#there were at least three drawn-out operas

[min-pathologica]

do y’all feel the room spin when there’s an nsfw scene in a movie like i don’t want 2 see that. this fucking loser is not going in for it. don’t “oh!” me marie antoifuckingnette this man is so losercore

[4pmbookstacks]

✩ You can't escape! (the Music of the Night) Tsukasa / reader ; Aname / reader; Kou / reader — home ; masterlist - previous chapter : next chapter

II . . . LITTLE LOTTIE, FRANCE AWAITS

The bustling city of Paris rolled by the carriage window, citizens, women, men, and children alike, walking down the stone sidewalks and carriages were being pulled on the cobbled streets. The architecture that built one aspect of French culture spiraled above me, small details that would be missed by the unwatchful eye sitting in wait as it composed a scene of beauty and passion; France, Paris!, it was all so intoxicating even from within the carriage, I couldn’t resist taking in a deep breath as the song of hooves clanking away on the street and laughter and chatter from the streets filtering into the carriage, continued on. “Don’t get used to it all yet, Lottie,” Kou would tease upon seeing my deep breath in and out, noticing as my relaxed and almost homey expression; One I frequently wore once I was able to assure myself that I was in France, and this wasn’t another daydream. “Oh hush, Kou! Let me soak it all in.” The grin stretched upon my face, “It’s going to be my new home for the season, after all! Well, that is, if I’m able to pass through auditions well enough that I can be a part of the ensemble.” There was always an itching feeling in the back of my head, a doubt that was too far of a leap; That I should have picked somewhere else in France to start, slowly building myself up until I was truly ready for the Lotus Populaire. But, then, there were also the years of courage I had built up from countless sessions in London, where I ran as lead in the Operas there! So surely, this shouldn’t be so different.

Kou would let out a snicker-like-huff at my words, “I know, but just remember what we’re here for. . .an audition-” “-an audition, which I’m sure you will ace,” The words came out slightly mocking towards Kou, though all was meant in good fun, as he seemed fairly unamused that I spoke alongside him; seeming to know what he was going to say. “-which I’m sure you will ace!” He would finish abruptly, cutting me off and gaining a rather amused look. He would shake his head, “But we cannot forget that while beautiful, Paris can also be equally as dangerous! We’re going in and out, alright?-” Kou’s words would be interrupted once more during our trip as a melodramatic sigh was drawn out from my lips. There was a silence that followed after, at least, for a moment before Kou filled it. “For being brought up in wealth, you surely act like a commoner.” He would quip, watching as I took a playful, dramatic offense to his words. Like it had been a dagger in my heart, for he had insulted not only me yet my family and bloodline, including my dead relatives into the mix! Like it had been the most unproportional insult to the situation ever! Though then he would receive a scoff, “At least I’m not acting as a babysitter!” “At least I don’t need a babysitter-” “Kou Minamoto!”

“What? It’s true! What am I here for? Surely not just for moral support, you said it yourself!-” Kou rushed out, his hands gesturing out towards me before being held up as though a cop had found him guilty of a capital crime. “I’m here to act as a guard, babysitter, and moral support! With you? I have my hands completely filled playing those three roles and I don’t need for you to get injured or hurt or into some sort of trouble while we’re overseas!” While we’re overseas; He had a point, we were quite a bit away from home, and though we would have lavish accommodations during our three day stay, just long enough for the auditions and final casting, we were still not home. We were not with our families, in the safety and comfort of familiarity. Not even the Lotus Populaire was familiar to Kou nor I, as this would be both of our first instances seeing the new theater in all of its standing glory. And, throughout all of this, Kou was here to ensure I was both happy, suited, and safe. Even if he did call himself my babysitter, which was far from absurd because I simply did not need a babysitter at 21, almost 22! . . . He had a point.

And I would sink back against the seat, a defeated sigh leaving through my nose as Kou quirked a smile up at me. Carefully, he would rise from his seat parallel to mine and plop himself down next to me, drawing his arm over my shoulder and bringing me in close; A comforting side hug, his odd specialties, especially in a carriage ride. “Let me hear your wisdom today, grandfather.” I would tease before Kou even got a chance to speak. There was a roll of his eyes as his hand rubbed against my arm, both a playful warning to watch my wording and a comforting sensation that he was here; That while we were away from familiarity and home, he will do his best to fill such voids and gaps. “Maybe, I’ll let you have a little fun.” Kou started, peaking my attention, “A night in Paris, we can try that restaurant that you always wanted after your auditions tomorrow.” He would offer as the carriage began to come to a slow halt, drawing out until the driver stopped it completely on the cobble streets. There was a moment of blissful silence between Kou and I, a small moment shared in the comfort of the privacy of the carriage. Where not much had to be said other than a small, “I would like that,” as the comfortable silence continued, with some sort of hesitation that lingered in the air. I would notice as Kou seemed to be debating something within his head, he always grew this slightly pensive look with frowned eyebrows and a slightly pouty lip; It was adorable.

“Come on, let’s get out of the stuffy carriage!” I would exclaim, breaking the silence after a long, needed moment, as I grabbed Kou’s hand all too suddenly for him. He would jerk at the motion, seemingly being brought out of his thoughts as I opened the carriage door and, carefully, rushed down the steps to Kou’s protest. Though I barely was listening, it was Paris! And all at once it felt like the homesickness washed away, even for a moment, as I stood in front of the familiar apartment that the Minamoto’s used when they would travel down during season. Kou seemed just as relieved to see the old, but luxurious building as I was, as he parted to go pay the carriage driver and to handle one bag we each brought, full of belongings. It had been a while since Kou and I had been able to visit the old Minamoto France apartment, for the family sparingly came to France anymore due to the old Opera House burning; And I’m convinced that his father believes that it’ll surely happen once more, and of course with the news of the mysterious chandelier–that had been remade countless of times from the Opera Populaire and not moved into the Lotus Populaire, hanging above the seating in the auditorium–falling a handful of times for seemingly no reason solidified such fears within him.

So the apartment sat untouched, saved for some maids that did a routine bi-weekly clean on the old girl, simply to keep out the rats or possible insects that would enjoy to claim an untouched lavish apartment; Dressed in silks and fine leather and even finer wood, all importanted from the best salesman around the globe to provide the utmost comfort on a trip away from home.

“Louise!” A smile beamed onto my face upon the door of the apartment opening. It stifled my giggle as I heard Kou, slightly, struggling with the baggage behind me.

Louise paused with a start, glancing over upon hearing the familiar yet aged voice of a girl she had known all too well. When her eyes rested on mine, a grin couldn’t help but form on her more wrinkled face before she left her post at the door, rushing over to press two greetings kissing upon my cheek. I would return in kind. Despite being Minamoto's French-hired maid, Louise was nothing short of a miracle worker! Though by her appearance, I was sure not many would realize as such; For she was definitely on her aging years, where everything was slowly starting to take a toll on her yet she couldn’t bother to let such ‘absurdities’ – in her own words – show! She was a paler woman, who leaned upon the shorter side as well, who worked in the same clothes she had when she started, though you were sure she cleaned them well, with her hair graying caramel tied up in a tight bun. Yet, no matter her age, her eyes were as motherly as they always had been from the day I met her. “Ah, it has been simply too long!” Louise would grin, her more boney hands finding their way around my shoulder, “Come! Come inside! Mrs. Minamoto already let me know of Kou’s and your arrival! Everything has been prepared, no need to stress. I’m sure you had enough of that during your travels.” Her voice came off soothing, eager and chipper, as she led me into the living room of the flat, motioning for me to sit down on the couches. As I would do so, happily chatting to Louise about our journey from the little old Kingdom to France, Kou would stumble into the flat carrying two bags with a huff. The sound of the carriage’s horse trotting off could be heard through the door, yet you paid it no mind, as Kou would try to heavy the bags once more. . . despite his previous struggles. Louise was quick to notice, and quick to have nothing of the sorts happening under this roof, “Ah, ah! Little Viscount, put those bags down.” She would scold, “You’ve had a long journey yourself, the luggage can be carried by another.” “Louise,” Kou let out an airy laugh as she rushed over to him, ushering the bags to be placed by a wave of her hand. Kou, defeated and not wanting to hurt the old maid, placed the baggage down on the floor with a small, yet charming, smile. “We don’t have anyone else to carry the baggage up, it’s completely alright. I can do it, no need for you too–”

“Oh no need for that! Your father has hired a new assistant, due to my ‘old age’ he says. I told him it was simply unneeded yet he insisted,” There was a playful frown that twinged on Louise’s lips as she spoke about the new assistant, or maybe her aging. I was sure it was a combination of both as she waved Kou to sit on the couches and make himself comfortable, all the while claiming she would go find the new butler. “Well,” Kou started as he stifled back a chuckle, walking around the couches and over to me. He would plop down on the couch, rather dramatically in my opinion, as his arms sprung out on the backside of the couch and his legs extended forward. “I’m glad to know Ms. Louise is as living as ever.” Kou would only receive a head shake in return, his foolishness sparingly getting a remark from me; As instead, I decided to take in the new furnishings of the apartment, as it had changed from my last visit. No longer was everything draped in pretty blues that compliment one another, yet instead had shifted to more browns mixed with maroon. It created a homey feeling, for sure, and no longer stuck out as strange to passersby on the street, who just so happen to peek inside. The living room in particular changed more, as the velvet deep navy couches no longer sat parallel to each other with a oak coffee table in between, yet was now replaced with  two maroon red couches shaped like an L, both plush and wrapped in silk, with a small table between them and a matching wool carpet below them. It was a large change from the usual cooling blue tones to now a soothing, yet striking, maroon and spruce; Though it was somehow comforting, almost as though the room and furniture was enclosing to give me a great big, warming, hug after such a long journey–which was enhanced more by the warm orange and pinks hues that filtered in through windows thanks to setting sun. I wouldn’t notice how my muscles would relax against the softer couches, how I had slumped a little, or how my eyelids began to droop ever so slightly.

Yet, Kou noticed and alerted me, gently, to the problem as soon as it came to his attention with a gentle nudge. I had possibly already dozed off, having been awoken to his soft voice, “Maybe you should head to bed,” was his warming suggestion to my cold reply of a head shake. It would be improper to leave before meeting the new assistant that had been hired, furthermore to leave Kou by himself on the first night of Paris when we already have plans made! “Lottie,” Though his sterner voice would seep through, mimicking that of his brothers, as he rose to his feet. His hands grabbed ahold of and intertwined with my own, slowly and carefully dragging me upon my suddenly aching feet. “It was a good few hours from the steamer boat to the carriage ride, and frankly I feel the  fatigue nipping away at myself. We’ll push our plans back until tomorrow, you may simply just head to bed and I’ll stay to meet the new Butler.” There was a protest that dared to fall from my lips, though Kou was quick to hush the concerns, especially since he practically left me with no choice. He was stubborn, much so like his elder brother, and I was sure he would not quit until I was tucked into bed. So there was reluctant agreement on my part to his whole ordeal. “Good, thank you, now to bed.” There was a sly hint of concern that filtered through Kou’s words as he gave my hands one final squeeze, before the teasing followed, “I assure you the layout of the flat has not changed.”

He would only get sarcasm in return, “Very funny Kou.” Though I wouldn’t stay around longer than that, as I parted our hands every so slowly before turning sluggishly and exited the living room, walking down the hallways to Kou shouting something along the lines of ‘good night!’ which I would mimic. My hand would rise to slide along the walls of the apartment, feeling the textured walls made out of the smooth wallpaper that I was too tired to pay attention to, run across my fingers as I walked up the hard wooden stairs. They still creaked, even if just a little in my imagination, as I walked up to them as they had done all the years ago. Then down the hallway upstairs to a room nuzzled in the far end of the hall, on the left, near the window that peaked out onto the Paris streets, I would find my room–or more promptly the guest bedroom that I had claimed my own, due to my constant visitation–and would open the door with a familiar swing. Slugging off my shoes, leaving them by the door, I found myself by the mirror that laid by my bed, though not facing it. Without much care, feeling the drowsing hands of sleep caressing my body, I would work on the layers of my clothing, dropping each one until I was suitable enough for bed; Most likely my under clothes that poor Louise would iron out later with a fuss, as a proper citizen would not sleep in such conditions! Though, that would be a problem she would have to fuss about tomorrow, as I would climb into the plush bed and snuggle my way under the blankets. It all felt heavier, comforter, softer than I remembered them being and the question of if the Minamoto family had changed the bedrooms too crossed my mind. It didn’t get to linger long once my eyes fluttered closed, as the sweet release of sleep washed over my clouded mind. It would simply have to be a question for tomorrow.

— home ; masterlist ; next chapter

© 4pmbookstacks, teeful-corner, March 2024. do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or copy my works without permission asked beforehand.

[anamelessfool]

Valise (AO3)

From my "Domestics" Ficlet Series

GEN Young Secondo (b. 1961) (1969)

(Illustration by Me...Yes, he is supposed to look like Damien from the Omen)

8 year old Secondo is a touring piano prodigy, and his mother supports him every step of the way. An unexpected visitor arrives at the Ministry HQ.

Tags: domestic fluff, Secondo the child prodigy, mother and son relationship, this is why he is so intense, Enjoy my Google Translate Italian, Maybe I should send this to my Therapist, Sorta Sad Fluff Because That's My Brand

First and foremost dedicated to @fishwithtitz once more for asking me about Secondo after reading my Kid Primo stuff.

Ficlet below the cut!

1969

She was always there. Sister Rebecca. His mother. Secondo stole a glance across the top of the piano to the velvety darkness of stage right. He could tell she was there by the soft gleam of her perfectly round glasses. Secondo gave a nod, then refocused himself on the piano keys before him.

This tour season she had planned for him a program highlighting the greats of Chopin’s work He had grown quite a bit since his debut at six, and so he was able to reach more keys with greater accuracy. The theater was packed, the audience on the edge of their seats astounded at how such a young mind could comprehend the complexities of piano performance. He was on tempo and accurate—but then again any trained monkey could be that with enough practice. They were drawn to his surprising sensitivity on the keys, his understanding of drama and atmosphere that went way beyond his years.

Secondo didn't care whether he played in the common room of the Ministry or a packed orpheum in New York City, in both places his brain worked the same. His fingers moved and the sound fell out, a puzzle to massage his brooding mind. They were the soundtrack of the visions he had in his imagination brought on by all the paperbacks he read in the Ministry limousine as he toured up and down New England.

A leviathan of cosmic horror, its impossibly great head rising from the sea.

Moriarty and Sherlock, entangled as they plunged headfirst down the falls.

A corpse’s heart, beating under the floor in defiance of its murderer.

Rough beasts, their hour come at last, slouching towards Bethlehem.

He finished the piece with a flourish, bowing solemnly. His mother was always the first one to applaud.

When they traveled, which was often, she insisted they stay at the finest rooms in the finest hotels. Her businesslike, steely expression was usually enough to ensure their stay there was one of ease and opulence, and she tipped everyone handsomely besides. “Yes, and the room needs to have a phone. It is essential.”

“There is a time to perform and a time to rest,” she told her son once. “Commit to each season fully.”

