terrible; i was simply on a self-critical bender, and did the work of convincing myself that it was so. but it was a blow because it was a piece i’d spent a good bit of time writing, and poured lots of emotional/mental energy into, and to sit there and feel as if it was abysmal and thus had to be abandoned didn’t do any favours for my writing esteem. that was also the time i stopped writing, aside from one other piece, because i believed there was something fundamentally lacking about my writing.

about a month ago i revisited the abandoned wip with fresh eyes, having forgotten most of what i’d written. and — to my complete surprise— i found that it wasn’t at all as bad. it was decent, even, and there were some lyrical turns of phrases/paragraphs i was proud of, and i enjoyed reading it. I basically wept as i read it, because suddenly I wasn’t sure why I’d convinced myself it was irredeemably bad, all those months ago, or why I’d been so harsh to myself.

(around the same time, my partner also told me something that stuck with me— “your writing is good. full stop”— which was a revelation because I’d always thought of my writing more along the lines of “it’ll only hit that mark labeled Good if you do XYZ”. my self-opinion on my writing was essentially contingent upon many arbitrary and constantly changing conditions, which was exhausting. so that was liberating. i realised that if I could just be slightly more confident and go in knowing I was good at some things, already, it would make my writing process a lot more enjoyable and smooth because I’d waste less energy fretting about whether I was hitting those arbitrary standards of Goodness.)

I was convinced my writing was Inherently Bad based on a few arbitrary conclusions (my style differs from what i usually see in X fandom space; therefore it is automatically bad), when more objectively my style was a mix of good and bad. i.e. i do some things well, and some things not as well. which is ultimately natural and common, and nothing to be ashamed of. put very simply, the issue was also that i was giving one too many fucks about mainstream validation. the issue wasn’t necessarily that I wasn’t getting any feedback/response either—I’d gotten a good amount of positive feedback in the past. it was something more endemic, and had to do with how I was so convinced internally of my writing’s low worth that there wasn’t much that external praise could do until I addressed it at the root.

i tried to approach this piece differently, with these issues in mind. I focused on polishing it until I was reasonably happy with it, not until it’d hit some mythic and unattainable standard of perfection. I realized I didn’t care how much quantified reception I got any more (bookmarks, kudos, etc.) because I was simply more excited about Getting It Out There and finally finishing something. I also knew that while it wouldn't necessarily be universally Extremely Amazing, it was decent, and that was good enough for me— and besides, as I was trying to internalize from what my partner had been emphasizing to me, my writing was good regardless of all those external factors (!!). it also felt much, much better to get heartfelt, in-depth feedback from a tiny group of fellow fans whose opinions I valued than to have mainstream approval. my fics (and this one fic I just published) will never be the sort that get 100+ kudos, because I write primarily for f/f rarepairs, but I did send that fic to a few very kind people who offered to read it and their feedback was infinitely more heartening and uplifting than a static kudo.

that leaves me where I am now in terms of my relationship with the fanfic economy and writing. these days, I’m mostly channeling Fiona Apple levels of “I no longer give a shit about reviews”, because attaching myself too firmly to the headwinds of ao3 approval briefly destroyed me. I give significantly less of a damn about mass reception now— even if, or especially because my tastes seem to differ from the fandom’s in terms of writing style and content. i’m more intent on having fun and doing whatever i want. if you’re someone who wants to aim for mass appeal and quantifiable metrics, that’s totally fine— none of this is meant to be a slight against how you approach writing. I simply think it’s a losing game if you’re in as insecure a place as I was previously, and that it was tremendously unhealthy for me.

I’m also moving these days towards cultivating greater community/communality in my fandom endeavours. it takes work and active participation but makes for a far more rewarding fandom experience, I’ve found. what’s more crucial to me-- over asynchronous, one-way and ultimately slightly superficial validation in the form of kudos/likes-- is reciprocity and communal conversation with other fans. and i’m very lucky that in the past few weeks, i’ve gotten a lot closer to a bunch of like-minded fans, with whom i can exchange detailed feedback and enter into meaning conversations about canon/our favourite characters. I write these days less to appeal to some imaginary, amorphous public and more for the enjoyment of friends/other kindred acquaintances whose minds i respect and admire far more. if you only ever receive one-way echoes, that’s extremely lonely-- but if you get to hear that echo turn back, get to hear some other input building upon what you said and not simply replicating it, that becomes something generative. and life-giving.

TLDR: the real fandom was the friendships, community and stable self-worth we forged along the way, not the superficial metrics of glancing validation. 

TLDR 2: i’m learning that there are many acceptable valences between the extremes of “this writing fucking sucks” and “this is my magnum opus which i’ve sweat a blood transfusion for”, that are okay for one’s writing to occupy.

[roccinan]

1/n The post about hating Berlin 》 IT IS SO ME ! Even i hate characters like him, but then he went and died like *that* and Pedro Alonso and his pretty face and pretty voice ugh even i used to feel so guilty for watching edits and then seeing everyone say berlin was the best and we all realised that late I was like,,, yea but no,,, he was also the worst! And I also used to do that thing where you search up essays or comments that he was a bastard and I'd be like yep that he was i don't like him

2/n But I DID LIKE HIM and the first time I realised he was growing on me was right about that Russian roulette scene, I remember being so worried for him and being so mad at Tokyo?? and then he kicked Tokyo out (I love that scene, the music and everything is so EPIC) and I WAS SOLD I was like you're so problematic but you're my fav it just be like that 😅 the bella ciao scene and his affection for sergio just makes me SOFT everytime i think about it + I have a weakness for brothers in media too

3/n Then s3 dropped and while me and my fam were watching even my MOM who HATES him, we all went awww at that reunion scene in Florence, in fact for a second I was so excited that he somehow escaped :') lmao but then in s3 is when I finally accepted my LOVE for him.. his "Forza Michelangelo" and the whole scene leading up to guantanamera where he describes how to break into the vault and the scenes in the monastery between the brothers,,, they just break my heart 

3/n In s3 we see how much Andrés meant to Sergio and when Raquel asks him if it's all just revenge and if rio is just the perfect excuse to avenge his brother it always takes my breath away... and the way Andrés loved the plan so much and he isn't there to see it being executed? All he heard from Sergio when he was alive was how the plan is a disaster and now that his hermanito is actually doing it, he's not there to see it 😭😭😭 he's only a stupid painting on canvas

4/n i'm so sorry for dumping all my feels about andrés onto you, I just miss him so much like even right now if they made a way for him to come back alive I'd take it., I'd ignore all the logical fallacies if I can just see him ALIVE and reuniting with Martín and Sergio again :') one can dream! but yes, what I wanted to say was, that post is a BIG MOOD, and I still do remind myself now and then that they are major jerks (in fact, my sister does all the reminding I need she HATES them all lol)

Anon, are we like linked?? We are literally kindred spirits! LMAO same here. One minute I’m looking up Berlin hate posts and nodding my head along like, “yes, I too am part of the morally superior fandom club.” Then after patting myself on the back for doing the bare minimum of character critique, I went back to watching edits of his pretty face :’D Like, in my heart I always knew I was a hypocrite but I didn’t want to admit it lol. I also did the “no he’s not the best, he’s the worst!” thing you did, but every time he was on screen, I knew where my eyes were going (sadly lol).

I think during s1/2, every time I came close to “liking” Berlin, he’d do something that made me go “that’s terrible!!” until eventually he just crossed so many problematic lines he circled back to being not-problematic by virtue of being such a shameless fucker. He also grew on me during the bella ciao scene; granted, I thought he and Sergio were a couple at this point but I wasn’t too sure. Either way, I couldn’t help feeling soft for that affection (and once it was confirmed they were brothers, after I got over my luke/leia surprise.jpg moment, the brotp feels just went through the roof! And I was like, you know what, their relationship is so much more special as brothers instead. It’s my first time getting invested in fictional siblings so that’s cool.).

Also ngl, that scene where he kicked Tokyo out? Iconic and hilarious. Top 10 lcdp moments for sure XD And his death had me so conflicted because like, it really suited the character but it’s not exactly a redeeming moment because he dragged a hostage down with him for one last moment of trauma. I would have just accepted this as it was and moved on from whatever hangups I had about Berlin (and by hangups, I mean how much I hated the fact that I didn’t hate him lol). But they had to drop S3 and it was too late.

Flashback!Andrés was truly endearing (and once again, not usually the type of character I vibe with!) and Pedro Alonso managed to be even more attractive. This was when I knew no amount of hate comments could save me :’) Now all I can do is grit my teeth and say to myself, “remember that he is an asshole.” Anyway, my compromise now is to stan Pedro the actor but just accepting Berlin the character with all his flaws/nuances. You probably do the same- that’s why it doesn’t bother us to read character hate essays XD It’s like we’re trying to punish ourselves... and failing. 

btw, its funny that you mention your mom because I also watched lcdp with mine. It was a wonderful experience because she told me she disliked Berlin the most in part 1, but she also repeatedly went on about how handsome he was every time he was on screen. I didn’t even properly watch the “Forza Michelangelo” scene because that was the point where she went “whoa, Berlin is so handsome.”

Also, the brothers scenes in the flashbacks were some of my favorites! My all-time favorite lcdp shot is their reunion in Florence. The music, the cinematography, the Emotion on their faces. Just sweep me away :’) 

LOL given the way the bank plan is going, maybe it’s best that Andrés isn’t witnessing it. But it’s so bittersweet how he’s impacting Sergio’s decisions from beyond the grave. The only reason Andrés doesn’t feel dead is because of those flashbacks lol, but when we put them aside, then yeah, it’s like “oof” he’s dead and not coming back. Also I’ve been thinking the past few days about how he’s always the one to say “te quiero” first to others (Sergio and Martin). Neither of them ever got the chance to say it back to him in the show. 

I loved when Raquel asked Sergio if it was about revenge (and he didn’t even answer!) because Sergio’s grief has been very quiet. It’s such a powerful line, shows us that Sergio isn’t as calm about these things as he pretends to be. And it also shows how deeply Raquel understands what he feels/shows how much he told her about his brother. Just a great quiet character moment for everyone all around. 

Don’t apologize, anon! I haven’t had anyone to dump Andrés feels with either haha, so this is a fun experience for us both. And I get what you mean- if he’d just been shot or just been ill, maybe the writers could bring him back in the present. But no, they shot him like 400x and threw a terminal illness on top of it all lmao. I’d pay good money to see how they resurrect him from that. Maybe he’ll make a surprise comeback in the season finale and then immediately sacrifice himself to save the gang again. All in 10 minutes.

so flashbacks are our next best thing :’) It would be lovely to have some berlermo closure, but I’m also totally hoping for some hermanos moments. Anyway, thanks for the messages and glad we share a MOOD. Your sister is your conscience and she is on the right path, she won’t stray from the light like us XD I’m that person who will be like “Yes, rant away, say the truth!” @ anyone who writes comments about why Andrés is a bastard people shouldn’t like, while also giving him my vote in a sexiest character poll. 