Except it seemed like she never truly rested. The Personal Assistant to Mother Imperator rarely does. They would have a meal in the hotel suite, or go to a play or opera performance in each city they visited, but she was always peering into her datebook or calling the Ministry in the theater phonebooth during intermissions. Secondo would hold her drink while she made plans and kept appointments across the world.

Back at the hotel, the calls and note taking would continue, this time on the elegant historical phone of the penthouse, at least until she felt everything was laid out well enough before going to bed.

“No, it's not possible, but you have to make it work.” Click. Her datebook would snap open, and she'd dial the rotary phone again for another check in. Whirrrr, whirrr, whirrr.

“Nihil will be on tour the fifteenth through the second. Yes, the venues are all approved.” Click. Snap. Whirrr, whirr, whirrr.

Then she would pull out an array of languages. A full half hour conversation in Italian. Three requests in Portuguese, a demand in Spanish from another caller across the world. A stilted yet firm discussion in broken German (she struggled with that one, but it was on her list).

Secondo, still warm from his bath, would close his eyes in the other bed. There was the soft murmuring of phone call after phone call. The efficient scratching of a fountain pen. The impatient tapping of her fingernails across the desk. She would turn to check on him and through his eyelashes he saw once more the gleam of her spectacles, the white gold glitter of the smart brooch at her throat. He started to drift off to sleep to the quiet efficient sounds of his mother at work.

“Yes, I'm away now. Our tour is going well. My son and I are having a lovely time. Yes, he is doing so well. Talented through and through.”

***

“And what brooch shall I wear today, boy?” She would ask him each day, after putting up her hair and putting away her ivory combs. Secondo would peer across the open jewelry case, the finery enclosed and separated with black velvet dividers, a stable of jewels. He would pick one and hand it to her. She never refused his selection.

“How is my watch today, boy?” Would be the next thing she would ask about. Secondo would already be prepared with it. It was a thin ladies wristwatch over forty years old and still pristine. It was a big moment for him when he was allowed to take care of it. He would make sure it was wound each day, opening the back to see the small gears whirring smoothly like the action of a song bird's heart. He would polish the white gold surface, check the fittings on the square cut sapphires. Under his care he wanted it to run for another four hundred years.

“We are going back home today,” she said. “The tour is over. The car is picking us up at the front in an hour. Is everything accounted for, boy?”

Secondo inspected the entire jewelry case, making sure all was there. He even considered the secret panel underneath, where a few hundred dollar bills were stored. He nodded solemnly, the most dutiful little butler she'd ever employed.

Secondo was the only one allowed to carry her travel case of jewelry. It was a small valise of ostrich leather with engraved brass to protect the corners. He was the only other one who knew the combination. When they traveled he never let his hand leave the handle. He had once seen a spy movie where a man had a handcuff and chain attached to a secret spy suitcase, and that really stirred his imagination.

I'm going to protect these, Secondo would think, and the idea of fighting off bandits and thieves with his teeth and fists would send a thrill through his little body. I'm going to defend these with my life.

***

Secondo stared out the window of the Ministry limousine, watching the ascent of the car into the canopy of old growth as they returned home. When there was nothing to say he and his mother Rebecca chose to say nothing. They sat in a silence that was comfortable to them, the soft scratching of her pen in her little datebook lulling him into calm.

Rebecca closed the book with a business-like click, elegantly stowing it in her coat breast pocket. Secondo watched the little flash of red shagreen vanish into the black wool.

“Boy.” Rebecca’s face showed nothing. She peered at him with a corvid intensity, then leaned forward, her strong nose mere inches from his face. An eyebrow twitched exactly once. “What do we have here?”

Second stared back with an equal level of stoicism, although there was the slight fluttering of anticipation behind his ribs. His mother reached out by the side of his head, feigning dramatic surprise. “Look!” She hissed. A wrapped caramel miraculously appeared from his ear, and she solemnly placed it in his hands. “Don't I tell you to wash your ears, boy?” She teased.

At that, Secondo smiled broadly, unwrapping and savoring the treat. Rebecca gave her son's knee a single pat. “Excellent work once again, my Secondo. I would not expect anything less.”

“Will we go again next year?” He asked.

“If you want,” she said.

“Europe?”

Rebecca frowned. “Not until you're older. These little tours are too much as it is on you. I know you enjoy the spotlight, boy, but you do have the rest of your life to stand under it.”

Secondo tightened his grip on the handle of her jewelry valise, glowering at the ridges of the leather seat across from him. “Why can't I be old enough right now?”

“Secondo—” and he snapped bolt upright, looking into her eyes. She used his name mostly when he was in trouble. She pulled off her glasses and began to clean them with a cloth from her jacket. The thick glasses concealed the tired wrinkles under her blue eyes. “Great men are good boys first. If you're going to be Papa Emeritus, you need to start now. And you are on the path. One step at a time.”

“But Nihil…” Secondo found it hard to understand how his proper mother ever spent a moment enjoying the presence of his freewheeling bohemian father. He suspected Rebecca felt the same.

Rebecca replaced her glasses. “I said that you are going to be a great man, Secondo.”

As the limo pulled into the circular driveway Secondo noticed two figures and some luggage standing under the front portico. Rebecca looked unusually puzzled as she helped her son out of the vehicle. One of the figures was a tall man in a very opulent fur-lined cape. He had the headwear and glittering grucifix that announced his station as a Cardinal, although he was not anyone Secondo had ever seen before. The second figure was much smaller and shyly stood behind the visitor. He was so small and hidden that Secondo assumed he was some sort of pet.

“Sister Rebecca, buon Giorno.” The Cardinal’s voice was merry, sing-songy. Foreign. “They had said you are one I will be needing a seeing, yes?” He bowed his great graying head. “I am Cardinal Raphael, sono di Milano.”

“Parlo fluentemente l'italiano, Excellenze,” said Rebecca. “How can I help you.”

Raphael’s shoulders lowered in a moment of relief. “Dov'è il Papa Emeritus questo pomeriggio? Sono qui per Sua Eccellenza.”

“è fuori. in questo momento è a San Francisco.”

“Ah, si, si…”

The two adults chattered on the step. Secondo held his mother’s hand as he observed the other visitor beside the Italian, who was slowly inching into view.

Holding onto the Cardinal’s belt end was a very small figure, bundled up. Above the mountain of his knit scarf and below the too-big beret, little cat-like eyes sparkled. It was a boy about half Secondo’s age, or younger. He had a cardboard suitcase on which a child drew a cartoon flower.

“Shall we go inside?” Rebecca finished the conversation. “You did not come all this way to stand on these steps. Come.”

A few moments later and Rebecca offered the visitors a seat at the sofa of a receiving room. She smiled as the adults settled in. Secondo took a seat in a nearby armchair, still holding the precious valise in his hand. The new boy struggled a bit with getting up onto the couch but sat there obediently, swinging his legs.

“Now,” Rebecca said, done with the pleasantries. “Why have you come all this way today, Cardinal.”

Cardinal Raphael swept out his hand. “Questo è il figlio di Papa Emeritus.” The little boy beside the cardinal blinked his eyes wide, checking in with his mentor. The Cardinal raised his bushy eyebrows, gesturing slightly with his hands. The boy screwed up his face in an attempt at nobility and bobbed his head slightly in a bow.

Rebecca’s mouth was now a thin line. “Oh? Is that so?”

“The em…his Eminence’s tour of Italy was er…in the 1964 and the 1965.”

“It most certainly was,” replied Rebecca. Her hand imperceptibly clenched the edge of her sofa chair. “I planned every last detail.”

“Perhaps not,” replied the Cardinal with a good natured chuckle, but upon seeing Rebecca’s icy expression he swallowed his own. Time crawled as she stared into him, tapping her fingers on her chair. If a sinkhole ripped open beneath the Cardinal's feet dropping him into the depths of the planet, he would thank Satan for the opportunity.

Rebecca solemnly pulled off her glasses and rested them on the side table. She arranged the datebook and fountain pen beside them, and rose to her feet. “Cardinale, mi scuso.”

She backed away elegantly, opening the parlor doors behind her and slipping inside. The Cardinal seemed to be a decently friendly man, since he attempted to break the tense silence by leaning over to address Secondo. “So eh, you….baseball?”

There was a shattering sound against a wall in the parlor. It sounded like a plate falling to pieces. Afterwards there came a great toppling noise of wood on wood, a pop and crack of carpentry destroyed under a foot. Then a wrathful scream was drowned out by the rushing, creaking crash of something large sliding to the floor. The tinkling of glass and a ceramic explosion suggested the victim to be an entire hutch of dinnerware.

The plates on the floor settled and Rebecca once more emerged, softly closing the door behind her and returning to her seat. Her face was as calm as it always was. She brought her items into her hands, writing something quickly in her book, then replacing in her jacket. “Secondo, I'm not sure if I want to buy your father a suitcase or a coffin.”

Cardinal Raphael shook his head and chuckled, but immediately recoiled once more at the glare thrown at him across the room.

The conversation became low, almost silent, the Cardinal gesturing with his hands as if he were a fencing opponent. He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to Rebecca, who snatched it from his hands and glared at the words.

Secondo observed the little boy who was smiling to himself and admiring the carved wood paneling in the opulent receiving room. The boy noticed Secondo and presented him with a friendly mischievous grin.

Secondo frowned suspiciously back. He pulled the jewelry valise even closer to his chest.

The hushed conversation continued around them. Secondo had no idea what they were saying, but he attempted to understand the small snippets he heard.

Ci siamo presi cura di loro... quattro anni... torre della cattedrale... suicidio... è solo…

“Fine,” Rebecca said, neatly folding the note. She glanced over to Secondo, then back to her guests. She pointed at the new boy. “Stai qui per favore.”

The cardinal patted his young ward to his feet.

Rebecca leaned forward, staring into the little boy standing in front of her. Light reflected across her perfectly round spectacles, concealing her eyes and transforming her into some sort of suspicious owl, an inhuman statue. “Sei un bravo maschietto? Sei un maschietto obbediente?”

The boy winced, perhaps confused by the question. He collected himself and nodded.

“Lavorerai?”

Again he flashed a small face of concern. But he gave her one last determined nod.

“Very well,” Rebecca sighed. She leaned back in the chair and removed her glasses. There were a few beats of silence, the nun gathering her thoughts and tidying her mind from the previous moment’s sudden earthquake. She gestured from her son to the little visitor. “Secondo, this…I suppose then that this is Terzo,” she said. “Your…half-brother.”

My AO3 | Tumblr Fic List | My Obsessive Ghost AU Series aka My Flavor of Insanity

Please comment and reblog! Thank you.

[ibrithir-was-here]

Phantom of the Opera Remake Dream

So I have no idea why I dreamed this. I haven't listened to Phantom lately at all, but-- last night, I dreamed that there had been a remake of the Phantom of the Opera musical as a big screen film attempt again.

In the dream reality this had come out a few years back and had done well overall, though there were controversies.

It was incredibly visually beautiful film. I remember feeling like it felt like a Guillermo del Toro fantasy sort of thing with a touch of Tarsem Sighn, really honing in on POTO as a modern-day fairytale horror movie and more focused on making an immersive dream like world than really being accurate periodwise.

The costumes were beautiful, especially in the Masquerade scene, where Christine and Raoul were actually wearing masks too for once. Think Labyrinth meets Eiko Ishioka. And there was a whole motif of White,Red, and Black going on through the three main characters where it symbolized how innocent or corrupt they were becoming as the horror of the Phantom's haunting went on. Christine starts out pure white for example and gradually gains other colors and the Phantom's only white was his mask, which was a literal false face.

The controveries had come in that several of seemingly set points of the musical had been reworked. From least to most controversial:

Christine in the movie was now book accurate blonde (I remember thinking she looked a little like Florence Pugh but not exactly).

Several scenes were added in to give Christine and Raoul more instances to bond and really create a deeper relationship, and Raoul was a much more active character now, he and Christine acting more as a team eventually

The Phantom's ghostly/otherworldiness was kept ambiguous much longer, so much so that the audience starts to wonder if maybe he really is some sort of vengeful spirit, not an angel but something unhuman, possibly even demonic. We know we should know he's just a man doing conjuring tricks but we're suddenly unsure.

Also his mask was now a full mask instead of a half one, sometimes even covering his mouth entirely, such as in the Masquerade scene were he's all in red except for a full black skull mask.

Also his face is never actually fully shown. We see people react to it, and glimpse warped reflections of it in water and cracked mirrors but never see the full thing (how they would have pulled off the final confrontation scene I have no idea)

And finally, most controversial amoung dream film critics though I'm sure it woupd have done numbers on Tumblr xD ---they made it a proper Love Triangle where the Phantom despite his jealousy and hatred of Raoul starts to be charmed by his devotion and innocence and Raoul despite his desire to protect Christine from this admittedly dangerous presence finds himself being drawn in just as she was.

The entire Past the Point of No Return song was reworked/restaged so now Raoul at one point sneaks on stage to aid Christine and he and the Phantom end up dueling and singing parts together, sometimes so close they're literally cheek to cheek.

I woke up at 5 to that image and frantically wrote it all down and made a pinterest mood board 😅 So definitely expect some art for this!

[adhoption]

The whole complaint about there being too many comic book movies is weird when you think of it as a medium rather than a genre - it's like complaining about there being too many novel adaptations, or films based on a true story.

Actually, come to think of it, it does feel like we've had enough films based on video games or musical biopics recently, but that just means that comic book adaptations are hardly the problem. It's all unoriginal, just chasing trends and following certain formulae, all latching onto recognisably IP and milking it until it curdles.

Relative to an industry dominated by films based on toys and household objects and spun off of TV series, even cannibalising other films into unwanted remakes and reboots and sequels and prequels, somebody adapting an actual story, with new characters, that has not been previously adapted to film, is like a breath of fresh air.

Within that medium, there can still be great diversity of genre. It used to be that we could distinguish between film noir and heist capers, between space operas and spy thrillers, but now if they were originally comic books it's all the same. It feels like lumping The Shawshank Redemption and IT together as 'Stephen King movies', or Twilight and The Godfather as 'novel movies'.

Yes, there are a lot of Marvel stories being produced all at once, but that's because they have half a century of content to catch up with, with thousands of comic editions to sift through and adapt. It's no different to what they'd do with anything else, and if anything I think they're being more discerning than the way they drag out some of their other source material.

You think they wouldn't have made 30 Harry Potter films if there were enough books? They added some extra ones as it was, and now they want to do a TV series. They turned a couple of Jurassic Park books into six films and counting. The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings became twenty hours and a TV series. If the Marvel canon offers a whole untapped universe of hundreds of characters to explore, what do you expect them to do?

'There are too many Marvel movies', sure, but there are too many everything movies. Every single smidgeon of IP will get exploited until all of the flavour runs out. This year alone we have John Wick 4, Rocky 9, Scream 6, Fast and the Furious 10, Evil Dead 5, Magic Mike 3, Transformers 7, Indiana Jones 5, Insidious 5, Mission Impossible 7, The Equaliser 3, The Expendables 4, The Exorcist 6, Saw 10, Trolls 3, Hunger Games 5, and Ghostbusters 5.