[blarrghe]

Kali Broska

Wrote this a bit ago, but didn’t post the full thing to the tumblog. Posting now as it fits @zevraholics Zevwarden Week theme of the day - La Petite Mort (Death). Hope that’s cool =] AO3 Link

If it was supposed to be spelled “Brosca”, Kali didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Kali was a casteless dwarven woman (whether you liked it or not, yes, she was a woman), with two fists that were made for three things: fighting, drinking, and more fighting. She spent her entire life acting as the support of her small family, broken as it was. While she provided the money and food, her mother drank her days away unhappily cursing her children for all they didn’t accomplish, and her father, long dead, had left his daughters with nothing but gambling debts. 

The only person in the world Kali trusted in her life before the Blight was her sister, Rica. Rica had charms that Kali didn’t, and she could win the hearts of even noble men with smiles and pleasant words. Kali supported her sister in her attempts to marry up, and never minded that her own line of work was more brutal, while her sister had to stay focused on her appeal - in fact, she preferred things that way. Rica was safe, and she was free to let her fists do the talking most of the time, which suited her fine.

Apart from Rica, Kali had one close friend in her brother-in-crime, Leske. They weren’t exactly affectionate, but the dwarf had saved her skin more than once in a close fight, and she had many times done the same in return. Life in the slums of Dustown is unforgiving. No friendships are made that can outlast all that Orzammar can throw at a casteless duster, and all told, Kali would still say that she only trusted Leske as far as she could throw him, but, she wagered, that was probably pretty far.  

When a job for her Carta boss went south and Kali was forced into exile, her only real thought was to her sister, Rica. With a heavy heart she left Orzammar to join the Wardens, ready to fight darkspawn for as long as the surface days were long, but occupied all the time with thoughts of her sister. Rica had assured her that prospects with a promising noble house were very good, and that she would be made of noble caste within no time, but Kali hated to leave her with nothing to fall back on. She vowed, somehow, to come into cash enough to help her sister, as soon as the ritual and battle at Ostagar were over.

But things did not go as planned, and long months of fighting darkspawn, werewolves, and demons went by before she could return to Orzammar. Upon returning, she found that her fears had in fact been unwarranted, and her sister was - as promised - poised to marry into nobility - royalty, even! Though the progression of the line was being challenged. Kali had never had any love for the royal ruling class of Orzammar; few dusters did. But this young prince promised progress for the low classes and the casteless, and moreover her sister’s fate mattered above any political jabber. So Kali ran the prince’s errands, feeling little different than she did running errands for the Carta, and doing so brought her again face to face with Leske.

When Leske betrayed her, she was angry, but not surprised. While she had been gathering forces against a blight, her old compatriot had been working his way out of imprisonment, climbing the ladder of hard jobs back to a place where coin could be gotten, and she could not blame him for that. She did kill him though, taking his head in battle with furious skill.

Of all the wonders of the surface world, the animals were Kali’s favourite. In Dustown there are only nugs, bugs, and the occasional panic of a stray darkspawn that breaks through the Deep Road defences. But in the forests of Ferelden there were wolves, bears, even sometimes wild cats. She took on a canine companion, whom she called Kallack - war - and allowed, with bemusement, for the elf-assassin she took to her ranks to continually attempt to impress her with his command of and friendship with various creatures.

Kali enjoyed the attention from the assassin, and she found unlikely friendship in the Warden Alistair, as well. The kid was new to battle, and unfamiliar with death, but he had a warrior's heart and the right sort of spirit to share a drink with, and that led into friendship fair enough.

Leliana, she struggled to understand. The bard was kind, and impossibly sweet, but a little mad and sometimes too soft. Still, Kali grew to trust her like another sister, and she said the same of Morrigan, the witch, in short time. Morrigan was strong, like Kali, and determined in her aims. Kali admired her and consulted with her often, finding her opinions and guidance valuable as she fought to gain respect in the humans’ world. With the help of Morrigan’s shapeshifting magic, Kali’s body was bound in the form it should have been, all along, and the process gave her a peace she had never expected to receive. It was dark magic, perhaps, and Wynne disapproved, but Kali could tell little difference, and generally found that Wynne fretted too much, and asked her to wax philosophical much more than was warranted.

Kali was a woman of few words, she fumbled with writing or responding to letters, and read few books. She could not tell you if Leliana’s songs were worthy of Orlesian courts, nor whether Zevran’s poetry would be considered trite by scholars of such things, but she had no reason to care: to her, these were the finest arts in all the world, and she loved them.

So it was with Kali, her affections were hard-won, but once you had them, they were hard-lost as well. Zevran flattered her, and she began her relationship with him on a thoughtless whim; a pretty thing to warm her bedroll, as he would say. But he strove ever to impress her, and soon, he did. He did not win her heart with his fighting skill, something which Kali admired but could certainly best in contest, but in the way that he could speak in soft rhythms while she simply listened, him never demanding more. And she loved him for the way he understood her life - what it had meant to grow up casteless and penniless, trapped below ground doing dirty work for dirty dealers, without her having to explain any of it. He called her beautiful, stringing together three words that she had never heard woven for her before, and he did so often.

When Morrigan came to her it was with concern, for she knew that Kali would be stubborn and unwilling to dictate choices over Alistair’s body or bed; Alistair naturally asked what she would have him do, and she was honest. By that time Alistair had learned to trust Kali’s leadership, and would have followed her into any insane plan, but Alistair had earned her respect in return, and she had arranged with difficulty for his rule over Ferelden after the battle was ended - a deal made with Anora that Alistair took reluctantly, but with dignity nonetheless. That same dignity she offered Alistair on the eve of battle, telling him to choose of his own volition, and he elected to fight without tricks, fully expecting that if there would be a price to pay, he would beat her to the paying of it.

Kali fought with sword and axe, having learned the art of channeling her anger from the mighty dwarven fighters of the deep roads, and the skills of a champion from her kindred companion, Sten. She was a whirlwind of force in a battle, taking on large and brutish darkspawn without fear, and slaying beasts and evil spirits until her armour ran red with blood. When the dragon came down upon the Wardens on the rooftop, Alistair could not keep his fearsome friend from the fight, and she leapt atop the monster’s back and slew it, relinquishing her soul as she did.

Zevran was not the same after Kali’s death. He wandered back into a life of contract killing and misbehaviour, but with less lightness in his step, and no more evenings filled with poetry. In her final farewell to her bewildered lover, she told Zevran in her own way of how full he had made her heart, how special he had made her feel, how light and happy and full of tingling feeling and deep love; how his love had changed her, shown her a goodness in the world she hadn’t thought to find, guided her through challenges on the surface that in her whole lowly life, she had never dreamed she might face - oh, that she did not have to face those things alone! All of this, she spoke directly into the heart of the reformed Crow with her own three words: “I love you.” She told him, and the two exchanged rings under the stars together, alone and perfect, in a ceremony of their own design - with poetry and love making, and the knowledge that their souls would be forever bonded.

Zevran always knew that his beautiful Warden might be taken from him in the end, and he had spent much of his time with her desperately trying to cling to the strength to accept it. But when that time finally came, that strength failed him, and he took little comfort for a very long time. And even as in time he found new adventures to entertain him, never again did he love, for there were none who could compare, and he wore Kali’s ring until the end of his days.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 10: The Elite

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Nadya finds a kindred soul in Taylor Hunter, who was also living a perfectly normal life before being shoved into the chaos of the supernatural. Later, the good news is the Amulet is still in the city. The bad news is they'll have to bid for it... and bidding wars here can be deadly.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“I don’t know guys,” she lingers just on the edge of the morning sunlight; already warm at her back, “I can’t say I’m entirely comfortable leaving you with the people who literally just tried to kill us.”

Unfortunately though they’re a little short in the way of other options. New Orleans is only gonna get hotter and sunnier and while ideal for a mysterious club, Flechette standing on its own and away from the rest of the crammed-together French Quarter buildings doesn’t lend to a safe return to the Graveyard Shift.

Still — Nadya has concerns and she’s gonna voice them.

“I think we’ll be fine.” Though Adrian could try a little bit harder to reassure her. But he’s been distracted ever since the de la Rosa vampires lowered their proverbial weapons. Given how he acted — how cold and cruel he was in the face of enemies — Nadya can’t say she wouldn’t be a little distracted in his shoes. “Whether we’re in her good graces or not, Gaius still poses a threat to all of us regardless. And Isadora seems quite keen on keeping her way of life intact.”

Lily’s boots catch and drag on the concrete under the soles. “Can’t say I’ll be getting much sleep, but she’s kinda our only choice in the way of, ahem, late-morning snacks.”

Nadya understands and offers her a consoling smile. Lily tries to return it, but when she feels the catch of her fangs on her lower lip she practically zips them up and throws away the key.

She’s seen Lily do some strange things with the blood bags back at the apartment. But Nadya has yet to actually see her… you know, and on someone’s neck. Nor is she keen to add it to the list of things she’s seen and been mentally scarred by.

Well if they’re okay with it she really doesn’t have a reason to keep doubting, then, does she?

Nadya peers over Lily’s shoulder to the main floor of the club. With the lights on the place is far less goth-chic but she doesn’t have to squint to see anything anymore, so that’s a plus.

“Keep an eye on him, will you? Just in case…” Nadya asks of them, prompting both vampires to turn and follow her gaze to where Cadence sits. He’s still hunched over one of the dark glossy tables, scribbling away at a piece of paper. Just like he’s been doing ever since Isadora managed to bring him back to consciousness.

After Cadence had separated Isadora’s psychic link he was out. Like… out out. Like actually worried the woman to the point where she was ready to close the club and run him to some local voodoo man out. And everyone was relieved when he finally came to of his own volition but there was no denying he had come back… strange.

Or maybe strange is just the feeling Nadya gets when she looks at him now. Maybe no one else feels it. Maybe she’s just lost a few more marbles.

Of course Adrian and Lily agree. Nadya gives each of them a hug farewell but right before she takes her leave the familiar sound of Isadora’s heels comes up all too quickly.

The woman stays well out of the way of the daylight, just like Adrian and Lily. She looks wearier now than when they first met. Objectively Nadya knows vampires don’t age. But Isadora looks like she’s trying to challenge that theory.

“I’ve called on someone to take you back to the Quarter safely,” says Isadora brusquely, “it may no longer be night but there are numerous factions within our borders that can act at any time.”

“Seems… inhospitable.” Adrian comments. He doesn’t miss the sharp look thrown his way.

“Perhaps. But at least we declare ourselves to our enemies.”

“And you’re implying…?”

“That I trust my allies with certainty. From what I’ve come to understand about your Council, that is not something you are familiar with.”

How has it been five whole freaking seconds and already every anxiety Nadya has about leaving is back with a vengeance?

But Lily sees this and waves her off. “Go while you still can. I’ve got this. You should hear some of the dirt Mari and Jax pull out during a fight.”

If she doesn’t leave now she never will, so Nadya mouths a final “good luck” and pushes through the doors out into the thick morning air.

Immediately she tries to fan herself with her hand, and all that does is push hot air at her.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to.”

Nadya can’t help it — she almost jumps out of her skin in fright. “Don’tdothat!”

She rounds on the young man, who can’t be older than she is by a year or more, and who apparently finds it funny to give a poor girl a heart attack. If she had her purse she’d swing it at him. The stakes would at least leave a bruise.

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Though I’m gonna need some explaining on how someone that jumpy can hang out in Flechette all night. Doesn’t quite add up, you know?”

He has a point which is rude enough. Worse that he has an incredibly disarming smile directed right at her. Nadya busies herself with tying her hair up to cool off her neck. “After a while you learn to expect what moves vampires are gonna pull. People, though? They’re still too unpredictable.”

“You know,” he laughs, “that’s fair and valid. And pretty true, actually…”

He’s not passing her. And Nadya has the distinct impression if she starts trying to make her way back up the street he’d be right there at her side; tagging along.

“You’re the person Isadora called, then?”

“Taylor Hunter,” he finally introduces; they shake hands light and brief, “but if you didn’t know my name… how’d you know I was who you were lookin’ for, Miss Nadya?”

Nadya pushes up her glasses with a shrug. “Just Nadya, and… Your eyes. They don’t look human.” They’re too bright, especially taking into account he’s got the sun at his back, and shine far too many colors. Though if Nadya’s being honest she probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t met Garrus and Ivy beforehand.

Quickly Taylor ducks his head and Nadya wonders if she’s hit a nerve or something. He certainly looks red in the face. “Shit — really? My bad… They should go back to normal in an hour or so.”

Because she totally knows what that means? “Uh… okay?”

He jerks his chin back towards the heart of the city. “C’mon, we’re meeting a friend of mine to grab everyone coffee. It’ll be a fun story to pass the time.”

Talkative, isn’t he. And there’s a traitorous part of Nadya that knocks on her head one too many times with a hello, who the heck are you to judge missy but what Taylor doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

It’s admittedly very strange to be telling the story she’s telling with new faces taking in her every word.

“That went about as well as I thought it would,” Katherine announces while reaching over and plucking a bottle from around the other side of the bar, “seems like you were lucky, though, and caught Izzy in a good mood.”

“That’s her good mood?” Nadya can’t help but look skeptical. But judging by the looks she’s met with, Katherine isn’t exaggerating.

“Yeah yeah, de la Rosa’s got a chip on her shoulder, what else is new. What about this Amulet you were talkin’ about; does she have it?”

Taylor scrunches up his face and gives a backhanded smack to the solid chest beside him. It had taken Nadya a second to remember the other Nighthunter but once he greeted her by way of ‘muggle’ it was easy. Apparently Ryder hadn’t been putting on airs when he had shown up to Raines Corp. all devil-may-care and bad-boy. That was just who he was.

Not that she doesn’t recognize the somewhat melted look in his eyes when he pretends to be wounded — she’s seen it well enough when Maricruz thinks Lily isn’t looking. “Rook’, you gotta stop beatin’ on me in front of company.”

The man beside Nadya blows a mousy brown curl from his eyes with a laugh. “Feel free to ask one of us to do it.”

“No one asked you, Cujo.”

Katherine rolls her eyes. “Tell me I don’t have to apologize for them?”

Nadya just laughs and shakes her head. It’s been easier than she expected to feel comfortable around Taylor and his friends. They’re just weird enough to be funny. And, admittedly, she’s kinda enjoying not being the odd one out for once.

Too bad Nadya’s natural sense of worry doesn’t allow her to enjoy peace for long. “No — Isadora doesn’t have the Amulet anymore. She had to give it up to pay off some of her father’s debts, I guess?”

Ryder grunts. “Yeah, to th’Smoke.”

“And ‘the Smoke’ is a person?”

“Well… yes and no.”

All eyes turn to Vera, the friend of Taylor’s they had met up with on their coffee run. It’s still a bit weird for Nadya to constantly be pulling her shirt away from the back of her neck from sweat and see someone in full-length silk gloves — but since no one else is going to comment on it Nadya has a feeling doing so would be rude.

Vera is already hard at work pouring over ledgers of some kind; Nadya recognizes those kinds of spreadsheets from work. She carefully balances one black binder each on her knees. “I brought everything dated from last March. There’s just a lot to get through. But if you’re sure Isadora’s telling the truth I should be able to find it pretty easily.”

She looks up and offers Nadya a warm smile. “Don’t you worry, we’ll get it and have you an’ your friends back up to New York in no time.”

“Thank you,” and she looks around as she says it, “all of you, really.  I don’t think I can say it enough.”

Though if the looks she gets are any indication… she might have already.

Unfortunately ‘pretty easily’ turns into one hour, then two, then Taylor is shaking Nadya’s shoulder gently out of a doze with a bemused little smile.

“Maybe you should get some rest? The research part isn’t the most interesting.”

“No, no I’m okay.”

“Then take another coffee run with me. I have to swing by work anyway… stretching your legs might help.”

His borderline-overly friendly attitude makes a bit of sense when one takes into account the weirdness of their mutual situations. On their way back from Flechette, Nadya had been hesitant to open up and dig into the nitty-gritty of it no matter how interested Taylor had appeared. But now, with a bit more time on their hands and more than the cliff-notes shared between them, she can’t help but feel relieved that she’s not the only one who feels like they tripped down the proverbial rabbit hole.

“Okay okay, tell me if you get this though,” Nadya pauses to swallow a bite of her pastry, “when there’s, like, a whole pile of crazy going on and everyone is all freaking out and yelling at each other and you just —”

“You just end up standing there because nobody bothered to give you any context?!”

“Yes! It’s so annoying!”

“Not to mention potentially fatal.”

“Oh don’t even get me started on fatal. I’ve never so much as jaywalked before and now I’ve come face to face with…” it takes her a second to both balance her coffee and count on her fingers but she manages, “four vampires, all of them over two thousand years old. All of which who’ve threatened me at some point or another.”

Taylor hisses through his teeth. “Big yikes.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Though she regrets bringing it up not a moment later. Not just because she keeps pushing that inevitable existential crisis down until their work here is done. But also because one of the four is Kamilah, and if she thinks about Kamilah she thinks about how much she misses Kamilah, and if she thinks about how much she misses Kamilah she might actually collapse into tears.

“You really care about her, don’t you?”

The needle scratches on Nadya’s thought-record. When she looks up Taylor has a furrow in his brow and a painfully sympathetic look directed at all of her being. Unsettling doesn’t even cover it.

She’s getting tired of people poking around in her head without her permission.

Though before she can get so much as a word in, Taylor seems to come back to himself. Where he was, Nadya can’t say, but she knows the signs when someone can’t entirely stop themselves from doing something. “Sorry,” he clears his throat awkwardly and won’t look her in the eye, “that was super outta line.”

“Yeah, a bit.” But what’s the use in denying it? “You’re not wrong though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Didn’t read my mind that far?”

Taylor shakes his head. “It’s not really mind-reading so much as… emotion-reading? Or like real-deal empathy, I guess. My father says it’s some unique halfling thing. Fae can share a lot more with each other than humans can, but because I’m not full on Legolas, I only get a part of the package.”

Nadya knows that look. She’s seen it in the mirror enough times.

“One of those bonuses you didn’t ask for.”

“Exactly. Not that it hasn’t come in handy,” he quickly backtracks, “I think it saved our lives back last year. But an instruction manual would’ve been nice — all I’m sayin’.”

Preaching to the choir. “Her name is Kamilah. She’s…” He can tell, though. Does she have to say it aloud?

When Taylor smiles at her it’s a sad thing. No, she doesn’t.

Although when might she have another chance to talk to someone who understands? Because she tried that with Kamilah — and they both know how that went. Not Adrian, or Lily, or even Jax could have even the slightest bit of empathy for what Nadya is going through against her will. And here’s Taylor thrown into her lap with a little bow on top; not only someone who gets what it’s like to be on the outs of all this supernatural crap but also a literal empath.

How can the universe begrudge her for taking advantage of that?

She inhales deep and shaky. “I—we—she and I kinda had a fight right before we left New York. I think it was our first one…”

Nadya remembers reading somewhere that therapy works because telling a stranger your problems is a lot easier than telling your friends; they don’t have any stake in your future, or have sides they need to choose. Well try telling a therapist about the secret group of vampires who run Manhattan, she had thought skeptically. Now, she takes that cynicism back.

While she recounts the events of her fight with Kamilah, Taylor just listens. He nods, and ‘hmms,’ and asks for clarification here and there but it’s more than just proving he’s listening. Nadya tries not to notice but the way his expressions change with her tone and words… he’s feeling everything she is. And boy, does she feel bad for him for it.

They end up walking around in nonsensical circles until finding their way to the only familiar place Nadya knows; Jackson Square. Taylor casually gets them to one of the old wooden benches outside the church. A small four-man jazz band plays off in the shade to a growing semicircle of tourists.

She sips the last dregs of her coffee cold and too-sweet. “I get what she meant and where she was coming from, I do. But I also can’t help but get this feeling like all that I saw in my visions were things she wouldn’t have told me no matter how much I asked… And I know why, obviously, but…”

But there are too many places in her whole explanation that Nadya’s said ‘but’ and even she’s starting to get irritated by it.

“You know,” Taylor swings an arm around the back of the bench, “just because you understand her side of things doesn’t mean your side isn’t just as important. You can fight with someone you care about and have both of you be right and wrong.”

“Then how do we ever stop fighting?”

He laughs dryly. “Oh, fuck if I know. Nik and I get into it constantly about his jobs. He’s always trying to keep me from helping him out but he’s probably more at risk when I’m not around. At least I have magic — even if I suck at using it right now. He’s smart, and strong, and really good at what he does… I just can’t help but worry one day that won’t be enough.

“I think there are a lot of things in Kamilah’s life she regrets; things she thinks will change your opinion of her — that’ll make you hate her or something. And a lot of relationships are like that. There’s just more baggage to sort through with you two.”