At the same time, we have films based on Super Mario Bros. and D&D and Gran Turismo and Five Nights at Freddy's and Teen Wolf and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Paw Patrol, biopics about George Foreman and the origins of Tetris and Air Jordans, remakes of Children of the Corn and The Colour Purple and White Men Can't Jump and Haunted Mansion, live action adaptations of The Little Mermaid and Peter Pan and a Willy Wonka prequel for some reason.

I feel exhausted just reading through that list. How many of those films were actually needed, or even wanted? How many are an obvious cash grab from a studio bereft of any original ideas, a forced extension of a franchise which should have been left to rest where it was? I don't understand all of the criticism focusing on the fact that there are three MCU films, when surely they are no more tired than any of the alternatives?

If you ignore the cross-over events, and look at Guardians of the Galaxy 3 or Ant-Man 3 as the conclusion of a self-contained trilogy, resolving various character arcs and introducing an engaging villain which an established history and background in the source material and an actual plotline planned out and executed, I don't know how you can say they aren't stories at least as worth telling as the umpteenth phoned-in sequel being drawn out of every popular film, with no plan other than to try to copy what was good in the original, to increasingly diminishing returns.

Next year we're going to get Planet of the Apes 4 (itself a reboot of a reboot), Godzilla/Kong 5 (itself the latest in a long line of reboots) Mad Max 5, Kung-Fu Panda 4, Transformers 8, Mission Impossible 8, Despicable Me/Minions 6, Sonic the Hedgehog 3, a musical biopic of Bob Marley, a live action remake of Snow White, another Garfield film, a prequel to the Lion King remake, and sequels to Dirty Dancing, Gladiator, and Beetlejuice.

I'm not looking forward to Thunderbolts, Captain America 4 or the Blade remake, but I don't think they're less original than almost any other film being released, and I don't understand why people are acting like Marvel are doing something particularly boring or cynical when they are still largely adapting original material and still have untapped stories to tell, which is more than can be said for most of these zombie franchises staggering on long after they should have ended.

[hrhmancns]

HSHQTASK035. TATTOOS

(this is quite long i apologize) 

Manon got her first tattoo the day after she quit the Paris Opera Ballet. Freshly eighteen and newly on her own, she chose a pair of hands reaching and only just touching inked under her left breast. The location was perhaps an attempt to scandalize, now that her body was wholly hers to mark and use and abuse as she pleased. The hands meant something more, she thought, the tentativeness of the touch appealed to her, almost managing to convey how she longed to be touched so much that she couldn’t bear the idea of it. Manon has not revealed the true meaning of this one to anyone, far too vulnerable. 

The feminine form on her right tricep was the result of her first night in New York. Sorrow, regret, anger, resentment, and whatever drugs blending into a heady, manic high - Manon and the artist created the design based upon several of Manon’s nudes she gladly shared as reference. Far more than a moment of vanity and impluse, the sloping delicate lines speak to feelings of beauty and control, just as fragile. 

There once was a little scorpion, grandmother starts, capturing the attention of not only her young grandchildren but the king and queen as well. Manon sits right at her grandmother’s knee, the queen mother’s hand petting dark curls. The little girl basked in the attention, Gwen and Arwyn looking on with what Manon hoped was jealousy, but was likely just interest. The little scorpion wanted to cross a stream, Grandmother continued, but since she could not swim, the stream might have been a mighty ocean. And so she bargained with a frog to ferry her across the water, for if she were to sting him in the middle, they would both perish. But, when they were midway across  - here grandmother’s hand paused, pulling away from Manon who looked up in surprise and hurt - the little scorpion stung the frog, dooming them both. Why, the frog asked, in those last few moments. I cannot help who I am, the little scorpion said. Manon could not remember if it was then that they took to calling her little scorpion, or if she’d imagined the whole thing. Spiteful and cruel, even when it was not in her best interest - the name fit. Years later she reclaimed this moment, etching the little scorpion on to the back of her neck. 

The girl in New York whom she might have loved had Manon not carved out her heart and left it on Hans’ bedside had a thing for tarot and impulsivity. It was halloween, before either of them knew they had less than a week left with each other. One of those specials known only to loyal customers, locals who’d venture to wherever this particular artist landed, unconcerned by dark alleyways and creaking stairs. The deal - pick a card, get a tattoo. Manon went first, vibrant and bold and absolutely running late for something else she’d promised to attend. Three of swords, drawn and inked with the proper reverence and a deep sense of foreboding, upon her sternum. Upright - separation, grief, sorrow, loss.  At the time she’d thought of Hans, and the heart she’d left in his possession. Manon cannot bring herself to consider it an omen, though it is her least favorite yet often most visible tattoo. 

The ivy around her left middle finger is the result of a lost bet, one she knew she’d likely lose upon making. Pride is a peculiar thing, especially amongst family. And it wasn’t in her nature to back down. Ivy grows over things long abandoned, and they’d bet Manon wouldn’t have anyone to marry by age twenty five. She’s come to love this tattoo, even though it is based on a lie. Peace wins out over pride, just this once, and she’d rather protect the memory of what she had more than she’d like to win. 

She’d met that girl in New York, that beautiful vibrant model, at the market - both of them admiring the peonies grown in some billionaire’s greenhouse. On the day she died, Manon was late. The princess had lied about some lunch meeting, and instead gone alone to a matinee of the New York City Ballet - she already felt so lost, why not carve away a bit more of herself at the altar of artistry and music? On the way back to that park side apartment, Manon stopped to buy peonies, an apology for her tardiness and perhaps the first time she’d considered apologizing to the model for something. It was too late. The peonies were the only thing she could hold onto in the rushed and frantic memories of the following weeks. As soon Manon could leave the castle she’d been dragged back to in Wales without raising too much alarm, she wandered into the nearest tattoo parlor and carved that memory into her arm. This is her newest tattoo. 

One more, not pictured. Back when things were good (she wasn’t all that good at keeping track of dates with him), but before it all ended in November 2020 - Manon and Hans chose tattoos for each other. It started, as most things did, with her own incessant boredom that tended to make itself very known when Hans was busy preparing for his teaching position. He loved his job, and Manon loved that for him - and yet still was the selfish, spiteful little scorpion. The game was they’d choose tattoos for each other. There were rules, of course, but she trusted him completely and he’d chosen far stranger things himself than she could ever imagine. She made Hans go first - producing a sketch of a sword stabbing through a sheet of paper to grace his forearm that she was rather proud of. A play on the old ‘the pen is mightier than the sword thing,’ Manon had offered, unable to voice what it actually meant to her for him to be this trusting and open. Hans chose a quote from one of his favorite books, which of course Manon had not yet read, but she insisted he write it in his own handwriting. “i’ll hold onto the world tight someday” in his careful, sloping script along the ribs under her right breast. She has yet to read the book it comes from, perhaps because she’d rather it belong to him.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 3

Ch.1   Ch.2

Summary: "it matches your eyes"

----

Cleaning Cassandra’s study became routine. Once a week, her chores were swapped for a two way -for now- trip to the dungeons. Despite every other maid looking at her with utter pity in their eyes, the redhead was not really complaining. She would take Cassandra’s mock autopsies and weird collection of specimens over dusting an ancient opera hall any day. It gave her an odd sense of nostalgia, almost as if she was back with her classmates studying forensic pathology and a friend threatening to throw a severed hand at her. 

She also got to see glimpses of Cassandra. Not that they talked, oh no, the brunette would simply observe her and come up with the occasional task to get a raise out of Nicole and, when it failed to do so, she would grumpily go back to whatever she was doing prior. Her study, however, was an open book. While cleaning the shelves by the desk, Nicole took her time to read the title on each and every worn spine of her books. A lot of them more or less outdated medical books, some relatively modern looking textbooks, even an occasional novel tucked in between its more science oriented siblings. The adjacent wall was full of what looked like hand drawn diagrams, messy notes pinned by tape or even sticky notes. Nicole even noticed a family photo taped to that same wall. It was black and white, with the castle’s courtyard in the background, the three sisters standing in front of their mother.

Cassandra was sitting in her chair, occupying herself with her sickle when all of a sudden she stilled. She pulled out her pocket watch, softly cursed under her breath and pushed herself out of the chair. She was about to exit the room when she probably realized that Nicole was not supposed to be there by herself. 

“Ugh...Follow me. I can’t leave you here alone and I need to get something.”

With the mop abandoned by a wall, Nicole followed the brunette’s hurried steps through the main hallways of the castle, occasionally crossing paths with another staff member. It took no more than five minutes to get to their destination. Bela and Daniela could be heard from inside a room near the castle’s main entrance when Cassandra pushed open its ornate door and stepped inside. Nicole took two steps behind her when a familiar voice called out.

“Ah, Nicole darling! I see you’ve settled in,” Duke said in his usual cheerful tone. 

It did little to stop her stomach from sinking a little when three sets of golden eyes snapped in her direction. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care when he went on. “I hope my favorite clients here are treating you well.” Oh god please shut up. “Lady Cassandra! Your package is also here.” 

She wordlessly took a wrapped box from him and, with a thanks, went out the door. Not wanting to fall behind, Nicole gave Duke a small wave and a smile before turning around to follow. She had to almost jog to keep up with her long strides. Damn you short legs. 

“How on earth do you know him?” Cassandra’s question was accompanied by narrowed eyes.

Was there any point in lying? Lady Dimitrescu already knew so her ever so nice middle daughter could always find out too. 

“He’s the one that brought me here.”

“From the village?”

Nicole rubbed her temples. “From a hotel bar in the nearest big city.” She was beyond done with this conversation. 

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, grabbing the other girl's shoulders when she almost crashed into her. Was that a genuine trace of concern in her eyes?

“You mean you’re not from here? Does mother know?”

Nicole nodded, but before she had time to add anything else, another voice called out for the brunette from behind the pair. It was Bela, the sound of heels on the marble floors echoing around them as she approached. 

“Cassandra, dinner is in two hours.” 

“And?”

“And you said you would take care of the meat. Did you?” 

The blonde scoffed at her sister’s widened eyes, then hooked a finger around the chain connected to Cassandra’s watch and clicked her tongue when she saw the time.

“If you insist on carrying this around at all times, you could at least start making use of it. You have around twenty minutes.” Her voice was icy cold, as opposed to Cassandra’s stammered reply.

“Wait, can you stall the cook for a bit, there’s no way I can do two bodies in twenty minutes!”

“Sorry Cassandra, that’s out of my hands.” And with that, the blonde turned on her heels and left the two of them at the entrance of the dungeons, Cassandra damn near seething.

The two wasted no time in hastily descending the stony dungeon steps, Nicole going back to the study while Cassandra went towards the cells. After no more than two minutes, she came in and haphazardly threw a body on each table. 

The most logical thing to do would be to go about her chores and not risk attracting the brunette's wrath upon herself. But logic was out the window the moment she stepped foot into the Duke's caravan to come to this place. Besides, staying on Cassandra's good side was far better than mopping the floor in hopes she wouldn't snap one day and throw her in one of the moldy cells. 

"Would you like some help with those?" Nicole asked tentatively. 

"Can you help?" Cassandra didn't even look in her direction, only throwing a hand in the air and taking out what looked like freezer safe bags from a cupboard. 

"...Yeah." 

Golden eyes turned to her and the brunette stilled for a second. Skepticism and confusion both obvious on her face at the idea of this small meek maid offering to help out in chopping up a human body. She realized however that the alternative wasn't much better so with a raised eyebrow she put a scalpel and a pair of gloves on the table closest to Nicole. 

"Suit yourself. And don't make a mess." Oh you're to talk. 

Now, admittedly, performing an autopsy wasn't exactly the same as straight up butchering a human body for consumption. How different would it be though? The organs just needed to be separated and the limbs cut. She tried not to look at the face while making the first incision. 

---

It took 17 minutes for both of them to finish. All the bits and pieces were separated and secured in bags just in time for a knock on the door. Cassandra threw her gloves in the sink and went to open it, letting an older woman only vaguely familiar to Nicole inside. 

"Lady Cassandra, I didn't know you had help," she raised an eyebrow at the redhead awkwardly standing by the table she had worked at, scalpel still in hand. 

Cassandra only grimaced and with mock cheerfulness in her voice said, "Surprise." 

The older woman, presumably the cook, motioned for the maids that came with her to take the bags and, with a slight bow of the head to Cassandra, they were gone, only the bloody mess on the tables left behind. The brunette let a sigh escape past her lips and turned to Nicole. Her yellow gaze examined the now bloody uniform for a moment. 

"A shame this got dirty," she said, approaching the redhead. 

Tiredness and holding her tongue never mixed well within Nicole, so at the obviously fake apologetic tone she allowed an edge of snark into her reply. 

"Oh don't worry, the maids are all quite good at washing out blood stains. It's part of the job requirements." 

Cassandra just chuckled and rolled her eyes at the sass. 

"Just ask the head chambermaid for a replacement. This is seriously ruined," she said toying with the hem of Nicole's white blouse, now soaked in crimson. "Your face however, we can still salvage that." 

Nicole furrowed her brows and brought a hand to her cheek, cursing herself under her breath upon realizing that she was still wearing the bloody gloves and had just smeared even more on her face. She took them off and threw them on a cleaner spot on the table to be retrieved later. Meanwhile, the brunette moved to the sink and returned shortly with a damp handkerchief. 

She grabbed Nicole's chin between two slender fingers and tilted her head upward. Nicole could feel the metal of the table's edge against her lower back when she instinctively tried taking a step back. She had no way of escaping. Not that escaping even as much as grazed the surface of her mind when she locked eyes with Cassandra, an uncharacteristic sort of softness in her gaze. She took her sweet time passing the damp fabric over the blood stained skin. Then, after she seemed content with her handywork, she dragged her fingers over Nicole's cheek in a caress that sent a small shiver down the redhead's spine. 

"There. Good as new," the brunette hummed. 

It was a complete lie and they both knew it. The blush now present on Nicole's cheeks was probably just as bad as the crimson stains she was sporting mere moments ago, she was quite sure of that. By some mercy of the crow woman these people worshipped though, Cassandra didn't acknowledge it and simply moved back to her desk, leaving Nicole frozen in place.

After a few seconds of silence, Cassandra chuckled and, without turning from whatever she was scribbling in a notebook, said:

"Those tables won't clean themselves darling." 

Oh shut the fuck up. 

---

Most staff members preferred to spend their free time in the gardens, be it the inner courtyard or the fenced in garden at the back of the estate. Nicole was no exception to that. When she had time, she liked to grab a hot cup of tea and sit down in this small nook of the garden where a small, almost knee high bench was overshadowed by large rose bushes. Nobody else seemed to come there if the old cracked wood of the small seat was anything to go by, except maybe the gardener for occasional maintenance but she was nowhere to be seen most times. 

The quiet was interrupted by a distant set of heavy steps. Steps that Nicole ignored. She wasn't in any off limits area and this was her day off. She wasn't doing anything wrong and, therefore, had no reason to believe whoever was walking around was there for her. Until the steps became louder and the sound of heels clear on the stony path. 

"There you are," Cassandra's voice almost made Nicole spit out the tea she was currently drinking. 