Wow, thanks genius. “I won’t hate her though. That’s what I can’t seem to explain right.”

“The best thing you can do is what you’re already doing. Keep explaining it, keep being there, and she’ll realize in her own time what that means.”

Nadya watches him carefully. “Is that what you and Ryder did?”

“Sorta — but we’re working on it.”

It was supposed to be a simple errand run but Nadya can’t shake the feeling there isn’t exactly a search party out for them. She’s not complaining! If the universe is listening she is not complaining. It just makes the return to their very dark, gruesome, and potentially apocalyptic reality all the more difficult. Luckily she’s getting used to dealing with difficult things by now.

When they finally return to the bar business is booming; thank god Taylor gives her a nudge to pick her jaw up off the floor or else she’d probably have offended half of the patrons. Can she really be blamed though? It looks like freakin’ Comic Con in here.

There’s a shrill whistle near the bar at the back and they both catch sight of Cal waving them over. “Everyone’s upstairs!” he has to practically shout over a gaggle of taloned women adorned in feathers, two of them seemingly in heated competition for his attention. “I’d head up but —”

“Oh no you don’t!” Garrus appears over his broad shoulders as if from nowhere. “You’re half the selling point of these sweet swamp shots, Bayou-boy. Sorry my not-so-mortals!”

Taylor and Nadya both watch with equally pitying looks as the fae pushes Cal into the fray. “One day he’s gonna realize I didn’t do him any favors getting him this job,” Taylor mutters close to her ear, and Nadya tries to throw up a sympathetic thumbs-up before they manage to get to the metal staircase and up away from the chaos.

There are way too many people in this apartment. Taylor takes this as an opportunity to literally fall into Ryder’s lap; Ryder is just forced to take it without argument or fight. But Lily has a spot saved right in between her and Adrian which Nadya takes all too eagerly.

“Girl, look at you,” Lily pinches her cheek, “you finally got some sun! Now lemme soak some of it up.”

While one vampire clings to her arm, though, the other is quite pointedly keeping his distance. Nadya turns and gives Adrian a cautious look. He smiles, she would expect nothing less, but the strain shows in little crinkles at his eyes that definitely weren’t there before.

Wordlessly she rests her head against his arm. Adrian tenses — she doesn’t take it personally — but relaxes in the same breath. Rests his hand on her knee in a silent thanks.

Movement draws Nadya’s attention to a small kitchen island where Katherine balances herself on a stool, and where Cadence stands beside her with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“Hey Cade,” she gives him a little wave, “feeling better?”

The vampire looks at her… and that’s it. There’s still a bit of frenzied confusion in his eyes. Confused, she shifts her attention to Katherine — the huntress just shakes her head.

“Oh good, y’all are back.” Vera walks in from the adjacent room and offers a weary little smile. “Good news is we found the Amulet, and its still in New Orleans.”

But what sentence ever started with good news that didn’t include…

“And the bad news?” asks Taylor; his tone a tad too defeatist for Nadya’s liking.

Ryder growls. “The bad news is I gotta put on a fuckin’ monkey suit.”

The actual bad news is that the Amulet of Nero was put up for auction by the former Lady Smoke. And apparently no amount of money will convince the auctioneers to take it off the docket. “Trust me, Kamilah and I pooled together a substantial sum,” Adrian sighs, “and they didn’t even flinch.”

Vera nods. “If anything that only encouraged them further. Goblins are awful little sneaks but whatever business they sink their claws into is their reputation; they’ll live and die by it. In trying to buy out the Amulet you’ve shown something that could have easily been written off has the potential to get them a lot of money.”

Goblins — she said goblins. Okay. That’s a thing we’re accepting now. “So we need this thing to keep the world from ending and… we have to buy it?” In what world is that fair?

“Isadora has agreed to put her Family’s wealth behind our bid,” Adrian explains, “which should be more than enough for us to ensure we aren’t outbid. And this way we don’t attract Gaius’ attention by riling up the supernatural community. The less enemies we make, the better.”

He knows the question on the tip of her tongue. Nadya knows it, Lily knows it too. But she won’t ask it because their lucky streak has so far not been entirely consistent.

What if they already have Gaius’ attention?

They’ll burn that bridge when they get to it.

BEEP.

“Hey Kamilah, it’s me… again. Sorry, I let the last three messages go too long and I’m not really sure if they still send when that happens? So… here I am.”

Nadya looks down at her bracelet and sighs. She nearly loses her balance — heels and gravel walkways don’t mix well together — but manages not to sound like a total loser on the call. “At risk of this becoming the fourth mistake, uh, I’ll be quick. Adrian said he kept you up to date with what’s going on down here, so this isn’t... About that… I just wanted to say hi, and I hope you’re doing well, and… and let you know that I miss you.

“If I had a choice I wouldn’t have left things like we did. I think we both know that. And the second I’m back in New York I want to try and work this out. For… for us, y’know? And I think you do, too.” She sniffles. “You still have your read receipts on for texts. Anyway, gotta get going. Wish me—us—luck!”

She hangs up there because even for Nadya there’s only so many times she can make herself look stupid until she makes the turn from charming and quirky to downright annoying.

Four is probably pushing it.

She wobbles her way back to the others smiling a little too wide, but thankfully no one comments on it. Vera offers her a clunky gold ring but the second Nadya slips it onto her finger it seems to fit like it was sized and all. “Magic ring?”

“Magic ring.” Lily nods, delighted to be agreeing.

“Too bad Cal couldn’t come with this time,” Taylor elbows Ryder’s side gently, “he deserves the chance to not have to sneak through the kitchens.”

Ryder, however, doesn’t seem to share the sentiment. “I feel like a damn sellout,” grumbles the hunter as he adjusts the cuffs of his borrowed suit. Adrian raises an eyebrow his way. His suit is the one being borrowed, after all. “I said what I said.”

“Yeah, nobody cares.”

Katherine tugs up the top of her dress and brushes her hair away from her shoulder. “We get in, we bid, we get the Amulet and get out. Any more time wasted and someone, somewhere is gonna recognize someone and nobody wants that.”

She rounds on Nadya and Lily both. “Don’t go anywhere on your own, don’t talk to anyone especially the people who are nice to you, and I’ll tell you right now that none of these snakes can make your wishes come true.”

They don’t know whether to take her seriously or not. Lily’s laugh is a few shades shy of offended. “I think I know how to have fun.”

“This isn’t fun, baby fangs, it’s Persephone. The last time we were here Cade —” she jerks her thumb to the vampire; who quickly snaps out of his own little world and blinks in confusion, “— ended up nearly getting gored by a Minotaur in illegal cage fighting; a fight that was supposed to be carried by Cal’s prepubescent Teen Wolf baby brother.

“Everyone through those doors has been playing the game of money and power for decades, some for centuries. They know there are worse things to lose than your life.”

Nadya pulls Lily tighter and links their arms. “Read you loud and clear.”

Unfortunately threatening-if-considerate speeches aside, the likelihood that they’re going to be the reason something goes wrong is… statistically pretty high.

At least they do the noble thing and own it.

“Everybody ready?” Vera looks around, checks for rings, and smooths down the front of her dress. “Then in we go.”

Lily snickers in her ear as they all join the line to enter Persephone. “I’m having middle school field trip flashbacks.” She whispers, and pulls back to Nadya’s equally amused grin.

To say the inside of Persephone is beautiful is definitely an understatement; but it’ll have to do while Nadya tries to catch her jaw as it hits the floor and starts running. She thought Marcel’s castle was beautiful? It still is — but it was so obviously an antique; a relic from a bygone era. This is different. This is a kind of beauty not taken from one place or thing. It’s everyone; all the infinite colors and shapes and species of people that mill around her.

It’s kind of a shame that she’s come to associate beautiful things with how close to being threatened or killed she’ll soon be. It kind of dulls the spark of the place.

Nadya and Lily both crane their heads up, up, four floors up to the swooping ceilings above and their glittering chandeliers — which Nadya has an inkling aren’t made of glass at all but real magical energy in bright playful lights. All around the edges of the landings people gather, leaning and chatting and drinking in that uppity way people with money do. Like even all of this splendor bores them; everything meaning nothing.

A hand falls on her shoulder and Nadya has to stifle her yelp — unlike the first time Taylor startled her she now feels comfortable with reaching out and smacking his arm. “Stop giving me heart attacks!”

Judging by the bright and definitely inhuman glint in his eyes he definitely did it on purpose.

“It’s all kinda epic, huh?”

“Kind of?” Lily scoffs dramatically. “This is the single most epic place in the entire universe!”

Ryder passes them all and rolls his eyes. “You should see Toronto.”

But this time, all overzealous Lilyisms aside, Nadya has to admit she agrees. “It’s… a lot. More than I ever thought I’d see…” And she’s been seeing quite a lot these days.

“Come around next year for Mardi Gras, ‘cause this is nothing.”

At first Nadya doesn’t recognize the woman without the sheer veil over her features, but when Lily and Adrian don’t ask why a stranger is leading them up one of the swooping twin staircases she realizes Isadora’s sent one of her daughters to collect them.

Tony and an unfamiliar vampire stand guard on either side of a circular booth and table that looks like it was made for the de la Rosa Matriarch alone — sleek black stone polished so pristine Nadya catches the woman’s reflection before actually looking up at her face.

Adrian steps aside and allows Nadya to slide into a seat first. Isadora seems to barely notice them. Instead her attention is focused solely on a large piece of curling parchment that — nope, that’s not a trick of the light — the ink is actually moving like an invisible quill is scratching notes right in front of her face.

“Is that the registry?” Adrian asks, and Isadora slides it to him with a furrowed brow.

“Indeed. Word must have been leaked out by a few of their underground sources. The preemptive bids on the Amulet are starting to climb.” The vampire looks to Vera as she speaks. “Whatever has the new Lady Smoke interested enough to show her face around our nefarious sort is worth quite a hefty amount.”

Taylor squeezes Vera’s shoulder — it isn’t until he tenses that Nadya realizes he’s holding the gloved woman back.

“I’m here to help my friends,” she growls out in reply.

Isadora doesn’t look amused. “Try telling that to New Orleans’ elite.”

She’s been under the impression everyone was sticking together, but it seems the fancy-pants de la Rosa booth is for vampires (and human guests) only. But Taylor and Vera leave shortly after to where she spots Ryder cradling his flask like a security blanket in a far less fancy booth on the other side of the main floor.

Silently Isadora moves the barest inch; just enough space to fit both Cadence and Katherine on her side. Instead he clears his throat and volunteers to grab the drinks, and nearly runs into a pair of waiters in his haste to not be there.