The brunette laughed at that, in an oddly good mood and stopped to stand in front of the redhead. Cassandra's "good mood" made Nicole highly suspicious given past experience. She set her cup down and, with a cough to clear out her offended airways, stood and addressed the brunette. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure, my lady?" Aside from having my one free day interrupted. Again.

She saw Cassandra pout for a brief moment but it was quickly replaced by her ever so characteristic smirk. A smirk that Nicole would never admit was awfully attractive paired with the sharp features of her face. At least not out loud. 

"I have wonderful news for you," she said, tilting Nicole's head up with a hand, thumb distractingly close to her lips. "Cynthia, our cook, said she really appreciated the way you sectioned that body last week. So mother decided to give you a ...promotion so to speak." 

Nicole had yet to decide whether this was indeed wonderful news or not, but the part of her brain that was seeking some kind of thrill made that decision for her when Cassandra leaned in close to her ear, lips tantalizingly close to the skin. 

"Congratulations, from now on you're only working with me in the dungeons." 

Cassandra didn't want to kill her did she? She did say that Nicole was intriguing to her and therefore the redhead was somewhat safe from ending up on one of the autopsy tables herself. At least that's what she told that part of her mind still somewhat concerned about self preservation that was screaming at how risky her next move was. 

She gingerly placed her hands on the brunette's hips, tilting her head in a way not unlike Cassandra did mere moments ago. 

"Does that mean I get to teach you proper autopsy technique?" 

Thankfully that got a chuckle out of her, moving back just enough to be able to look into Nicole's green eyes. "Assuming you manage to keep your tongue long enough." 

She couldn't do much more than let out a soft laugh at the absurdity of her situation. There she was, in the garden of a castle in the middle of nowhere with the Lady's sadistic daughter mere inches from her. She decided that at that point in her life if she was going to die, she may as well go out in style, and what on earth could top falling for one of the most dangerous women in a village full of horrors. She shifted her hand slightly, bumping into the handle of the sickle strapped to Cassandra's waist. 

"May I?" She said barely above a whisper, fingers wrapping loosely around the weapon. 

Cassandra gave her an incredulous look, trying to understand what on earth she could want with the weapon. She was aware she couldn't hurt her right?

A small shrug was all the permission Nicole needed. She undid the leather strap that kept the sickle in place and moved back only a bit. Enough to step on the small bench and lift herself. She felt Cassandra's hands placed on her waist for support, almost mimicking the gentleness of Nicole's touch from earlier, when she raised herself on her tiptoes. She took hold of one of the roses above them -a yellow one- and with a quick swipe she cut the stem. The brunette watched her take her sweet time scraping off any thorns before her hood was taken off and that same rose was now placed in her dark wavy hair, right above her left ear. 

"Mm… it matches your eyes. And necklace," Nicole added, bending down to return the sickle to its rightful place. 

Cassandra crashed their lips the next second, her hands pulling Nicole closer from where they were placed on her hips. After a second of shocked stillness, the kiss was returned, their lips tentatively sliding against each other. "Tentatively" didn't last long however, as Cassandra pushed forward, pressing the her against the stone wall behind them eliciting a small moan from Nicole, who's hand ended up tangled in black locks. She tugged on them slightly once she finally needed to breathe and Cassandra pulled back only a bit. She let their foreheads rest against each other and felt Nicole's soft laugh on her lips. 

"Do you even need to breathe?"

"No," the brunette answered simply. 

Nicole blinked in confusion, not expecting her half joke to turn out truthful but before she could speak, Cassandra took a hand off her waist and pulled something out of a pocket. 

"Here," she pushed a familiar looking object into the redhead's hands. 

"Y...Your key to the dungeons?" She was still trying to get her thoughts organized into some sort of coherence when Cassandra rolled her eyes. 

"It's a copy. So I don't have to escort you every time you come down there, which," she added with a gloved finger brushing against her lower lip, "is gonna be more frequent now." 

Nicole nodded, not really trusting her words. She didn't need any though, as Cassandra simply pushed herself off the wall and turned on her heels to leave. 

"See you tomorrow at dawn." 

And with a smirk, she broke into a swarm of flies and disappeared down the stony path.

[monicashipslokius]

Soulmates, Actually Pt 4

(read part 1/part 2/part 3)

A sharp, shrill alarm blares before the sun has even risen, rousing Loki from a perfect slumber. Loki groans their disgust, but it’s muffled in the meat of Mobius’s shoulder.

“Easy, sunshine,” Mobius says, and the infernal man is actually trying to move.

Loki grumbles louder. Mobius, chuckling, eases Loki away from him and onto the pillow instead. It’s not the same - too soft and not nearly warm enough. Loki clings tighter around Mobius’s waist in retaliation.

“We talked about this,” Mobius says. “I have to go back to work today.”

Loki huffs in frustration as they let Mobius remove their hold and lower their arms to the bed. The pillow is a poor replacement.

For a moment, Mobius brushes Loki’s hair back away from their face. His fingers linger, feather-light, at the edge of Loki’s cheekbone. Too soon, the touch is gone.

“I’ll be back at six pm sharp.”

Loki rolls onto Mobius’s side of the bed and falls asleep again.

When they awaken, the sun is bright and the sheets are cool. Loki’s stomach rumbles. They groan as they pull themself out of bed and finally face the day.

The long, lonely day.

A week has passed since Thor’s departure - a week of Loki and Mobius redecorating and cuddling and learning each other.

They bought six plants of varying sizes, new drapes the color of the ocean, and a soft bedspread to match. Mobius fixed up the broken bathroom door, and Loki hung a few new art pieces and string lights.

The La-Z-Boy they arranged in front of a small boxy television set became a fast favorite.

“What did I tell you?” Mobius said the first time Loki relaxed deeply into the recliner. “It’s the perfect throne.”

Mobius may not understand color palettes, but the man knows comfort.

“It will do for now,” Loki told him, not wanting to give too much away.

Mobius’s smile never wavered. “Mmhm.”

Now, Loki drags themself to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Ten minutes later, they are perched on the recliner, plate on their lap, watching soap operas on television.

Claudio is surprised to find that his fiance Regina’s twin sister Georgina has been behind all of his misfortune, but the plot twist has Loki rolling their eyes.

“Amateurs.” Loki bites into an apple slice.

The hours tick by. Loki watches the anchor-shaped clock that hangs in the kitchen - much of their new decor has an ocean theme. But the more Loki watches the clock, the slower time seems to pass.

Time flew by with Mobius here. But without him...

After the soap operas, the courtroom shows begin. And then the news programs. Loki walks laps around the apartment while listening to the weather forecast for the third time - partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain. The cost of gasoline is skyrocketing. The local high school football team might make county finals, whatever that means.

At quarter to six, Loki thanks the cosmos. Finally. Mobius will be home and put an end to this monotony.

Loki cleans up a bit, dusting some crumbs off the arms of the recliner. They place the plates in the sink.

Then, because they don’t want to appear too eager, they grab a book and stretch out on the bed.

Six o’clock comes and goes. Mobius does not arrive.

By seven, Loki is annoyed.

By eight, they are angry.

By ten, they are concerned.

Dubuque seems relatively safe. And Mobius has lived here alone for a long time before Loki.

But Loki has enemies. Many, many enemies. All of whom would be more than happy to get their hands on their soulmate.

Mobius is probably fine.

But what if he’s not?

At eleven, they are examining the photo of his office building that Mobius keeps on the dresser. Mobius had taken them to see it in the past week, though they hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t too far a walk, if they recall. Loki is certain that they could find it again, even in darkness.

So they change into a black suit and hurry out the door. The Dubuque city streets are barren this time of night. Loki encounters no one on their trek to the office - until they barge through the front door and are stopped by a security guard.

Loki promised Mobius that they would not hurt anyone, so instead they create a projection of themself to distract the guard while they themself head toward the elevators. Following the signs for the data analytics department, they ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

They step off the elevator into a darkened field of cubicles. Each is the same - small desk, computer, and chair. All are empty. But Loki isn’t alone here. They follow a light through the cubicle maze and come to one that is occupied.

Mobius has a foot-high pile of files on his desk. He’s tapping at his computer keyboard with the index finger of each hand and peering at the small monitor.

“Mobius?”

Mobius jumps, then clutches his chest. He exhales when he sees Loki standing in the opening of his 3ft x 4ft cell. “Give a guy a warning next time.” He smiles. “But it’s good to see you. How’d you get here? Security let you in?”

Loki only frowns at him. “You said you’d be back at six.”

Mobius’s smile loses some of its brightness. “I have to work a little late. Next time we go out, we’ll get you a phone so I can call and let you know -”

“’A little late?’ Mobius, it’s been hours. I thought you were...” They won’t give name to their truest fears. That Mobius had been kidnapped or killed. Or perhaps that he had finally seen the true darkness in Loki and left of his own free will.

Mobius shakes his head. “Come on, Loki. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only...” He glances at his monitor. “Midnight? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you that is accurate.”

Mobius sits back in his squeaking chair, and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry...” He releases a drawn out sigh and his whole body droops. “Boss was cheesed that I bailed on the conference. I have a lot of work to make up.”

The stack of folders towers over Mobius’s slouched shoulders.

“Would it helped if I -”

“You can’t kill him,” Mobius says.

Loki closes their mouth. Tries again. “He needn’t be killed. I could simply... frighten him.”

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“Fine,” Loki says, disappointed. “But what is your intention? To stay here all night?”

Mobius side-eyes the folder mountain. “I’m going to have to.”

“No.”

Mobius sighs. “Loki -”

“This is a place of employment, Mobius, not a living space.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have come back sooner.” He rubs at the corner of one eye. “Maybe I should have stayed at the conference.”

The words stab Loki between the ribs.

“Magicking away was not my best idea,” Mobius says. “I shouldn’t have run from my responsibilities. I’ll never catch up on this work.”

More stabs, a thousand tiny cuts.

“So you regret everything,” Loki says, fighting hard to keep the hurt from their voice. They are disappointed by their own surprise, their own pain. They had thought Mobius was different. They should have known.

Thor was wrong when he said no one could hold Loki’s interest. It was the other way around. Loki protected themself by leaving before the other could get bored. They should have done that here.

But they thought...

Mobius is supposed to be their perfect match.

“No, hey,” Mobius jumps from his chair. That’s all it takes to put him in Loki’s space. Loki takes a step back. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret everything, just some things.”

“You regret coming with me when we escaped.”

“N-no,” he says, but not without hesitation.

“You could have stayed. They weren’t chasing you. You could have told them I brainwashed you and gone on with your day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The bags are heavy under Mobius’s eyes. He’s tired, Loki knows that - but Loki’s tired too. Sitting, waiting, stressing.

The room sparks with tension. Loki’s pain festers under their skin.

And Mobius regrets.

Loki takes a breath, searching for calm. For understanding. For their soulmate. “Come home,” they say, “And we can continue talking in the morning.”

Mobius exhales again, too sharp. He places his hands on his hips and looks at that damned pile of folders again. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“Mobius -”

“This is my life, Loki,” Mobius tells him. “Data analysis is my life. You have to understand that.”

Something dark in Loki’s chest snaps clean in half. “This is your life. This.” They wave a hand around. “This tiny box in a sea of tiny boxes. Where everyone else has left you here in the dark. Where your employer buries you under papers so deep that you cannot find your way out of them. Is all this extra work truly because you left the conference? How often would you work late before I arrived?”

Mobius looks away, and Loki knows they’re right. The answer, too often.

“Are you at least receiving additional benefits for all this extra time spent here?”

Mobius still won’t look at them.

“They are taking advantage of you, of your loyalty, and you are letting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mobius snaps, the sharpest he’s ever spoken to Loki.

Loki stands taller. They’re used to anger, to cutting words, to pain - more than they were ever used to kindness.

“I am trying to protect you,” Loki says.

“I don’t need protection from my job.”

For one wild moment, Loki thinks of grabbing those folders and tossing them across the room. They dream of throwing Mobius over their shoulder and saving them from this drab place and its tan carpet and eggshell walls.

Instead, they insist, “No, you do. You owned three photos when I first met you: one of your parents, one of a jetski, and one of this office. Can you not see how depressing that is?”

Mobius face hardens.

“You are meant for better things than this. When was the last time you even rode a jetski? Or had fun of any kind?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need fun.”

“That is absurd.”

Mobius’s brows draw together. “Listen, not all of us could be born into royalty, and just go around doing whatever we want all the time.”

Born into royalty. A fresh sting, not one Mobius could know would hit so hard. But it does all the same. Loki steps backward from the force of it.

Mobius unhooks his arms. “Loki -”

Loki shakes their head. Mobius watches them, confusion replacing frustration, followed quickly by concern. He lifts his hand, but Loki steps back again, further out of reach.

“It’s fine,” Loki says, lying. “Stay as long as you like.” They bury the pain down deep. It’s familiar, an old, hated friend. “I wouldn’t dare dream of treading on your unhappiness.”

Mobius drops his hand. “I am happy. I am perfectly happy.”

“Good,” Loki says.

“Great,” Mobius says.

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

They stare hard at each other. Loki refuses to look away first.

When Mobius finally does, turning back to his cubicle and his chair and the stack of folders, disappointment floods through Loki.

They don’t wait to be dismissed, they turn and leave on their own.

*

Loki does not return to the apartment. Instead, they walk and they walk and they walk. They almost hope to be accosted by vagrants, so as to release some restless energy in a fight, but they see no one. They reach a river and follow it into a forest.

They sit along the riverbank and watch the sunlight crest over the trees.

Maybe they shouldn’t have surrendered the scepter. With the tesseract, they could have traveled anywhere. Now they are limited to the distance of their own two legs. Not that they would know where to go anyway.

The only place they want to be is back at the apartment with Mobius.

It’s evening when they eventually make their way back there. Their stomach growls, and they’re thirsty and tired. With some food and a good night’s rest, perhaps they could leave again with a plan this time. Hire a taxi to an airport and take a plane. Find a city of decadence and lose themself for a few decades.

They don’t expect Mobius to be home. It’s only shortly after seven, far too early for his beloved late nights. Yet as they place the key into the lock and start to turn, they barely have time to remove it before being yanked forward into the apartment and into a crushing embrace.

“Don’t leave me,” Mobius says. His arms are sure around Loki’s waist. His nose is buried in the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. His words are muffled by Loki’s forest-dirty suit coat. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Not until you. And not without you.”

Loki sags into his arms, and he holds tighter, keeping Loki upright. Keeping them safe. They close their eyes and let the warmth of Mobius’s body chase away the chill of the Iowa evening air.

“You scared the hell outta me,” Mobius says, voice shaky. “I looked for you everywhere, but I kept checking here. I kept hoping you’d come back. I’m so sorry.” Mobius leans back. He reaches up and cups Loki’s face between his palms. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over Loki’s cheekbones. “I want to be good for you.”

“How could you think you’re not?”

Regret shines in Mobius’s eyes now, more than it ever did during their argument. “I hurt you. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Loki places their hand over one of Mobius’s on their face. “I hurt you, too, I suspect.”

“No, everything you said was right.” He swallows. “Work’s all I had for so long, and when I was back there, and they started piling it on... Everyone else in that office has always had someone, so before I would take on the extra work myself. It was better than coming home alone. It’s a hard habit to break. Loki, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But Loki still wants to hear it. Each of Mobius’s words are a balm over their pain. Mobius keeps going. He doesn’t even stop for breath.

“I lashed out at you, and I only did that because you were right. And I didn’t want to hear it. But then you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Loki says. “I’m here now.”

“I am a lousy soulmate.” Mobius smiles, but it’s too soft, too sad. “After so long alone, I don’t think that I know how to be with somebody. But I want to learn. I want to deserve this, with you.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and their mending heart threatens to break again. “I am no great prize.”

Mobius starts to laugh. “I’m trying to be serious, Loki.”

“I am too,” Loki says, and whatever Mobius sees on their face stops the laughter. Loki studies the softness in Mobius’s gaze, the adoration, the great care, memorizing as much as they can, in case this is the last time they see it. “I’m a monster.”

Mobius, voice flat and unamused, says, “Be serious.”

“I was not born to royalty. Not like you think,” Loki says and waits. Dread rolls over them in waves, but Mobius does not react more than a slight cant of his head. “I’m not...” It would be easier to show him, but Loki can’t. If they do, Mobius will change all of his sweet words. He won’t stand to share this small apartment with them any longer, and Loki will be back on that riverside. “How you see me is not... how I am.”

Mobius is patient. Mobius waits. Maybe Loki wasn’t wrong about Mobius after all. Maybe Mobius, like them, is imperfect and a little afraid but trying.

Slowly, Loki pulls Mobius’s hands from their face so as not to burn him with the cold of their skin as they lift the glamour that hides their Jotunn form.

They want to look away, to hide from the horror they are sure to see on Mobius’s face, but simultaneously are too desperate to see any and every reaction.

Mobius’s eyes grow wide. His lips part. He blinks a few times.

“Loki,” Mobius says, and Loki braces for fresh heartache. But then he smiles, real and true and bright, a lighthouse in a lifetime of hurt. “Blue like the ocean.” The adoration never dims from his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

*

Mobius insists he doesn’t care, but Loki only feels comfortable again with their glamour restored.

“Either way,” Mobius says, and sends Loki off to the bathroom to shower and change. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”

When Loki leaves the tiny bathroom in their silk pajamas, they find the small two-person table lit by candlelight. Mobius stands beside it, wearing one of the dark suits Loki picked out for him at the store, with a deep green tie that’s slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Loki asks.

“I know we’re soulmates, and our fates are destined and everything,” Mobius says, tugging at his collar. A bit of pink dusts his cheeks. “But some things should be done the old fashioned way. I want to win your heart, so I thought...” He clears his throat. “I want to wine and dine you. Properly.”

“Ah.” Loki slides further into the room, heart lighter than it’s been in the past forty-eight hours. All the lingering hurts are mended. And Mobius looks delectable in that suit, just as Loki thought he would. Loki strides right up to him, reaches out, and adjusts his tie. “You are attempting to seduce me.”

Mobius’s cheeks redden. He glances away for the briefest of moments before his eyes return to Loki’s face.

“You are everything a guy could want,” Mobius says. “More than I ever dreamed.”

Loki finishes fixing Mobius’s tie, but leaves their hands flat on Mobius’s chest. Mobius takes one and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss to Loki’s palm.

Loki shivers, but not from any cold.

“Loki,” Mobius says, giving so much weight to the name - things unspoken, maybe not ready to be said, but are known - so known, and ready to be shown.

Mobius leans, and Loki stays very still, waiting, wanting but so, so afraid.

Mobius stops just out of reach. His breath hot on Loki’s lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallows all their fear and whispers, “Please.”

Mobius closes the distance and presses their lips together.

Fireworks ignite in Loki’s chest. Their heart thunders. Their hands itch for more, so they grab Mobius by the shoulders and hold, clinging, ruining the new suit and not caring at all.

Mobius cups Loki’s jawline, guiding them closer, tilting gently, positioning Loki just as he wants them. Loki goes willingly, opening their mouth as Mobius licks his way inside.

They should have done this long ago. They should do this all the time. This should never, ever stop.

Loki moans as Mobius’s fingers comb into their hair. Mobius breaks for air, tilts his head, and comes back for more. Loki holds Mobius so close, they are certain their heart beats straight into Mobius’s chest.

It’s perfect, passion incarnate, and Loki wants so much that they -

Loki’s stomach growls. Loudly.

Mobius smiles against Loki’s lips.

Loki groans as Mobius plants one more soft kiss and pulls away.

“Wining and dining time,” he says with a wink.

Loki is both endeared and annoyed. “I will have more of this.” His stomach grumbles again. “After dinner.”

Loki doesn’t miss the flush of Mobius’s cheeks, even as his easy smile returns. “It would be my absolute pleasure, and I mean that.”

[absolutebl]

Y-Destiny 

This was a collection of two episode vignettes, slightly linked, and thus not a series as such. Some I rate higher than others as BL.

Ep 1-2: Tue - sports enemies to lovers 7/10

Ep 3-4: Sun - teacher/student poor little rich kid 7/10

Ep 5-6: Mon - player/virgin 5/10

Ep 7-8: Thurs - ghost story 5/10

Ep 9-10: Weds - players learning love 8/10

Ep 11-12: Sat - time slip friends to lovers 5/10

Ep 13-15: Fri - second chance at love 8/10

Average: 6/10 

I enjoyed this for what it was but I’m not sure it’s worth judging on a level with proper series because there was no opportunity for full story arc. However, each couple was given no more or less time than some Vietnamese BLs, so I rated each pair and then averaged.

Because I dislike the director’s style, I didn’t expect to enjoy Y-Destiny as much as I did. It used BL trappings but had a certain raunchy crassness to it that came off as more genuinely gay then most BL, which I appreciated and probably explains why the Weds installment was a favorite. I also really loved the YoonLayPerth not the least of which because a three person ship is a hard path to walk under any circumstances let alone Thai BL.

But taken as a whole? 

It was uneven, some chemistry was better than others. And because this is a series, one is tempted to compare couples, which makes those that were less good seem more less good. In the end, It was mixed and so were my feelings. The parts I liked best were the moments when we got to see the friendship group interacting, and I wish this had been more v-gay Friend Zone soap opera with interweaving arcs for multiple couples drawn out over a series rather than episodic installments. Still, I hope we get to see more of many of these actors in the future.

Bonus picture of Lovely Writer nodding to Y-Destiny. Cute. 

[carriagelamp]

Weirdly enough, I often find myself reading less in the summer, since I have more time than I do during the rest of the year to do other things. Also artfight has been eating up more than a bit of my free time! But here’s a collection a graphic novels I sat around on the hammock reading, and some novels I finished up...

(Everyone go read All Systems Red, holy crow guys)

A Whale of the Wild

The “sequel” to A Wolf Called Wander, though it doesn’t actually connect to the previous novel except in the stylistic/thematic sense. A Whale of the Wild is very much a standalone novel. And a pretty decent one! Personally, I think I liked Wolf more, but this one was a pleasant, informative read, with just the right amount of crushing dread sprinkled in. It’s about a young orca called Vega who is learning to become a new wayfinder for her pod but who still has a lot to learn, especially in an ocean that is becoming increasingly hostile to orcas and the other sealife that live alongside humans. When a devastating earthquake hits, Vega and her little brother find themselves separated from their family, lost in a now horrifyingly unfamiliar environment, and fighting starvation as the salmon that sustain them become more and more unreliable. It’s a desperate fight for survival as they search for food and their missing family. This book is written for a middle grade level, and does a really good job of putting the current environmental crisis into an animal’s perspective while giving the readers something to hope for.

The Adventure Zone: The Crystal Kingdom

Every July I eagerly anticipate the next Adventure Zone graphic novel. This one is for their fourth arc, The Crystal Kingdom, in which Magnus, Taako, and Merle respond to a SOS from a floating laboratory that is gradually being consumed by crystals and which threatens the entire world should it fall into the ocean. Carey Pietsch’s art continues to be absolutely fantastic, so beautifully and hilariously expressive, and this one delivers some great Merle moments, lots of Carey Fangbattle, and, of course, Kravtiz. Kravitz, my beloved…

Anyway, I obviously always recommend these. If you’ve never gotten into The Adventure Zone, I totally recommend either trying these graphic novels — or even better, just go listen to the podcast because it really is both hilarious and creates a shockingly good and heart-wrenching story by the end.

All Systems Red

I’ve seen The Murderbot Diaries on my dash occasionally, and it always looked interesting, but a friend’s recommendation finally compelled me to read the first novella of the series. And holy shit y’all. Absolutely the best book I’ve read this month, it’s amazing. Mind-blowingly good. Also, if you’re like me and want a good audiobook, it’s a nice three-hour listen, very chill!

Anyway, All Systems Red is about a Security Unit, an artificially created being that’s part-organic part-mechanical and all-company-owned-and-controlled. However, self-named “Murderbot” has managed to hack into the system that suppresses its own will, and is now coasting along, doing the least amount of work its job requires not to be noticed, while preferring to spend all its time watching the hours and hours of soap operas it has downloaded into its brain. And it’s a tolerable if somewhat dull life, until the science team that it's currently rented to is attacked and the whole mission goes pear-shaped. Suddenly Murderbot has to scramble to keep its humans alive… while its humans scramble with the realization that their “SecUnit” isn’t actually a mindless robot like they had all believed...

This story is both gripping and hilariously funny. Murderbot has such a unique voice and perspective and it’s an absolute pleasure to follow its story. I reallly need to read the next book...

Asterix and the Banquet

A classic. I was startled when I realized I hadn’t actually read this Asterix story… but hell I’m not gonna complain, it lets me read one of the originals for the first time again! In this Asterix volume, the Indomitable Gauls and the Romans end up arranging a bet — the Romans intend to keep them under siege, trapped in their village, while Asterix is confident that he can easily evade them… and will prove it by going on a tour around all of Gaul, collecting iconic foods from each region in order to return and put on a fine banquet. So we get a fantastic adventure in which Asterix and Obelix run all over the country, pursued the whole way, while making cheerful stops at the various eateries along the way. Also the first book Dogmatix shows up in! All around, a wonderful read, fun like all the best Asterix comics are.

Beauty Pop v4

A less impressive graphic novel. The first Beauty Pop is one of my guilty pleasure manga because… it really is pretty stupid but in the best possible ways. I mean, the whole thing is framed around hairstyling battles, like a shojo sports manga without the sports. It’s bonkers. Unfortunately, the series does not really manage to hold up, and it really begins to feel repetitive and dragging as it continues… as a lot of series like this do. *shrug* Unsurprising but still kinda disappointing I suppose. The building three-way romantic tension is mildly interesting if for no other reason than the main character Does Not Notice and Does Not Care about any of it, which is amusing and refreshing.

FRNCK v5

Now this series only gets better and better as it goes. This is the first book of the second arc, and somehow the danger just seems to be ramping up and up and up. The cavefamily have lost their home… as well as Léonard and Gargouille. Heartbroken, shocked, and angry, Franck is the one who ends up shouldering the blame for their presumed deaths as the others mourn. Things only get worse when Franck finds himself separated from the family, and in the territory of another tribe, this one hostile and cannibalistic...

Haikyuu v5

I continue to read this series because it continues to be charming… though it is beginning to feel, maybe, just a little repetitive. Kind of an inevitability with sports manga. But so far it continues to be good enough to overcome that. I’m not sure what I can say about this series that I haven’t already, so I’ll simply say it continues to be one of the most impressive sports manga I’ve read, and the author does a fantastic job of creating engaging characters, fleshed out teams, and really compelling relationships. I do genuinely adore all the main members of Crows, along with a number of characters from the rival teams as well. And of course it has some kickass volleyball scenes that are just drawn so dramatically they can’t help but take your breath away a little.

M*A*S*H Goes To Maine

Meh. The original book of the series was actually quite good in my opinion. This one… considerably less so. The first part I enjoyed more, since it was about Hawkeye, Trapper, Duke, and Oliver Jones trying to set up the FinestKind Clinic and Fishmarket in Crabapple Cove (which… is just the best premise I could have ever asked for). However, the book spends most of its time describing the quirky lives and times of other people living in the area and I… just… don’t care. It was funny at times but… I just don’t care. I wanted to hear more about the main cast. Also I found this book felt more racist and misogynistic than the first which also put me off :/ Wouldn’t bother if I were you. Go read the first book instead, or better yet just watch the TV show which is an obvious banger.

My Heart’s in the Highlands

I have had this on my “currently reading” list for so long but I’m officially giving up. It’s a really good book in theory but my god I can’t get over the pacing.

It’s about Lady Jane, a woman studying medicine in Edinburgh in 1888, and who suddenly finds herself back in the Highlands in the 13th century. Lost and confused, Jane is now at the mercy Clan Donald’s hospitality while she tries to adjust to this new world and hunts for her broken time machine. Fortunately, this hospitality include a burgeoning friendship with a red-haired warrior woman, Ainslie nic Dòmhnaill, who opens Jane’s eyes to the way the world could be.

Listen. It drives me nuts. This book should be completely up my alley, it has everything I like — IT HAS ALL OF ITS HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES CITED AT THE BACK, LITTLE EXTRA DETAILS ABOUT EVERY CHAPTER. THAT’S MY SHIT RIGHT THERE. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LIKE BEING ABLE TO GO OVER HISTORICAL DETAILS?? AND WELL RESEARCHED FOOTNOTES?? And yet it doesn’t. Fucking. Work for me. It has a kickass Scottish warrior lady as a love interest! It has a badass lady doctor! It has fish-out-of-water culture shock! But it also has a completely meandering plot, no sense of building tension, and a romance that just happens out of nowhere and feels completely unearned and uninteresting.

I would genuinely just rather read Outlander again, which I know has its own host of problems, but at least Outlander felt exciting and interesting and tense and funny. The romance built in fits and starts, it was complicated, and kept me interested. That book had me hooked (and has me hooked every time I reread it) whereas this book I’ve been sadly picking at for months like its a plate of overcooked spinach. This felt like an attempt at a queer, historically accurate knockoff which I would normally be super into but which just could not stick the landing.

Moomin on the Riviera

My first time actually reading anything from the Moomin canon. I have zero idea how to feel about it! It certainly is as feral as I’ve heard described! Overall, I think I enjoyed it but it sure made me feel strange emotions I didn’t know existed. I’m not even going to try to describe it. Read it if you want a batshit insane anti-capitalist comic.

Surviving the City

This was good in some areas, less good in others. It had a very interesting indigenous perspective on life in the modern city, the foster system, and The Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women issue, which I’ve never seen handled in a book before. Something about the pacing did not completely click with me and I found myself getting easily distracted, but it’s definitely worth the read just to experience it and look at the issues it deals with through the characters’ (and author’s) eyes. It did give me a lot to think about and wrestle with, which is sometimes the best thing a book can give you.