Adrian rolls up the magic scroll and puts it aside. “How long until the first lot comes out?”

“It will be showcased at the hour,” Isadora raises a limp wrist with a black card in hand, “which won’t be long from now. Are you prepared for a bidding war? I do hope you brought a second suit.”

A stunningly beautiful fae approaches with a small wooden box. They unfasten the lid and allow the vampiress to slide the card in, offer up a “thank you for your contribution,” and go off in search of the next card to accept.

But second suit? Doesn’t that get Nadya’s attention. “Why would he need a second suit,” but why is she asking Isadora when Adrian is right there, “why would you need a second suit?”

He shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “From what I’ve been told, bidding wars here… are a little messy.”

The vampiress snorts softly. “Money is valuable, but this is New Orleans. If you made it as far as the interior of Persephone you ought to have more to offer than wealth. Bidding wars can involve anything from shows of strength to tests of skill and intelligence. Two centaurs had a proper race on the lawn once.”

The more words she says the less certain Nadya feels. It leaves her tangled up inside and actually holding her stomach with a groan.

“Please tell me you’re gonna offer up your business acumen.” And she actually physically can’t look at his apologetic face so Lily goes above and beyond and pushes it away and out of sight.

“That’s why we needed as much for our initial bid as possible.” Adrian tries his best to console her. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure it won’t even come to something that drastic.”

“I thought I told you to stay the hell away from me!”

She’s a tiny human and Adrian is a hundreds-of-years-old vampire, so he probably doesn’t find her shaking both fists at him to be a scary thing. But it makes her feel better and that’s all Nadya cares about. Well, that and the look of confusion-meets-panic Katherine throws her way.

“Was that —?”

“Scooch scooch scooch please and thank you!” Nadya forces the vampires to let her out and follows the Nighthunter as she rushes to the railing to try and find Cadence in the crowd below.

“Something’s upset you, I just want to help.”

“Being stalked is pretty damn upsetting.”

Thank god the railing is there to catch her because Nadya’s breath is knocked from her lungs. Adrian and Lily are at her sides in an instant and thank god for them, too, because they look just as shocked and that means she isn’t imagining things. She isn’t imagining that voice.

Katherine comes up alongside them, her grip white-knuckled and harsh against the ornately twisted metal bar.

Down below there’s a bar in the middle of the floor on a slowly rotating dais. Some of Persephone’s patrons skirt away from the display before it turns into a fight — and it looks like that won’t take more than a wrong word or touch. But most of them are greedy for more than money, hungry for more than fine wine and foods. They want blood; that’s why they’re here.

Cadence smacks Valdas’ hand away before the man can reach for him. He looks wild like a startled animal; backed up against the bar top and looking frantically for a means of escape.

“You’ve repeatedly ignored my requests not to come to my workplace, you send me flowers I don’t want and cannot refuse, and now you — you show up here, of all places?”

Valdas watches him with an uncharacteristic distress. “Cadence, you’re upset. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking clearer than I have in years.”

The vampire practically spits the words through his clenched teeth. But that doesn’t make them any less strange in nature.

Valdas steps back. “And what, pray tell, has brought that on?”

In that moment Cadence’s frantic eyes find Katherine up above; his relief is visible even from a distance. Unfortunately the Trinity vampire is so close it can’t be denied. Has him turning to find the thing that managed what he could not in calming the other man in his fear—rage—mania.

He recognizes Katherine slowly then all at once; sweeping his eyes over the onlookers until they land on Nadya.

“Adrian,” she reaches blindly back behind her; feels his hand close tight and steadfast around hers, “I really hope you brought that second suit.”

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 8

Angel Olsen

Now half a year in the pandemic, we’re starting to see the emergence of quarantine records, whether in the trove of reissues hastily assembled to stand in for new product or home recorded projects made with extremely close friends and family or albums that are conceived and written around the concept of isolation. Music isn’t real life, exactly, but it lives nearby. And in any case, it’s still music and can be good or bad whether it’s been unearthed from a forgotten box of tapes, recorded at home without collaboration or side people or technologically gerry-rigged so that distanced partners can work together. So, as long as you all are making music, we will continue to listen and find records that move us, as the world burns all around. This edition’s contributors included Patrick Masterson, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty. Enjoy.

+ — #playboy (Deluxe Edition) (self-released)

#playboy (deluxe edition) by +

One of the most genuinely confounding records I’ve heard this year comes courtesy SEO-unfriendly artist + aka Plus Sign fka Emanuel James Vinson, a Chicago rapper, city planner and all-around community activist who spends his time helping with the city’s Let’s Build Garden City initiative when he’s not making music (which is frequent, by the way — take a look at the breadth of that Bandcamp discography). The concept with #playboy, originally released in April but deluxed in late May, is simple: Two kids find a music machine called #playboy in their basement and start tinkering with it. Its childlike whimsy is conveyed in the song titles (“Getting the Hang of It,” “Wake Up Jam (Waking Up)”) every bit as much as it is in the music, with occasionally grating indulgences, the odd earworm and a brief appearance by borderless internet hip-hop hero Lil B that makes perfect sense in context; the kindred spirit of that community-building cult auteur is strong here. You may wind up loving this record or you may wind up hating it, but I can promise you this: You’ll be thinking about it and the artist behind it long after it’s over.

Patrick Masterson

 Actress — Mad Voyage Mixtape (self-released)

I once suggested Darren Cunningham mucks about with his music because he can’t help himself. That was about six years ago on the occasion of his purported “final” album Untitled; with the benefit of hindsight, we can see he was (like so many others, to greater or lesser consequence) just pulling our leg with that PR. Hell, he’s released two albums worth of music in July alone: The first was the mid-month surprise LP 88, which follows in the vein of his acclaimed high period as an often brilliant, occasionally frustrating patchwork of submersible beats best played at high volume with a low end. The second came at the end of the month in an m4a file shared the old fashioned way on a forum via Mediafire link, nearly an hour and a half long, and per the man himself, “All SP-303, sketchbook beats, recorded this past week [the first week of July] straight to recorder or cassette.” It feels very much like a homespun Actress mixtape and is probably best thought of as livelier accompaniment to 88 but, even still, there’s no noticeable drop in quality — once Actress, always Actress. If headier lo-fi beat tapes are your beat, this will slot comfortably in line.

Patrick Masterson

  bdrmm - Bedroom (Sonic Cathedral)

Hull five-piece bdrmm play a satisfyingly crepuscular version of shoegaze on their debut album Bedroom. Ryan Smith, his brother Jordan on bass, guitarist Joe Vickers, Danny Hull on synths and drummer Luke Irvin combine the widescreen sound of Ride with a cloak of gothic post-punk. Like the late, lamented Girls Names, bdrmm find a sweet spot where atmosphere and dynamics either build to euphoric crescendos or bask in bleak funereal splendor. Bedroom seems deliberately sequenced from celebration to lament. “A Reason To Celebrate” evokes Ride at their most anthemic, the tripping staccato driven “Happy” summons the spirit of The Cure of Seventeen Seconds before the pace drops for the second half, the songs become quieter and darker as the band finds a more personal voice. “(The Silence)” is an ambient whispered wraith of a thing, “Forget The Credits” impressively mopey slowcore. bdrmm don’t always transcend their influences, but this debut is an atmospheric treat if your taste runs to the darker end of the musical buffet.

Andrew Forell  

 Circulatory System — Circulatory System (Elephant 6 Recording Co.)

Circulatory System by Circulatory System

Nearly 20 years after its initial release, the excellent eponymous debut album by Will Cullen Hart’s psychedelic chamber-pop band Circulatory System gets a long overdue vinyl reissue. While his previous project, the undeniably great Olivia Tremor Control, tended to lean more towards classic psych-pop’s traditional tropes — hard-panned drums, loads of disorientating tape effects, wonky harmonized vocals — Circulatory System taps into something utterly uncanny. Both Signal Morning (2009) and Mosaics Within Mosaics (2014) have their moments, but this is front-to-back brilliant, conjuring a sublime atmosphere of reflective estrangement. The music is a thick, grainy soup of shimmering instrumentation, from the eerie (“Joy,” “Now,” “Should a Cloud Replace a Compass?”) to the joyful (“Yesterday’s World,” “The Lovely Universe,” “Waves of Bark and Light”), but part of the album’s magic is the way everything flows into a seamless whole. As is vinyl’s tendency, the rhythm section really comes alive here, the fuzz bass and tom-heavy drum parts booming out, with plenty of vivid details in the mix swimming into view. A worthy reissue of an essential album.

Tim Clarke

 Cloud Factory — #1 (Howlin’ Banana)

Cloud Factory #1 by Cloud Factory

Cloud Factory, from Toulouse, France, overlays the serrated edges of garage pop with a serene dream-pop drift. It’s an appealing mix of hard and soft, like being pummeled to death by pillows or threatened gunpoint by a teddy bear. “Amnesia,” for instance, erupts in a vicious, sawed off, trouble-making bass line, then soars from there in untroubled female vocals. Later, “No Data,” punches hard with raw percussion, then lays on a liquid, lucid guitar line that encourages middle-distance staring. None of these songs really up the ante with memorable melodies, sharp words or that intangible R’NR energy that distinguishes great punk rock from the so so. Not loud, not soft, not great, not bad. Cloud Factory resides in the indeterminant middle.

Jennifer Kelly

 Entry — Detriment (Southern Lord)

Detriment by Entry

Nuthin fancy here, folks. Just eight songs — plus a flexing, fuzzing intro — of American hardcore punk. Entry has been grinding away for a few years now, and Detriment doesn’t advance much past the musical terrain the band marked off on the No Relief 7-inch (2016). That’s OK. The essential formula is time tested: d-beat rhythms, overdriven amps and Sara G.’s ferocious vocals delivering the necessary affect. That would be: pissed off, just this side of hopeless. Detriment sounds like what might happen if Poison Idea (c. 1988) stumbled into a seminar on Riot Grrrl; after everyone got tired of beating the living shit out of one another, they’d make some songs. “Selective Empathy” is pretty representative. Big riffs, a breakdown, and more than enough throaty yelling to let you know that you’re in some trouble. You might recognize the sound of Clayton Stevens’ guitar from his work with Touché Amoré — but maybe it’s better if you don’t. This isn’t music for mopery. Watch out for the spit, snot and blood, and flip the record.