Torchwood: Pack Animals

A really fun read, more so than I had ever expected! If you like Torchwood and want more stories about the team before everything goes to shit, this is perfect for that. It includes the entire cast, an interest mystery to be unravelled, lots of slavering monsters, Rhys being really wonderful and sweet (which I didn’t know I wanted until I read this book), and all the humour I expect from Torchwood. I had to send a lot of quotes to my long-suffering girlfriend who a) does not watch this show but b) needs to tolerate it because I find it too funny to keep to myself. It was good enough to make me go out another book of the series since this was the only one my library carried.

[llnewobsessionll]

New Territory (Aro Volturi x human!reader)

A/n: Thanks for the ask! I had lots of fun writing this, hope you enjoy it!

Description: Y/n goes with Alice and Bella to Volterra to save Edward, in Volterra y/n meets Aro, her mate, due to past trauma y/n has difficulty and ends up running away. Y/n ends up in trouble and Aro saves the day.

Warning: Descriptions of anxiety, ptsd, assault and violence. (Anxiety and ptsd are both mental disorders that affect different people differently, I wrote them as how I experience and handle it, however this does vary from person to person.)

Word count: 3379

The fact that I had left Forks without even an hour’s notice was finally starting to get to me and panic started to sink in, I knew I was allowed, to I am an adult after all, but a trip to Italy from Washington on such short notice would surely be jarring for anyone. But, it had to be done, after all, Bella’s boyfriend was trying to commit suicide. This is also the same boyfriend who happens to be a vampire, all these changes were certainly starting to take effect.

Bella had run ahead to try to stop Edward because apparently, she was the only person Edward wouldn’t see coming, whatever that meant. Alice and I were coming up to the giant clocktower that Edward was apparently in, although moving through the crowds of the St. Marcus Day festival was getting increasingly difficult.

Alice made it to the tower ahead of me and snapped the lock on the inside of the doors that held the doors together… vampires were certainly gonna take some getting used to. She ushered me inside and for a second I was blinded from coming from the bright afternoon light to the very dim interior of the clocktower, around me I could hear the distant conversation but I was too confused by the change in scenery to pay attention to what was happening. When my eyesight finally did return to normal I saw Bella, Edward, and Alice together standing across from two men, two vampires, one of which I think is the tallest person I have ever seen in my life. Behind them, my eyes were drawn to a young girl, or I guess vampire, coming up to us.

“Enough,” she said, her voice powerful, obviously the one holding the cards in the conversation, she drew back her hood and my eye took in her bright red eyes, that’s strange, none of the Cullens have red eyes but she does and so does her two companions that I think about it.

Edward ducked his head in greeting and supplied her name, “Jane” I couldn’t tell if it was a greeting or for the benefit of Bella and me, or just Bella because I doubt he cares about me that much.

“Aro sent me to see what was taking so long” was her only reply.

I don’t know why but the name Aro, or at least I assume the name, made a strange feeling run through me. The feeling confused me and yet intrigued me at the same time, it didn’t feel bad, it was most certainly pleasant. Edward started walking forward with Bella’s hand in his guiding her. Alice followed and grabbed my hand as the two men followed behind us we walked all the way to the elevator, the two men, whose names I have yet to find out followed behind me. I really did not like people walking behind me, especially if I did not know them and their presence behind me caused me to tense up more than I was before and I started to panic. Alice must have noticed my reaction and gently guided me in front of her so I was now behind Bella, this still wasn’t ideal, but it was a hella ov a lot better than just that two strange men behind me.  

We followed the petite blonde girl until we reached an elevator and the small glance at it from between Bella and Edward made me think that we would have to take two trips to get us all to where we were going. I was soon proved wrong when we all packed ourselves inside with zero personal space.

Being so close to so many people, most of which I did not know at all or very well with the exit closed off was not an exciting experience to me and if we had been in there much longer I would hate to think of how I would’ve reacted. The weird opera music only made me more nervous and put me more on edge.

Getting out I once again followed behind Bella and Edward, we walked past a human secretary who greeted us in Italian. Bella leaned closer to Edward to signify she wanted to have a private conversation, why she would try when we were surrounded by vampires of all things baffled me. However, I was so close behind them, even I, with my human hearing, could make out their conversation.

“Is she human?” Bella asked

“Yes” came Edward’s response

“Does she know?”

“Yes,” he once again replied, now I haven’t been around Edward too much but I can see he’s a man of very, very few words.

“Then why would…” Bella trailed off, “she wants to be.”

“And so she will be” came from behind, one of the guys had responded to Bella and Edward’s ‘private’ conversation.

“For dessert,” Jane finished off the sentence, her words made an uneasy feeling appear in my stomach. Not only was it nerve-wracking being around Vampires, but especially when they talked about killing people so casually.

Jane opened the doors that were in front of us and led us inside what looked like a chapel, it had similar architecture to worship temples, if a little grande, but I guess that was to be expected for Italy.

In front of us sat three thrones, and upon each of them sat a vampire, the one in the middle, he had black hair down to his shoulders, and the characteristically pale skin and red eyes, dressed in all black instantly had my attention. Something about him drew me in, I couldn’t place it but it was an instant attraction. Immediately both Edward and Alice were in front of me blocking my view of him and shielding me from his view.

Things were happening around us, conversation and movements, but I was still enraptured by the man, I was trying to look in between the gap that Alice and Edward had, but they kept making it harder and harder for me by moving and blocking my view.

I only came back to when Edward rushed forward, still at a human speed, towards where Jane stood. Jane muttered a word, I couldn’t make out what she said from where I was but Edward seemed to freeze in place and then dropped down to his knees. He looked to be in a great deal of pain and I swear I could see Edward’s vein nearly popping out of his skin from how tense he was.

Bella started to beg with Jane to stop and rushed forward as if to help Edward but a vampire that had been standing beside Jane flashed to her side and held her back. Whatever Jane was doing to Edward stopped when the attractive vampire called her name. She looked as if she woke up from a trance.

The attractive vampire turned to Jane, “go ahead my dear” I don’t know what he was talking about but Jane turned her attention to Bella. Bella seemed to tense and held her breath, waiting for something I would guess. However, nothing happened and tension between Jane and Bella rose. The tension was broken when the attractive male clapped his hands together and let out a maniac sounding laugh, “remarkable, she confounds us all. So what shall we do with you know?”

The man with the brown hair sitting behind the attractive guy piped up, “you already know what you’re going to do.” He sounded bored, but at least he finally provided a name for the attractive guy, Aro. For some reason, something as simple as his name had shivers of pleasure going down my back.

“She knows too much,” the blond one behind Aro added on, “she’s a liability.”

Now, I don’t know what exactly they were talking about, but I understood the situation enough that I knew that whatever the end result of it, it would most likely have Bella and me dead. The prospect of me having to witness Bella’s death sent me into a panic, and that may have caused slight irrationality, stepping out from behind Alice I finally spoke up, “there has to be something, what if they can promise that Bella will be turned? She’d no longer be considered a liability then.” As I spoke I looked directly at Aro, because from what I have seen so far, it was him that was making the decisions or at least the most active decision-maker.

Aro stepped forward, I had clearly intrigued him in some way, “oh and who are you, cara?”

It was at that moment, with everyone in the room looking at me, that my confidence escaped me and all I wanted to do was tuck tail and run to somewhere where I was alone. “Mm, my… name is y/n,” my voice didn’t come out as strong as I wanted it to and even I could hear the waver in my voice.

“Well cara, if Edward promised to turn Bella I do believe that that would solve the problem, although from what I have seen it seems as if he’s… hesitant” Aro seemed to slowly be inching closer to me, or that could have just been my paranoia talking.

“Bella will be one of us, I have seen, in one of my visions” Alice butted in, taking a step forward and slowly fingering her glove off, she took another step forward and placed her hand within Aro’s. The strangest of all is that Aro shut his eyes and looked as if he was concentrating, this confused me so I looked over to Bella and Edward in hopes that one of them would fill me in on my obvious obliviousness.

Seeing my confused face Bella thankfully informed me, “Aro can see every thought and memory you’ve ever had with one touch,” when she said this she did so quietly, almost like if she spoke too loud she would get scowled.

Well, I guess I’ll have to refrain from touching him then, eh?

Both Alice and Aro stepped back, turning to Bella he addressed her, “your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal, go now and make preparations,” he turned to me and reached out to grab my arm, I stepped out of his reach, trying to stop the contact.

“What about y/n, she has to come with us too!” Bella piped up after seeing both Edward and Alice trying to escort her out and leave me behind. Desperately I looked at her, hoping that she’ll take me with her. Even though I feel this strange attraction and connection to Aro I still felt safer with Bella, I was in unfamiliar territory with strangers, and the only thing grounding me was the sense of familiarity that I had with Bella.

“y/n? She’s staying here” Aro said with a sound of finality as he turned around and sat on his throne, completely laid back and absolutely unworried, which was the complete opposite from me as I was slowly starting to give in to my panic as I processed what was happening.

Thankfully it seemed as if Bella wasn’t gonna give up on me, who stood there uselessly by the way, “no! No, she’s coming back with us, you can't trap her here!”

Edward grabbed Bella’s arm and started half-heartedly tugging her out of the room, “Bella, come on, it’s no use.” I knew Edward didn’t like me all that much but to see him abandon me so fast definitely hurt.

Alice grabbed Bella’s other arm when she saw the younger girl still resisting, “Bella, calm down, we’ll explain it to you later, we can’t stop it.” At the very least Alice was doing a much better job at calming Bella down than Edward had, but to hear her be so definite about the outcome of the situation really didn’t help me at all.

Alice and Edward slowly started to escort Bella out of the room, I however still stood there looking at her desperately hoping that she’ll put up more of a fight for me. I knew if I tried to go with them one of the vampires would stop me before I finished taking a step, and there was no hope of fighting off a vampire or running off.

When the door finally shut behind Bella, Edward, and Alice I felt a sinking weight take place in my chest and could no longer stand. I sat down, desperately trying to hold back my panic. Almost immediately Aro was in front of me on one knee reaching for me, all I could manage to do was look up at him, no doubt teary eyed, “please don’t touch me, not yet,” he looked pained when I said that but nodded his head and lifted me into his arms bridal style, making sure that none of our skin make contact and that my pants and top were acting as a barrier between our skin.

It was less than ten seconds later than we stood in a different room, which looks to be a very expensive and immaculately kept bedroom. My face was still slightly buried in his shoulder from the run here.

He place me on the bed and stepped back, he look unsure of how to proceed next, almost nervous, I found it absolutely adorable and wholesome, and honestly a part of me wanted to ask him to stay, because no matter if I like it or not I felt some sense of comfort when I was close to him, but a bigger part of me needed the space in order to think and process all that happened and to calm down enough to think sensibly about the situation.

I couldn’t possibly look at him at the moment so I ended up looking at his shoes at the carpet that he was standing on, “I just need some… alone time, to y’know process everything” it came out as a quiet mumble, but I knew with his hearing he heard it anyway.

Nodding his head, he held his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels, “certainly, I’ll come back later to check up on, if you need anything just call me and I’ll be right here,” he looked so delicate, long gone was the man from the throne room who was in charge and self-assured, no all that there was was a courteous, if slightly awkward gentleman.

He waited for my nod of confirmation before he left and suddenly I was alone in the room.

↼♔♔♔⇀

It was later that evening when the sun was almost completely down and several hours had passed and my confidence was back up that I decided to do something that could potentially be reckless. Did I acknowledge the fact that going out into a strange building that no doubt would be full of vampires would be a bad idea? Yes, yes I did. Did I have full knowledge that I had absolutely no clue where I was going and that the vampires drank human blood? Once again, affirmative. Did my grumbling stomach take priority over my safety? At the moment? Yes.

It was about five steps out the door that I truly came to terms with just how big that inside of the clocktower is and the fact that I would most definitely end up lost. But still I continued forward, hoping beyond hope that I could get myself so lost that I could find the kitchen, or anyone nice enough to direct me to the kitchen.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes of me walking around taking turns and going in directions completely at random that I finally came across someone, someone who happened to be a vampire.

The Cullens were vampires and they all seemed to be really nice, even Rosalie as long as you didn’t mess with her, and Aro seemed to be nice enough so I thought that going up to the strange vampire and asking for directions to the kitchen couldn’t turn out too bad, especially considering that Aro, who seemed to be really important acted like he cared for me.

Going up to the vampire I had just opened my mouth to ask for directions when he suddenly turned around and stared at me. That star could only be described like a hunter looking down at its prey, ready to pounce and a shot of fear ran through me. I realized that asking a random person for directions didn’t sound like the best idea and just as I was about to take a step back and retreat he moved. In a split second he had me pinned up against the wall with his hand around my throat, the breath had been knocked from my lungs from the sheer force of his action so even if I tried to call out nothing more than a strangled gasp would make its way out.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking around here, huh?” He hissed, his mouth slowly making its way closer and closer to  my neck, I suppose that’s where my jugular would be, one bite and I would be down.

I heaved in a strangled breath, which was a lot harder than you would think with his hand wrapped around my throat like a necklace. Finally getting enough air to call out I tried to be as loud as I could to draw attention to myself “Aro, Aro, Aro” however just from calling his name three times left me feeling winded and the only other thing I could manage was a meek sounding “please.”

In a blink of an eye, a lot faster than I could process, the weight of the vampire was off me and Aro was standing in front of me with the two male guards from earlier. I slid down the wall with one hand on my throat coughing and trying to get enough air back in my lungs. Between the four vampires, a fight broke out and they were talking but I could hear them over the blood drumming through my ears. The fight only lasted for a couple of seconds before the strange vampire ended up in a pile of limbs on the ground.

While I was still trying to get my breathing back to normal Aro came over to me and crouched down, he looked like he wanted to touch me and comfort me but was holding himself back. At the moment, all I wanted was the comfort that I found around him so I opened my arms up in invitation and as a sign that I wanted a hug.

Relief seemed to come over his face and he pulled me into an embrace. I made sure that I had my hand on the back of his neck so he could use his gift. For a couple seconds he looked distant and I buried my head into his neck so I didn’t have to watch his reaction, I already knew it wouldn’t be good, nobody had a good reaction to memories like mine.

He hugged me tighter and lifted me up, “let’s go back to your room, cara.”

This time he walked us back to the room at a human pace, I would have normally been glad for that but the extra time it was taking us to get to the room meant extra time to worry over his reaction.

“Why don’t we just calm down, yeah” he whispered reassuringly while sitting on the bed with me still in his arms, “I promise nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”

A bout of relief came over me, he wasn’t gonna make a big deal about it or pull away because it made him feel uncomfortable, he was going to stay with me and help me through it.

On his lap I turned so I was stranding him and laid my head on his shoulder. I intertwined our fingers and left our hands on my thigh.

That entire night Aro stayed by my side, only leaving to get me food after my stomach grumbling interrupted us. That night I fell asleep with Aro right by my side and got the best sleep of my life.

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Crystal Clear

AN: Part of an art trade with @plutonis in honor of her upcoming wedding. She tasked me with writing an introspective piece for a Brinky wedding. The art piece I requested is for the next chapter of Nova, so you’ll see the finished product there. 

Prompt given by Pluto: I was wondering if you could do a little fic in which Brain is walking down the aisle on his wedding day, and we hear the thoughts going on in his head. What is he thinking? How is he feeling?