Jonathan Shaw  

 Equiknoxx — VF Live: Equiknoxx (The Vinyl Factory)

There’s nothing like a little roots music to get you through the sweltering summer heat, and this early July mix by Gavin “Gavsborg” Blair (half of forward-thinking Kingston dancehall unit Equiknoxx) was a personal favorite of the past month for hitting that spot. The group tends to throw curveballs at the genres it tinkers with, and Blair’s mix highlights why they’re so good at it: The crates run deep. Spanning everything from legendary producer and DJ Prince Jazzbo to in-house music fresh out the box (e.g., “Did Not Make This For Jah_9” was released in late May), Blair sets the mood and educates you along the way. Like everything else these cats do (and that includes the NTS show — support your independent radio station!), it’s hard not to give the highest recommendation.

Patrick Masterson  

 Ezra Feinberg — Recumbent Speech (Related States)

Recumbent Speech by Ezra Feinberg

Knowing that Ezra Feinberg is a practicing psychoanalyst, it’s tempting to read meaning into the name of his second solo album. But be careful to think twice about the meaning you perceive and ask yourself, is it the product of Feinberg on the couch or your own projection? His choice to name one of the record’s six instrumentals (there are voices, but no words) “Letter To My Mind” certainly suggests that there’s an internal dialogue at work, but the music feels most like a layered deployment of good ideas than an exchange of intrapsychic forces. The synthesizers shimmer and cycle like something from a mid-1970s Cluster record, resting upon a pillow of vibraphone and electric piano tones, which in turn billow under the influence of undulating layers of drums. Feinberg’s guitar leads are bright and pithy, like something Pat Metheny might come up with if he knew he was going to have to pay a steep price for every note he played. Ah, but there I go, projecting an implication of adversary process where there may be none. Might it be that Feinberg, having spent a full work week immersed in the psychic conflicts of others, wants to lay back on the couch and exhale? If so, this album is an apt companion.

Bill Meyer  

 Honey Radar — Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years (Chunklet)

Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years by Honey Radar

Jason Henn of Honey Radar has a solid claim at being his generation’s Bob Pollard, a prolific, absurdist songwriter, who tosses off hooky melodies as if channeling them from the spirit world. His least polished material glints with melody hidden beneath banks of fuzz, whispery and fragile on records, but surprisingly muscular in his rocking live shows. This 28-song compilation assembles the singles, splits, EPs and bonus tracks Henn recorded for Chunklet between 2015 and the present; it would be a daunting amount of material except that it goes down like cotton candy, sweet, airy, colorful and gone before you know it. Like the Kinks, Henn has a way of making strident rock and roll hooks sound wistful and dreamy. In “Lilac Pharmacy,” guitar lines rip and buck and roar, but from a distance, hardly disrupting Henn’s placid murmur. “Medium Mary Todd” ratchets up the tension a bit, with a tangled snarl of lick and swagger, but the vocals edge towards quiet whimsy a la Sic Alps; a second version runs a bit hotter, rougher and more electric, while a third, recorded at WFMU, gives an inkling of the Honey Radar concert experience. A couple of fine covers — of the Fall’s early rant “Middle Class Revolt” and of the Monkees rarity “Wind-Up Man”— suggest the fine, loamy soil that Henn’s art grows out of, while alternate versions of half a dozen tracks hint at the various forms his ideas can take. It’s a wonderful overview of Honey Radar so far, though let’s hope it’s not a career retrospective. Henn has a bunch of records left to make yet if he wants to edge out Pollard.

Jennifer Kelly

 Iron Wigs — Your Birthday’s Cancelled (Mello Music Group)

Your Birthday's Cancelled by IRON WIGS

As an adjective, “goofy” had gotten a bad rep in hip hop. Anything that is unusual, inventive and not in line with “keeping it real” is immediately stigmatized as goofy, weird, nerdy and bad. Iron Wigs is goofy but hold the pejorative connotations. Chicago representatives Vic Spencer and Verbal Kent team up here with Sonnyjim from the UK to do some wild rhyming. They collaborated before, but Your Birthday’s Cancelled is a complete, fully fleshed project, masterfully executed from start to finish. Instead of the usual gun busting you get a fist in the ribs. Instead of drug slinging, a blunt to activate your rhymes. Each member of the group has a distinctive delivery which makes you to listen carefully for every verse, no skipping. It’s a relief to listen to rap artists who don’t pretend they’re out in the streets while they’re at home enjoying a favorite TV series. The standout track here is “Bally Animals & Rugbys” with Roc Marciano dropping by for a verse.

Ray Garraty  

 Levinson / Mahlmeister — Shores (Trouble In Mind)

Shores by levinson / mahlmeister

Jamie Levinson and Donny Mahlmeister’s Bandcamp page indicates that they’re based in Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago. This goes further towards explaining their association with Trouble in Mind Records, which is located in the same county, than their music, which brings to mind something much further north. The duo’s music is mostly electronic, with modular synthesizers setting the pulse and sweeping the pitch spectrum while lap steel guitar adds flourishes and a shruti box thickens the textures. The album is split into two, with each track — one is named “Ascend,” the other “Release” — taking up one side of a 50-minute cassette. The first side trundles steadily onwards, and the second seems to bask in a glow to that never totally fades. Since there’s no “Descend,” it’s easy to imagine this music sound tracking a drive into the Canadian north, the journey unspooling under a sky that never darkens, its progress towards Hudson Bay unhindered by other traffic or turns in the road. Perhaps that’s just one listener’s fantasy of easy social distancing and escape from the present’s grim digital glare into a retro-futurist, analog dream. But in dreams we’re free to fly without being seated next to some knucklehead with his mask over his eyes instead of his mouth, so dream on, dreamers. This tape is volume one of the Explorers Series, Trouble in Mind’s projected program of limited edition cassette releases.

Bill Meyer

 Klara Lewis — Ingrid (Editions Mego)

Klara Lewis’s latest recording shows a narrowing of focus. Previously she seemed to be trying ideas and methods on for size, investigating ambient electronics or hinting at pop melody without completely committing. Given the approach to music modeled by her father, Graham Lewis of Wire and Dome, she probably does not feel the need to do just one thing, and that’s a healthy angle if one wants to stay interested and flexible. But there’s also something to be said for really digging into an idea, and that’s what she has done here. Ingrid is a one-track, one-sided 12.” Burrowing further into one-ness, it is made from one looped cello phrase, which gets filtered and distorted on each pass. The effect suggests decay, but not so much the gradual transformation of a William Basinski piece as the pitiless abrasion of a woodworker going over a plank with sander. The combination of repetition and coarsening hits a spot closer to one that Tony Conrad might reach, and that’s an itch worth scratching.

Bill Meyer

Luis Lopes Humanization 4tet — Believe, Believe (Clean Feed)

The cruel economics of contemporary creative music-making favor an ensemble like Humanization 4tet. At a minimum, the filial Texan rhythm section of Stefan and Aaron Gonzalez (drums and bass respectively) and Lisbon-based duo of Rodrigo Amado (tenor saxophone) and Luís Lopes can each count on having the other half of a band on the other side of the Atlantic. But any project that’s on its fourth record in a dozen years has more going for it than the chance to save on plane tickets. For the Portuguese musicians, it’s an opportunity to feel an unabashedly high-energy force at their backs, as well as a chance to drink from a deep well of harmolodic blues. And for the Gonzalez brothers, it’s the reward of being the absolute right guys for the job; it has to be a gas to know that the heft they put into their swing is so deeply appreciated. While Lopes’ name remains up front, everyone contributes compositions, and everyone gives their all on every tune.

Bill Meyer  

 Joanna Mattrey — Veiled (Relative Pitch)

Veiled by Joanna Mattrey

This solo CD, which closely follows a collaborative cassette on Astral Spirits, is only the second recording with Joanna Mattrey’s name on the spine. But Mattrey is no newcomer. The New England Conservatory-trained violist has been playing straight and pop gigs for a while. If you caught Chance the Rapper on Saturday Night Live, Cuddle Magic with strings or a host of classical gigs around New York City, you’ve seen her. But if black dress and heels gigs pay her bills, improvised music nourishes her heart. And if sounds raw enough to scrape the roof of the world nourish yours, this album is new food. The premise of Veiled is finding veins of concealed beauty concealed, and that search impels Mattrey to tune her viola to sound like a horse-haired Tuvan fiddle, clamp objects to the strings and blast her signal through some satisfyingly filthy amplification. And whether it’s a slender tune or a complex texture, the reward is always there.

Bill Meyer

  Angel Olsen — “Whole New Mess” single (Jagjaguwar)

Everyone processes a breakup differently (though, to be fair, that’s probably less true now than ever). For Angel Olsen in 2018, it meant retreating to The Unknown, a century-old church in Anacortes, Washington, that Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum and producer Nicholas Wilbur made into a recording studio. What ultimately came from those sessions was All Mirrors, but Whole New Mess is a chance to revisit that album (fully nine of these 11 songs are ones you’ve heard before; only the title-track and “Waving, Smiling” are new) in a more intimate framework — just Angel, a guitar, a mic and her reverberant heartache. The most cynical view to be taken here is that it’s a stopgap capitalizing on people’s vulnerability amid a pandemic quarantine, but it could also be a corrective for the bloat of All Mirrors, a record I listened to once and haven’t thought about since. Late Björkian excess doesn’t suit her nearly as well as the light touch delivered herein, and your interest will similarly hinge on how much Whole New Mess sounds like the old one.

Patrick Masterson   

 Ono — Red Summer (American Dreams)

Red Summer by ONO

Ono, the long-running noise-punk-poetry-protest project headed by P Michael Grego and travis, tackles the Red Summer of 1919, evoking the brutal race riots that erupted as soldiers returned from World War I. During that summer, conflicts raged from Chicago to the deep south, as white supremacists rioted against newly empowered returning Black veterans and an increased number of Black factory workers employed in America’s northern factories. Ono captures the violence—and its links to contemporary race-based conflicts—in an abstract and visionary style, with travis declaiming against an agitated froth of avant garde sound. “A Dream of Sodomy” lurches and rolls in funk-punk bravado, as travis declaims all the nightmarish scenarios that haunt his nocturnal hours, while “Coon” natters rhythmically across a fever-lit foundation of hand-drums, mosquito buzz and flute. “26 June 1919” wanders through a blasted, rioting landscape, sounds buzzing and pinging and roaring around travis’ fractured poetry. “White men, red men, Manchester town, send ‘em home, Oklahoma, send ‘em home, in a Black man house, send ‘em home, send ‘em home,” he chants, ominously, vertiginously. The center isn’t holding, for sure. The disc closes with the uneasy truce of “Sycamore Trees,” where steam blasts of synthesizer sound rush up and around travis’ vibrating, basso verses about meeting under the sycamore trees, a metaphor like the blues and gospel and nearly all Black music is full of metaphor about reuniting in a better place. Powerful.