AO3 Link

If Brain had his way, he would’ve taped himself to the table leg with extra strong industrial strength duct tape and remained there for the rest of his life.

But Romy wouldn’t let him attach himself to said table leg, and Wakko already ate the duct tape to prevent him from getting it. All other binding materials, including the shoe strings and gluesticks, had been placed on a shelf mockingly out of his reach.

And since he was already in his wedding dress, he couldn’t even climb the shelf to retrieve the necessary materials.

“Dad, you’re killing the glarb,” Romy complained as he pried Brain from the table leg.

“Unhand me at once or so help me, Roman Numeral One!” Brain shouted, trying to break free from Romy’s grip, but it seemed their son had inherited Pinky’s unusual strength.

Wakko wasn’t any help either. He just watched the spectacle from his perch on the dresser, chomping on a platter of garlic prawns swiped from the catering company. Thankfully, Brain had the foresight to order plenty of garlic prawns for their celebratory dinner.

As soon as Romy’s grip loosened, Brain broke free and reattached himself to the table leg.

Funny, how he wanted this for so long. Yearned for it. And when the time came, even after all the progress he’d made, he was still afraid for reasons he didn’t understand.

It was illogical, he knew. He trusted Pinky more than anyone else, even himself.

But even that wasn’t enough to get him moving again.

“Guess someone’s gotta tell Ma you’re not coming,” Romy sighed.

Brain’s fingers dug into the wooden grooves.

“He’s definitely gonna cry. Probably gonna curl up on the couch and watch daytime soap operas with buckets of triple fudge ice cream or something,” Romy continued.

Sweet, innocent Pinky being heartbroken at his own wedding. Running off and doing who-knows-what, because he could be very unpredictable when he was truly distraught. His simple mind eroding away because of the unhealthy combination of trashy soap operas and ice cream diet.

Brain’s heart clenched uncomfortably at that mental image. With great reluctance, Brain let go of the table leg and marched over to the mirror to smooth out the wrinkles in his wedding dress to keep his hands occupied as he quelled that troublesome idea.  

“You’re gonna tell him that Brain’s in here, right?” Wakko asked.

“Sure,” Romy replied.

Wait...everyone knew of his intentions to see this wedding through to the end. And he'd never let the hard work and efforts of their wedding plans go to waste.

It was just a ploy.

Brain took a deep breath. To lose his temper before the ceremony would surely spell catastrophe. He wanted to keep this an emotionally satisfying occasion, for Pinky’s sake.

“Romy, I won’t deny that your tactic was effective. But you will refrain from using my fondness for Pinky against me in the future,” Brain said.

Perhaps Roman Numeral One took after him more than he thought. It was impressive and aggravating at the same time.

"Sorry, Dad." Romy's head dropped as he handed the bouquet to Brain.

Like with Pinky, Brain just didn't have it in him to remain angry once an apology was issued. He transferred the bouquet to one hand and lifted Romy's chin from its downcast position.

"Look alive, Romy. This is a celebration," Brain ordered as he turned back to the mirror. "And Wakko, you're not touching our wedding rings with prawn-stained hands."

Wakko pulled out a kitchen sink from his hammerspace and started washing his hands without removing his gloves. With the soft hum of Happy Birthday in the background, Brain turned back to the mirror and examined himself one more time. They didn’t have long before the ceremony began.

His dress towed the line between simple and extravagant. Ruffles in the right places, but not so many that it would hinder movement. A small hole had been cut to fit his tail, carefully sized so that it was easy to thread the stiff appendage through. His sleeves cut off at the elbow, white fabric giving way to a delicate flower pattern, lending an elegant and dignified quality to the outfit.

It hadn’t been easy obtaining this dress. He’d lost track of how many toy aisles Pinky had dragged him down, and he didn’t want his outfit to come from the toy section of Walmart. Pinky had eventually called Dot for help, and with her connections, she arranged for a fashion designer who specialized in making clothes for dolls to help them out.

And while they eventually put the issue of clothes behind them, they had a fair number of arguments when Brain found a reason to reject all the dresses Pinky suggested. Especially with that gaudy puffed sleeve dress Pinky loved but Brain hated.

“I realize we must’ve been insufferable for the past few months,” Brain said. Planning for a wedding wasn’t anything like planning for world domination, as he learned the hard way. But it was Pinky’s wedding as much as it was his, and after one vehement disagreement, Brain had realized he was pushing out Pinky’s contributions to impose his own.

It wasn’t easy, but he did try to turn over some aspects to Pinky, just to see how he did with them. And Brain didn’t regret that choice, because the results were absolutely wonderful.

“Yeah, you and Ma were ruining my vibes,” Romy gave a lazy smile as Brain nudged him in retaliation.

Romy had said something similar when he’d first run away from home, but mischief had long replaced the anger. Though Brain still didn’t think ventriloquism was a lucrative career, he’d made his peace with Romy’s lifestyle while repairing their relationship. And Romy wasn’t the only one who derived happiness from working with dummies.

“Regardless, we’re grateful that you came,” Brain said.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Romy shrugged. “Better save your sap for the ceremony though.”

“I’m not being sappy,” Brain muttered out of principle rather than true irritation.

It was 2:55 pm. Five minutes until the ceremony began. He was running out of time.

He quickly fixed his leaf crown and attached veil so that it was less crooked. In years past, he never would’ve been satisfied until a golden crown with embedded jewels rested atop his head. But now he found the leaf crown was worth so much more than gold.

Then he made sure the transparent veil covered his face. The thin fabric didn’t hinder his vision, but he felt like he was looking through a lens.

Everyone would be watching him. He wanted that thin wall of privacy between himself and the onlookers. Seeing outside, but concealing his feelings within.

He didn’t have to. He knew he didn’t. But old habits die hard, it seemed.

The clock chimed three. It was time.  

What could go wrong?

“Don’t worry!” Wakko exclaimed as he picked up the purple velvet cushion with their wedding rings. “I didn’t mistake these for tiny Ring Pops this time!”

Brain was a fool. A sentimental, lovestruck, starcrossed, and twitterpated fool.

Wakko brought up the lead as they marched through the twisting hallways of the enormous property they’d rented for their Hawaiian wedding. Surprisingly, coming up with a location for their wedding hadn’t been difficult. After a stressful day of making other arrangements, they’d chosen a scenic, relaxing travel documentary to unwind.

As soon as the documentary showed a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset, they both agreed on making Hawaii the destination of choice for both wedding and honeymoon. Brain gripped the flower bouquet tightly, careful not to crush the petals between his fingers. Romy’s hand was on his elbow, light enough to not be intrusive but quick to react so Brain didn’t run into a wall.

He’d assigned Pinky to the task of flower selection, and Pinky had researched the meaning of flowers extensively with an unusual amount of focus. If Pinky had his way, he would’ve gathered one specimen of every flower in the world and brought them to the wedding, though Brain eventually convinced him to narrow his list down to a single digit range.

Brain was only familiar with the rose as a symbol of love, and he recalled the meaning of only two other flowers within their wedding. The rest were completely lost on him. The first was the magnolia, which represented perseverance. As such, a white magnolia stood proudly in his bouquet, nestled among the red roses of passionate love. Pinky had chosen the magnolia for Brain, and insisted Brain choose at least one flower too.

Though Brain didn’t place much stock in what the websites claimed, he just went along with it to humor Pinky. But he’d settled on the colorful freesia, just to thank Pinky for his friendship, faith, and trust for all the years they’d known each other.

Their miniature procession stopped at a glass sliding door that separated them from the rest of the proceedings.

Brain gulped and clutched the bouquet to his chest.

Beyond those doors, the wedding guests mingled with each other on the grass. A gorgeous, azure beach formed the perfect backdrop to the ceremony. White, fluffy clouds dotted the sunny skies, and the beauty was rather foreign to him. He’d spent far too much of his life hiding away in the darkness of a sterile lab.

It seemed the entirety of their Animaniacs coworkers had shown up for the wedding. He was surprised by the turnout, but it seemed that everyone had been clamoring for him and Pinky to tie the knot for years.

And while the usual toon antics were prevalent among the guests, Brain’s attention was drawn to the very front, where Pinky was arranging flowers on Pharfignewton, who’d jumped at the offer of being Pinky’s best mare.

Back then, the sight would’ve incited a feeling he’d come to realize was jealousy. Now he was just grateful that Pinky received some physical affection from someone when Brain couldn’t give it to him.

Wakko opened the screen door, causing a stir among the guests in the back, which caused a ripple effect that spread to the front and prompted everyone to take their seats. Pinky slid off Pharfignewton’s back, bouncing on his toes and craning his neck to see Brain.

Even from this far away, Brain saw Pinky’s bright, goofy smile. It made him regret keeping the veil over his face, cloaking his happiness even from his partner.

“Testing, testing!” Yakko said into the microphone. When he’d been ordained to officiate a wedding, nobody knew for sure. He shuffled through the cards for his opening speech. “Alright, everyone. We’ve all been very impatient for this moment, so no more delays, capiche? Dot, start the music!”

A hush fell across the audience, and even the most rambunctious members of the Animaniacs crew fell silent as a soft piano arrangement of A Whole New World began to play.

Wakko proudly held the cushion with the wedding rings over his head and marched to the front. From the aisle, Mindy reached into her basket and threw pink flower petals into the air, and Buttons held onto her so she didn’t fall out of her seat.  

Romy released Brain and followed Wakko. Pinky greeted their son with an enthusiastic hug, and Bunny flashed them a thumbs-up from her seat.  

All the attention was on Brain now.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.

He wanted to flee inside the house. Tell everyone to go home and they’ll get refunded the costs at a later date. Take Pinky to city hall and sign a document to make their marriage official instead.

The audience whispered.

He saw the worry in Pinky’s eyes, a stunning shade of blue that popped out from the beautiful Hawaiian beach. They were too far from each other to speak normally, but Pinky laid his hand on top of the colorful freesia pinned to his white dress shirt, just over his heart.

Trust me, he was saying.

And Pinky had proven himself worthy of his trust long ago.

Slowly, Brain laid his hand on the magnolia, the centerpiece of his bouquet.

I won’t give up.

Pinky smiled that soft, knowing smile of his. Emboldened by his encouragement, Brain stepped out of the house and onto the white, silky path that had been laid out for him.

He took slow, methodical steps to steel his nerves. This was his reward, and he was allowed to have it.

No more electricity, no more fear of rejection.

The happiness of having someone by his side. The sorrow when they were separated either by force or by choice. The surprise of receiving gifts from Pinky when he’d done nothing to deserve them. The guilt that came from upsetting Pinky with morally questionable schemes.

Emotions he’d once derided as frivolous were now precious and dear to him.

All the good, all the bad, and everything in between. And this occasion marked a brand new beginning, a new chapter of their lives that would bring new happiness and surprises. Though they’d be sad, angry, or terrified sometimes, they’d always be together.

That’s what counted most.

The melody of A Whole New World floated gently through the air. An airy tune filled with wonder at a world previously unknown to them.

He and Pinky dueted this song so many times that the lyrics and background instrumentals were permanently etched into his mind.

Only now did he understand what the song was truly about. Leaving behind their defined roles, into a freedom-filled sky. Just the two of them, exploring a huge world together. The burdens of the past and worries of the future left on the ground, and all that mattered was the present.

Being themselves, and experiencing things they’ve never experienced before.

It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

He could hardly wait.

Pinky waited for him, taking Brain’s hand in his own. He was absolutely breathtaking up close.

“Narf,” Pinky whispered, and Brain would never tire of that endearingly stupid word. “You did it, Brain.”

“All thanks to you, Pinky,” Brain replied, and Pinky’s tail wagged at the praise.  

Together, they walked to that beautiful wedding arch with intertwining pink and blue flowers, stopping in front of Yakko’s podium. Brain gave his bouquet to Romy so he could properly hold Pinky’s hands. Romy gave them a lazy grin, and Pharfignewton lowered her head so Romy could have a good perch. Wakko proudly balanced the cushion on his head, and Dot stood beside her brother, giving him a friendly shove without knocking the wedding rings off.

And Brain realized he was still seeing the world through veiled eyes. Though his vision was unimpeded, he’d barely noticed there was a filter among all his doubts and fears.

He’d kept the veil for a transparent amount of privacy when he walked down the aisle, but now that he was with Pinky…

Well, it just wasn’t necessary anymore.

He brought Pinky’s hands to the veil. Their eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between them.

Then Pinky threw back the veil, and the filter he’d been looking through was completely gone. And Brain saw the...no, he saw his world through fresh eyes.

A bright, happy, silly mouse stood before him, a colorful burst of freesia on his chest, and beautiful sky-blue eyes filled with endless love, promising hope and warmth and companionship forever more.

“You’re so pretty, Brain,” Pinky giggled.

It was the most wonderful sound for his compass, his heart, and his world.  

No more tolerating. He fully accepted the undeniable fact of how much he loved Pinky, and Pinky loving him back from this point forward.

Never before had he felt so much happiness, and he was ready for everyone to see it.

Unable to contain himself, Brain leapt into Pinky’s arms and kissed him. Though he heard their audience reacting with shock, it was all just background noise to him. And he’d never been a patient mouse.

Pinky was surprised at first, but his strong arms wrapped around Brain to support him, and he kissed back wonderfully.

Fireworks exploded in Brain’s mind, or maybe the Warners set some off, he didn’t know. But he had to come up for air, and he released the kiss, though it seemed Pinky could keep going for quite some time.

“Technically, you’re supposed to wait until I say ‘you may now kiss the Brain’, but who am I to stop true love?” Yakko grinned.

“Sorry,” the mice chorused, though neither of them regretted the little break in protocol.

The audience burst into cheers, and Yakko led them in a standing ovation for a good five minutes before they all settled down enough for him to start his opening speech.

“Love you, Brain,” Pinky whispered as he put Brain down and took his hands again.

“Love you too, Pinky,” Brain replied, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

Everything was laid out before them, clear as crystal and bright as day.

End AN: This is cheesy but I don’t care I love it and they’re married now. 

The Hawaiian setting is not a reference to the PatB fic Trouble in Paradise, it’s just that the last wedding I went to was in Hawaii and it was so romantic.

3rd time I’ve referenced A Whole New World in these fics. This song is just too perfect for them. 