Jennifer Kelly

 Julian Taylor — The Ridge (Howling Turtle, Inc.)

Singer-songwriter Julian Taylor does the little things well. That's not to say that he doesn't do the obvious things well, too, on his latest release The Ridge. His easy voice fits his songs, letting autobiography come with comfortable phrasing. As a writer, he tends toward the straightforward, avoiding extended metaphors or oblique references. The title track considers a particular form of life, and Taylor sticks to the tangible, singing about the stable, “Shovel manure, clean their beds, and prepare the feed for the day.” Taylor's songs make sense of the immediate world and relationships around him, but they avoid woolgathering. The album feels a bit removed from the current climate, but that's no complaint when Taylor's developed a welcoming place to visit. It isn't always easy here, but it's always companionable.

But back to those little things. Each song has carefully detailed orchestration and production. The record goes down easy whether tending toward James Taylor, Cat Stevens or something closer to country, and much of that easiness comes from the precise placement of every note. Burke Carroll's pedal steel, for instance, never exists for its own sake, but to serve the lyric that Taylor sings. The album contains enough space to feel like a rural Canadian ridge, with details drawn into to support Taylor's direct stories. The Ridge could easily go unnoticed (unobtrusiveness not being a highly rewarded trait), but its subtlety and care make it worth taking your boots off and sitting down for a minute.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Various Artists — For a Better Tomorrow (Garden Portal)

For A Better Tomorrow by Various Artists

Compilation albums loom large in the American Primitive Guitar realm. Takoma, Tompkins Square and Locust all had larger ambitions than merely offering a sampling of wares, and to them, Garden Portal says, “hold my beer. I’ve got some collecting and playing to do.” For A Better Tomorrow started out as a Bernie Sanders fundraising endeavor. But when Bernie bailed and COVID-19 came on the scene, Garden Portal pivoted to support Athens Mutual Aid Network, an umbrella organization that coordinates aid to the underserved in this trying time. But in addition to good works, there’s some good work going on here. Not all of it is guitar-centric, but even the tracks that aren’t are close enough to the strings and heart template of the aforementioned parties to merit consideration under the same rubric. Joseph Allred’s been ultra-productive recently, so it’s actually helpful to be reminded of the spirit that infuses his playing by listening to it one track at a time. Rob Noyes’ “Diminished” takes the listener on a deep dive into the construction of sentiment and sound. And Will Csorba’s Pelt-like blast of fiddle drone, “Requiem for Ociel Guadalupe Martinez,” will put your hair up high enough to make that self-inflicted quarantine do a bit easier to execute.

Bill Meyer

  Various Artists — The Storehouse Presents (The Storehouse)

The Storehouse Presents by The Storehouse

The coronavirus pandemic put the brakes on many things. You doubtless have your own list of loss, but for the proprietors of The Storehouse, the catalog of things kissed goodbye directly corresponds to their endeavor’s inventory of reasons to be. Over the past few years, the Storehouse has invited audiences out to a West Michigan farmhouse to enjoy a potluck meal and a concert played by some musicians of note. If there had been no lockdown, listeners could have enjoyed the Sun Ra Arkestra last April. Instead, no one’s playing, and no one’s getting paid, so the Storehouse has compiled this set of live and exclusive studio tracks to sell on Bandcamp in order to benefit the musicians and the Music Maker Relief Foundation. The cause, is good, but so are the tunes. Want to hear Steve Gunn and William Tyler in sympathetic orbit? Or Joan Shelley pledging her love? Or the first hints of Mind Over Mirrors’ new direction? Step right this way, preferably on one of 2020’s first Fridays.

Bill Meyer

 Z-Ro — Rohammad Ali (1 Deep Entertainment / Empire)

On one of his previous tracks, Z-Ro admitted that he’s basically just writing the same song over and over again (that’s how meta he is now, writing songs on writing songs). While he exaggerated a bit, he was not that far from the truth. In the last half dozen years he’s been writing the same three or four songs in various combinations, reconfigurations and forms. Rohammad Ali follows the same template: haters hate him, but he’s OK and is counting his money. Multiply this by 17, and here is the album. Despite this self-cannibalizing (lots of poets did that), Z-Ro with every new album sounds fresh and far from tired. The self-repeats just fuel him. Rohammad Ali has only one rap guest, and it’s Shaquille O’Neal whose rap career didn’t jump off in the 1990s. A lack of guests only proves that Z-Ro can self-sustain without support from the outside. The only thing from the outside he needs is hate.

Ray Garraty

[unexploredcast]

BEHIND THE SCREEN: GM Prep for Deliverance, OH (Mystery 1)

Thank you so much to everyone who left a review of our show in February! I’m so excited to be able to share my GM notes and a little bit about how I prep for our sessions with all of you, which are contained in quite a long post beow, and I’m more than happy to answer any questions that come up, so send them my way and I’ll get to them as soon as I can!

Fair warning: this post contains spoilers for... the entire first eight episodes of Deliverance, OH, quite literally, so if you haven’t finished listening to the first arc, it’d serve you best to listen to episodes 00-08 before reading my notes. I don’t think there will be any other spoilers for future episodes, but if there are I’ll be sure to mark them with plenty of space for you to stop or skip reading them.

Thanks again for your support, and enjoy this little walk through my brain on Monster of the Week! 

-Christine

ORGANIZATION

I do the majority of my GM prep for this game in one big google doc I call “Session Outlines” which I store in a folder that has all of my worldbuilding notes, monster ideas, intro scripts, alternate playbooks, etc. I like having everything in one place so I can cross-reference with old arc while I work and on the fly, and this is as close to organized as I get.

The “Session Outlines” document’s got a handy table of contents with links that I can follow to quickly get where I need -- the breakdown is based on the Mystery prep system that Monster of the Week gives, so each arc has it’s concept, hook, monster, minions, bystanders, locations, and countdown. I’m going to go through each of those, but this is what the outline/table of contents looks like on the first page of my doc:

As you can see, I give each arc a catchy, stupid name that no one else ever sees, just to entertain myself. 

Also in this doc, right at the end, I have the countdowns for various long-term arcs so that I can reference them when those intersect with things happening in smaller mysteries:

I’ll get a little deeper into countdowns further on in the post for anyone who hasn’t run Monster of the Week before, because they’re my absolute favorite part of prepping for this game. 

PRE-MYSTERY PREP

Now, the first mystery in Deliverance was the first time I’d ever run Monster of the Week, so there are some aspects of prep that I’ve altered a little as I’ve learned more, but let’s just go through each page of my original notes from that arc.

The first page of my notes is always where I put the high-level thematic stuff that I want going on. The Concept for the arc -- in this case, a complicated question of morality, responsibility, and control that comes up when you find out that the monster that’s killing people is just a kid that doesn’t really know any better. I knew that with this arc I wanted to immediately set up the season with the question of: can we say that a monster is intrinsically evil, and if they are not, how does that effect our moral responsibility in re: trying to stop/hunt them? 

Some of that came from my own agenda coming into the game, and some of that came from our episode 0, with Andrew flagging an interest in this strict anti-monster sect with rigid morals and absolute obedience, and also with Roman flagging an interesting in the nature and morality of monstrosity by choosing the Monstrous playbook. I figured a question like this would instantly give them both a strong agenda, and build an interesting tension between two of the four main characters if I could get them to butt heads about it.

The hook is pretty straightforward: what direct action or effect of the monster’s presence are they going to notice first, what’s our “opening shot” so to speak. I’ve been reading the essay collection Dead Girls by Alice Bolin lately and feeling guilty about having killed Delaney off before she was ever even on screen, but at the time I chose what felt like a trope-y establishing shot for the season so that it would become very quickly apparent where I was attempting to turn certain other tropes on their head. Anyway, someday we’ll be returning to Deliverance again and all I can say is that we may or may not have seen the last of Delaney Chapman... but that’s all stuff for later. 

I also always put Chase’s start of mystery move on the first page of each mystery’s notes for a few reasons -- mostly so I don’t forget to ask him to roll it, but also because his result will, in part, develop the tone that mystery’s going to have. If he rolls a 10, this is going to be a mystery where the Kindred is working closely to solve the same problem, but if he rolls a 9 or below, the group is going to be more splintered, he’ll have fewer resources on hand, and on a 6 or below, they’re going to be actively obstructing him in some way. In play, I bold the result he rolls on this page so that I don’t forget, weeks and weeks later when we’re recording the third session in the mystery, what it was that he rolled, and so I can look back later and remember the progression of his relationship with the sect. 

Anyway, after all of that’s set in place, I move on to firming up the details of the monster -- powers, attacks, weaknesses, all of that good stuff. Most important is the MONSTER TYPE, which is one of my favorite things about Monster of the Week.

For anyone who hasn’t taken a look at the Keeper preparation sheets for Monster of the Week ( HERE! ) I’ll put in a screenshot of what I’m talking about so that it makes sense.

The first thing I do in creating each monster is pick its type/motivation. Some of them are really obvious, but sometimes having the opportunity to pick an unexpected or non-traditional motivation for a traditional monsters is even better. I’ll elaborate more on that some day when I do one of these posts for a later mystery, because Clara is pretty straightforward in terms of monster type. Here are her full stats:

Now-- I’ll admit, at the end of the day Clara maybe wasn’t the monster in this arc. I went back and forth a lot on how to frame this arc in terms of monsters and minions, because the crew was never actually meant to fight or kill this kid. But, again, I was so interested in setting them up immediately against someone that made them question their internal concept of “monster” that I went with it. She was for me, ultimately, the central focus of the arc: the cause of the conflict, the motivation for the other involved characters, etc., even if she didn’t end up being the climactic conflict of the whole arc. 

Clara didn’t appear on screen nearly as much as I expected her to: I’m not sure I ever got as far as her physical description as written here. I picked her type as BEAST because, in her uncontrollable werewolf form, that was what she would do -- so if they hurt her, and she transformed in response to that injury, that was what she’d do.

I also write this neat custom move for werewolf bites, but then none of the PCs got bitten by anyone. Still, I stand by the possibility of time-pressure and tension inherent in that 7-9 option.

As for weaknesses, my understanding of the werewolf healing process changed a little bit in play as I started to describe it happening to Evelyn, so between sessions I crossed out the original idea. I honestly have no idea, in retrospect, where I was going with the second bullet point, but thus is the fun of digital ephemera, it still lives in this google doc even though I have clearly ignored it for the rest of forever.

That link about mercury, for the record, goes to an instructables page I found for “how to kill a werewolf” -- Andrew still gets mad at me that “quick silver” not being literal is the reason he has to clarify whether anything I say is a metaphor or literal, but I thought it was way more interesting than Chase’s already having the perfect weapon (his silver knife) on hand. 

Minions are up next:

As you can see, most of the heavy lifting here was in picking their Bystander Types since all three of them were werewolves with basically the same ability. I even copy and pasted from Clara to the point where I forgot to change the pronouns in Henry’s “supernatural powers” section. You can also see the little copy-and-paste checkboxes I use to represent harm on Henry’s stats -- there was so much happening at the end of that battle that I never fully caught up with filling those checkboxes in, and I think I also had them in my paper notes (which we’ll talk about later in this post). 

The big motivation here was to differentiate Evelyn and Henry as two sides of the coin: both doing “bad” things to protect their sister, but going about them in different ways, with Evelyn -- who has an investment in this town, a life here she needs to protect in addition to protecting her sister -- being subtle, less destructive, really focused on protecting more than on doing whatever it takes, where Henry -- who has just moved back, and has no attachment to Deliverance itself except his family -- was going to do anything it took to get people off Clara’s scent, killing anyone who got suspicious.

You can see that I’ve face-cast Evelyn, here -- I do this for maybe 25-30% of the NPCs I make for this show, either ones I think are going to be particularly important or ones where an image of them just immediately comes to mind. In addition to Evelyn, I think I have actors in mind for Damaris, Van, Larkin, Blanche... Maybe that’s it? I also originally had one for Remedy (blonde Zoe Kravitz) but some incredible fanart has swayed me to having at least 3 different mental images of Remedy. 

I should note that my actual writing process for these notes is not in the order they appear in the doc: at this point, I usually try to at least sketch out the countdown because I’m in the mindset of thinking about the monster and what they’re going to do -- and then I fill in the bystander and location details to suit the countdown, making any adjustments to the countdown that I need to to accommodate new ideas. 

But, in my notes Bystanders and Locations are next, so: 

First thing of note: somehow, Sheriff Commander-Jones’ wife, the medical examiner, never made an appearance. She is just chilling in the background of this show, waiting for someone to need to talk to a coroner at the morgue, happily married to a very overwhelmed Sheriff. There are a ton of details here that never came up, and one of the things I learned from this first mystery is that I’d over-prepped the hell out of it. My bystander notes these days are a lot simpler: name, pronouns, age, brief physical description, type/motivation, and a one-word trait usually is about it. 

(Melissa was going to be so good, I’m still so sad I’ve not found another way to bring her into things. Maybe someday...)

You can also see here the common symptom where I leave something (Yasumoto’s trait) blank to come back to and then instantly forget about it and it just stays blank forever. Also, I don’t know why the hell I wrote “charming” in Jason’s description. He was never truly meant to be charming. 

I keep the little Keeper list of bystander types/motivations in the doc below all of my pre-made Bystanders in case I need to come up with some on the fly, but more often or not I forget to write them into the notes. Evidence: Remedy is missing from this document after I made her up on the fly when Chase needed healing. 

Locations are notoriously my least favorite part of prepping. I’m not good at coming up with interesting locations so I struggle through outlining the important places. I spent a lot more time on it with this arc than I do later on in the show, but my go-to is a few keywords describing the feeling/appearance of the place, and what information they might come across there. 

After that, we get to my favorite part of designing a mystery: the Countdown. 

For those who haven’t read or run Monster of the Week, the Countdown basically represents the steps of what the monster would do if the hunters didn’t interfere, and it gives a sense of direction as to how things will progress. It’s broken up into 6 steps, and the story can move from step to step when the heroes take too long or fail rolls, etc. Here’s my countdown for the first mystery: 

This one was super concrete compared to some of the ones I’ve written. A recent countdown ended “And then the world ends” or something like that, so this one was a nice, concentrated countdown for a first foray into the game. 

I italicize countdown lines in my notes as they happen in play: when people stall for too long early on, or when they fail and I get to make an off-screen hard move. I think the shadows line here was activated when they took the time to take Chase back to the farmhouse to get healed, which meant they wouldn’t be able to find the information I had for them in the morgue. The rest of the countdown was altered by their decision to go after Evelyn -- because Evelyn couldn’t go after Damaris, Henry did, and thus didn’t go after the police.

I hang out on the Countdown page while we play, until I need to reference something else: it gives me a broad overview of where things are going to go, so switching back and forth between that and the list of Keeper moves on the Keeper reference sheet helps me improvise my responses to failed rolls and decide what’s going to happen as the characters go to specific place. I like keeping this focused outline of what the monster is trying to accomplish in the front of my brain at all times, because it makes it easier to decide what conflicts might arise and what threats are out and about. 

The last section I prepare before we start the first session for the mystery is a broad mystery information section, which isn’t necessarily in the outline of Keeper prep that Monster of the Week provides. For some mysteries I use this a lot, for others it’s just a line or to, but it’s my catch-all space for any information I can’t fit anywhere else but think I might need. 

In this case, it was both notes about werewolf transformations and also a sort of CSI-esque explanation of what had actually happened with Delaney and Jason the night before:

Again, most of this information didn’t get used -- and I’ve sense balanced out my over-prepping problem, but I almost always have something I want to remember that doesn’t fit in any of the other prep, so that’s what this section is for. 

I think the biggest thing to note here is that a lot of this information is in flux: I’m always playing with what things will work, what things won’t, what will make for interesting decisions based on what the PCs are doing, and adjusting my information and planning from there. Less kill your darlings and more let go of cool ideas when better ones come up, but it’s all about being able to adapt on my feet when things aren’t going to plan. I try really hard not to imagine the full arc of the story and how I think it might go, because when I do they inevitably go in the opposite direction. My focus is more cementing the ideas and themes and questions I’m interested in so that I can find ways for those to come up no matter what the players decide to do. 

Now, that’s all the prep that I do before the first session. But most of our mysteries for Deliverance take 3-4 recording sessions, so what do I do during and between?

DURING AND BETWEEN SESSIONS

During sessions, I tend to make notes on paper because it makes less noise while other people are talking than typing does (I am, as anyone will tell you, a notoriously loud typist), so write some brief notes from the session on a page for that session, and then another page of notes of whatever I’ve scrawled down immediately after we finish recording where I make note of where I want the next recording to begin -- what hooks there are for each character/group of characters, what needs to be addressed, what they’ve been in the middle of, etc. 

I dug through the pile of papers I brought back with me when I moved back to the US this summer to find my scratch page notes for the first mystery (recorded August-October 2017), which are below -- a few handwritten, and one pre-game section that I decided to type because, if I remember correctly, I was making these notes during a lecture because I had procrastinated until the last minute. Major apologies for my oft-indecipherable handwriting; I’d translate, but most of the time I, too, have no idea what it says. 

This one below was my post-session 1 notes, along with my general on-hand notes during the recording of the first mystery -- I’ve got harm checkboxes, Andrew’s description of the farmhouse for reference (which, admittedly, I have not looked at again until just now), and then some notes about where people are headed and what they’ve encountered and/or promised.

Looking back at those harm checkboxes, I think I nerfed Henry’s harm-count because I was pretty sure I was going to kill Chase if I didn’t. I was very much still getting the hang of how much harm monsters can do vs. how much harm hunters can do.

No, I don’t know what those numbers on the top are. I want to say that was Jason’s iPhone password?

This one above is pretty typical for what my pre-session notes look like in the middle of a mystery -- each character or character group and then a quick note about where they are/what they’re going to be doing. This looks the most like the notes I take these days, now that I’ve been playing the game for a lot longer. They’re fairly sparse! Basically enough to give me an opening introduction as we start recording and then ask “what do you do?” and go off of whatever their answer to that is. 

Another important note: much of this NEVER HAPPENS. “storm begins, takes them back to the station” who????? The quickest lesson I learned with this game is to not hold on to anything too tight because better things come up so quickly that you can’t afford to hesitate before abandoning ship and jumping to them.

As you can see, sometimes these notes are a “here’s what happened” or “here’s a thing you need to remember” note, sometimes they’re a “this is an interesting place to start” note, and sometimes they’re a “how the fuck am I going to get them back on track” note. Usually, I’d say, it’s that last one, with this particular group of characters. QUESTIONS are huge, in these notes -- “Where are you going now that Zeke’s kicked you out of the farmhouse?” is, I would say, the ideal kind of note for me to start off a session with. 

Anyway, all that to say: for me, the real work of Monster of the Week is asking the right questions. Having a monster is important and having some idea of setting and bystanders is important, but if I had ten minutes to prep a Monster of the Week mystery, I would have: monster, countdown, and a strong hook, and I could probably improvise it all from there. 

[cryinglittlepeople]

You mentioned once that you think Rose is quite close to becoming antitribu! Can we get more deets on that and maybe some ideas of stuff that could push him to make the switch?

(I’m so happy you remember that!)

Alright so, the interesting thing about the difference between a clan, and a clan “antitribu” is actually not that large, it’s a philosophy, a state of being more than anything. Every single Kindred has the potential to be antitribu, if they want to be. (The line between general Malkavians and Malkavian antitribu especially is so thin it’s barely even there.)

That philosophy is the philosophy of the Sabbat. The philosophy of violence to an obscene level, and giving in to not only your personal base desires, but the desires particular to your clan.

The Toreador, the clan Rose is a part of, are on a….let’s say unstable…ledge between politeness and debauchery to begin with (smart members in Kindred society have made the link between the Toreador and Malkavians pretty often themselves).

They are obsessed with art in every form, and with perfection, and pleasure, to a degree that it’s unhealthy. At best, a Toreador will be haughty and prissy, at worst they fall in love with a sunset and burn to death in trance.

The Toreador antitribu embrace the most vile depths of that obsession, and what is considered art.Most Toreador become antitribu because their particular obsession is blood, violence, destruction, pain, and torture. They see the art in it.They aren’t a torturer, they’re an “artist”, to a degree that they get sexual gratification from it.

Now if you consider what Rose is like in canon, you can see how he could be very close to being antitribu. When it comes to his art, in battle, he is a sadist. For Rose, killing by using his skills is an art form, and all the blood that comes with it.

To have Rose become antitribu, in my opinion, all that would need to happen is a certain event to have him switch side to the Sabbat.

And what makes most Kindred go to the Sabbat, besides just base blood lust?

Gehenna. The end of all Kindred. The Kindred apocalypse. Or rather, the threat of it.

The Sabbat is the only sect that actually believes in Gehenna, as seeing as in actual VtM lore, Gehenna becomes an actual possibility.

In the AU, Gin, being a Malkavian, is pretty much a prophet of Gehenna, especially after committing Diablerie of Aizen (killing and drinking all his blood, taking his powers). 

So talking to Gin and being confronted with Gehenna could absolutely be a large possibility for him to become antitribu.