[fishmongeringstudies]

scene two, aka whatever is left of this air conditioning unit

this evening i microwaved my first cup of kraft instant mac and cheese. the print on the side said to stick it in the microwave for three and a half minutes and then add in the cheese and stir vigorously, so that's what i did, but when i took it out there was a frothy boiling mess on the glass plate and an ungodly amount of water left in the cup so i poured out half of the water and added the cheese and 'stirred vigorously' and the whole thing tasted kind of like if you tried to describe the experience of going on a rollercoaster to someone whose only experience with transport is a horse-drawn cart, by which i mean it wasn't terrible, because terrible implies that an effort was made to be good. it is my humble belief that kraft instant mac and cheese has never aspired towards anything.

this morning i woke up sweating. the rooms in this dorm don't have a/c, but at least they have me. unfortunately they are likely to not have me too very soon, precisely because they don't have a/c. in hot weather a/c and i imply each other like a pair of lovers in a horrible codependent relationship that starts out on the best possible foot and starts to worry their friends and family when both of them go missing for three weeks at a time and are found in some dingy motel next to the movie theater drinking dorito-infused sprite while marathoning old animated barbie movies and eventually ends with one party riding off into the sunset on a stolen e-scooter and the other one becoming a fitness influencer on instagram. instagram is useful for some things like stalking people you might want to kidnap and stick in your basement for a few days and contacting friends who have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style text messaging. fitness influencers are not one of those things.

did you know? there were a hundred and forty-four freshmen on campus this spring. according to the corny welcome to the class of 2024 post on the admissions blog, there are three hundred and seventy-three of us in total. i stuck the numbers in the calculator app because i have progressed past the need for neanderthal-style quick math; that's thirty-eight percent. did you know? i've been a college student for a year now, and i've only met thirty-eight percent of my own class.

not to be dramatic, but i'm aggressively stirring another cup of kraft instant mac and cheese right now. not to be dramatic but i've stuck a body in your basement. it's a promise ring. what am i promising? i'm promising i'll come see you.

i think if i get a car i will feel like a real american. of course i will never be a real american because 1) i spent eighteen years living in singapore and 2) i have the spiritual capacity of a well-endowed british opera singer and 3) i don't actually want to be one but the idea has its appeals, like pretending you're part of a group with an identity that isn't an obscure gender alignment (chicken) you came up with on the fly (see? chicken). improvisation has always been my strong suit (for my january term class we had to post self-intros on moodle and for my interesting skill i said i was good at improvisational running. someone commented asking me what improvisational running was. i said i could start running at very unexpected times of the day, like in the lunch line or in the middle of an x-ray examination or while i'm brushing my teeth. this spring i've proven myself to be everything, it turns out, but a liar). forgetting where i started a sentence is also my strong suit. confrontation is not my strong suit.

maybe i should learn to drive. but who is going to teach me? every day we stray further from god, like little bath toys stuck in the pacific ocean getting fucked up by the dolphins, who have gotten bored with the lack of traffic recently and have decided to start their own acting troupe. i am writing this under the impression that there are dolphins in the pacific ocean. if i am wrong please do not correct me. ignorance is bliss. blocking the numbers of people who have set fire to your proverbial house (you live in a dorm room, after all, which doesn't count as a real place to come back to) in various interesting ways without meaning to is also bliss.

the mac and cheese was terrible. but all things are the first time you try them. like how your first novel is three pages long in papyrus font size fifteen on a word document your mom unearths a decade later when she's cleaning the hard drive on your computer. like how the first time you go to target by yourself you pin the wrong target on google maps and end up walking beside a highway getting blasted by fumes for half a mile instead of taking a nice cottagecore jaunt through the bougie neighborhood your school is located in. like how your first semester of college is this huge fucky clusterfuck of absolute horsefuckery that's so bad, even your older friends who've already done undergrad and grad school and passed out in a dumpster behind a denny's a few times in their lifetime are kind of impressed with you.

my first semester of college was a three hour dark souls speedrun. now we're stopping to enjoy the scenery. and what wonderful scenery it is! actually it's very bad. summer is boring because it reminds me of home and the geographical location of home is not itself very bad but i was very depressed for a while so the psychological associations will take a while to unlearn, like maybe five months or five decades. that's fine. i didn't come to america to get away from the monster under the bed. i am the monster. and now i am in america the world is the bed and did you know? i'm pretty tall. so it's fine. i'll break this bedframe. i'll shatter it to pieces.

05.22.21

[silvysartfulness]

I got tagged by @ameliarating and @veliseraptor to do this writer meme thing!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Six. I only started posting fic on AO3 last year. Before that, many long years ago, I used my own websites and LiveJounal.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

177481. The absolute majority of which is of course Heaven Has A Road.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3, only The Untamed.

But before that, I've written for Disney Afternoon's Aladdin, Slayers, Kingdom Hearts, Assassin's Creed, and one-shot fics for my own original verses as well as my friends'.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It at 1194, unsurprisingly. It's my magnum opus on AO3.

Blanket Statement at 302. The first fic I wrote for the Untamed, and the first thing I posted on AO3 (Thank you, Lise, for holding my hand and walking me through it!)

And To Many More at 169

High Noon In Deserted City at 96, which is sort of funny, since it's just a picture and about 1000 words. But the premise is fun! Still hoping for some hungry writer to adopt it and write something for it. :)

Self-Inflicted at 75.

Which checks out, I guess – the longest fic with the most readers comes first, then the fluff, then the funny and finally the angsty and fucked up. XD

I still suspect The Plotbunny of Doom / The Renegades for Kingdom Hearts would score as my all time highest, though, if LJ likes and comments translated to the AO3 format. That fic took me and two friends three whole years to write together, was 104 chapters long and over 300k.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really try! Comments mean everything to me, and I want to reply to them all! But when I'm low on spoons (which is unfortunately often) I fall hopelessly behind, and then the catching up becomes an impossible-looking chore in and of itself.

I should really set some time aside every day to catch up on the last few chapters' worth of comments... I do love the interaction and discussion a good comment can spawn!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm... I write a ton of angst, but only a few actually have sad endings. I'd say Eaten counts, as does Self-Inflicted, I guess. TPBoD had a very open ending that was still definitely on the somewhat hopeless side.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Mm, it's not usually my favourite genre (though I mean, the whole Kingdom Hearts verse is a crossover in and of itself) but it depends a lot on the source material. I guess TPBoD might soft-count, since we tossed in a bunch of non-canon references with all the world-jumping.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not as such? Oh yeah, I do recall getting a very upset comment on a non-con fic I wrote back in the KH days, by someone who couldn't conceive how you could claim to love a character and then write such horrible things happening to them. But you get those occasionally. Look, crushing my favourite characters is therapy. Doesn't mean I don't love them.

The Russian fandom are loudly aggressive in their comments on some chapters of Heaven Has A Road, but that's more focused on the characters, not me personally.

On the whole, I've been pretty spared. But then, there's little point in sending hate; I just block.

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Oh, absolutely. Haven't really gotten to that point in the posted chapters of Heaven Has A Road yet, but we're about to unleash it aplenty in the upcoming ones.

What kind? Most kinds, I guess? Soft and fluffy, aggressive and snarly, consensual, dubcon, non-con. Mostly mlm but I've written het, too. Can't remember if I've written wlw, but I've certainly headcanoned/drawn it. A bit of kink is nice.

I prefer focusing on the chemistry and sensations when I write porn, rather than detailed physical smacking and squelching and body fluids, but that's just my personal preference and writing style.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of? Not that I can remember? I have my art stolen regularly, and I've had my online identity stolen, but I don't think anyone's stolen anything I've written...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Heaven Has A Road is being translated into Russian, and I'm insanely honoured and flattered!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes – TPBoD aka The Plot Bunny of Doom, aka The Renegades, for Kingdom Hearts. I wrote it over ten years ago together with a friend and my now wife. It was a monster of a fic, I think about 320k, and the fact that we were three people helping and pushing and encouraging each other really helped keep it going!

I don't know if I would have the focus for something like it now, but it was an amazing experience I'll always treasure.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Oh man, that changes with each hyperfixation... I may have to say Marluxia/Vexen for Kingdom Hearts, simply because it's a ship that's been around in my life for so long. I still occasionally go back to read favourite bits of the fics I wrote for them, including TPBoD.

Currently it's SongXueXiao from The Untamed, of course, and a very strong contender overall! I've dabbled a bit in poly ships before, but this is the first time I have one as my main, and I'm love them.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Uh. I don’t really have any? Because of my burnout-brain, I can only really focus on one major project at a time, and that's currently heaven has A Road. And I'm really, really hoping I will be able to finish it!

It's all plotted out, I just need to write the stupid thing. Working on it.

What are your writing strengths?

Hm, I'd say that I've developed a voice/prose over the years that I'm actually quite happy with! And I'm good at conveying/invoking emotion, if going solely by how many people comment that I've made them cry. :D

I enjoy writing dialogue, and I love working with layers of symbolism.

What are your writing weaknesses?

The actual writing process. 🙄 I'm extremely uneven and unstructured in getting the actual words down. Also convoluted and inflated text at times - sometimes I write a lot of words without actually saying anything. And English is my second language, so just nailing the correct phrasing and grammar can be a headache at times.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If it impacts the plot – like the POV character not understanding it, then maybe. And using terms that can't be translated, absolutely! Other than that, there's little point in making a text harder for the reader to grasp by tossing in whole sections in another language for clout. Is my personal view, at least, of course other writers may disagree.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My first online fandom that I wrote fic for was Disney Afternoon's Aladdin show. Before that, I wrote original fic. And before that, before the internet was A Thing, I'd write and draw for stories that captivated me, just for my own entertainment. If you count that, I'd probably say Phantom of the Opera was my first – I had a whole ”everyone is a horse because that's what I know how to draw” AU when I was about 10 or so, that I'd draw lots of pictures for. When I was even younger, I used to make up stories for my younger brothers, based on movies and series we had watched together. I've always been a storyteller, one way or another, if only in my own head. I wouldn't know how not to.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I would have to say Heaven Has A Road, even though it's still unfinished. It's the first work of that sheer scope I have ever attempted by myself, and I'm honestly insanely proud of myself for what I have accomplished already!

Second would be TPBoD – The Renegades. Even though that was a shared effort, it's a very long fic that we managed to bring all the way to its intended conclusion, and I'm very proud of that, too!

Plus there are bits of both these fics I really like, and that I will go back and read for my own enjoyment occasionally.

tagging: @orodrethsgeek, @ebonykain, @fromaliminalspace, @chigrima, @soawen

[thebrownssociety]

Looney Tunes Headcanons - Off-Set, Part 2

This is a bunch of headcanons about what I think some of the LT’s are known for being like outside of the WB bubble. As there are a lot of them, it’ll be uploaded in stages.

References to homosexuality.

Porky Pig is well-known for being the off-screen face of Looney Tunes. Because Bugs and Daffy have a lot of filming commitments it’s Porky who attends Toon-town related things on behalf on the Looney Tunes. 

He’s judged fashion shows, cooking shows, car-races [Toon Town has a lot of car races. They have a lot of different terrains which provide a wide variety.] and Variety Shows. Unfortunately he’s also had to uncover various episodes of cheating during these competitions. [No, you C-C-CAN’T take a magic potion which g-gives you a p-p-perfect voice in a sin-sin-sing - vocalising competition!]

Porky is also known for being one half of the original Looney Tune Power Couple. Him and Petunia have been together forever and during that time, although they have had disagreements they’ve never been that serious. They split up once in the late 40′s and that was due to [unfounded] rumours about Petunia dating Elmer Fudd. [Of all toons!] They laugh about it today, but at the time it was rather difficult. 

He’s also the one who sticks up for the other looney tunes, major or minor ones, and in the olden days was well-known for challenging the producers the most. There was one famous incident in about the 70′s when Rocky and Mugsy were accused of having committed a series of well-known burglaries. Even when the rest of the LT’s were convinced they’d done it, it was Porky who was saying ‘Just because they’re t-t-thieves doesn’t m-m-mean they did this crime!’ Unfortunately it turned out Rocky and Mugsy HAD done it, but the thought was there.

Five opinions he’s well known for having:

1 - Just because we act a  certain way on screen doesn’t mean we have to act that way off-screen. [That being said, he doesn’t get drawn into arguments about what a toon is doing off-set. Reporter: ‘Pepe Le Pew has taken up cooking! Do you think it’s wise having a skunk in the kitchen?’ Porky: ‘A-a-as long as he can do it without b-bur-burn - destroying the place, I don’t care!’]

2 - Every toon deserves an education. [Porky is also off the firm opinion that there is no such thing as a ‘stupid’ toon, or one who is completely incapable of learning at least the basics of education. This opinion has been tested on many occasions but he still has it.]

3 - Petunia is amazing, fantastic, awesome, brilliant and the love of my life. Did I mention she’s amazing? 

4 - Everyone should go abroad. Porky loves travelling and has a wall covered in pictures of places where he’s been. He also likes buying hats from the countries [in a reference to his first short ‘I haven’t got a hat.’ now he has just shy of one for every day of the year.]

5 - Just because a toon isn’t working anymore doesn’t mean they aren’t a toon. To this day Porky is still in touch with Beans, Bosko, Honey, Oliver Owl, Foxy and Roxy and supports their endeavours. [Namely, Bosko and Honey’s restaurant, Oliver's mechanics, Beans chimney sweeping and Foxy and Roxy’s low-key acting gigs.]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elmer Fudd is known for a variety of things. In the olden days it was his extremely good acting skills, reserved - but not shy - personality and his debated relationship with Petunia Pig. [There was never any romance between them, just very good friendship and a deep level of understanding of one another.] Once Porky and Petunia got engaged he was an ‘established bachelor’ [despite being less than 21 at the time, it was more the fact he showed absolutely no inclination towards a romantic relationship with anyone that put him in that category.] 

When he was 24 [1959] it came out that Bugs loved Elmer. Elmer admitted he felt the same way and a relationship started. [Details of this can be found in my ‘Unsolicited’ Fanfiction.] It was quite an unusual relationship due to the fact they didn’t live together, didn’t spend a lot of time together [mainly due to a mix of filming commitments] and didn’t go out of their way to show affection publicly. 

They got engaged in 1982, then married in 1992. Both events were well-publicised in Toon Town. 

Aside from his relationship with Bugs, he’s known for surprising everyone by proving to be very smart when the toons were allowed to access proper education. As well as a teaching degree, he’s got a degree in Law. [Much to everyone’s surprise.] It only took him a decade to get up to an High School level of education, and he passed with flying coulors. [Despite a snooty human-teachers best efforts]

Five opinions he’s well known for having:

1 - Daffy Duck is not an idiot and is actually very clever. Elmer has been of this opinion since he first met Daffy and despite multiple instances when Daffy has acted like the dictionary definition of a complete and utter nimrod, he’s been unwavering in this belief. Thankfully when the toons got access to education Daffy proved Elmer right and gained a degree in Performing Arts. 

2 - Opera is brilliant. Elmer loves all kind of music [excluding heavy metal and some raunchier pop songs.] but opera will always remain his favourite. It’s one of the many things that bonded Elmer and Bugs. Elmer’s favourite song is ‘I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major General’ but his favourite musical is ‘The Phantom Of The Opera.’ 

3 - No one is a complete idiot and everyone should be encouraged to learn. Due to his own experiences of being treated like a complete imbecile by pretty much everyone - even Bugs has been known to do this on a few occasions - he does his best to be nice to those who are also utter idiots and encourage them. Unfortunately, like Porky, this approach has been tested to breaking point. Two words: Pete Puma.

4 - In the same vein, Books are brilliant. Elmer is a massive fan of reading and reads a wide variety of stuff. He reads non-fiction on a range of subjects [Cooking to real-life crime] and he also reads fiction again, over a variety of genres. [Crime, Romance, historical fiction, children's books, the works.] Elmer normally aims to read for at least 30 minutes twice a week. It used to be more, but parenting, filming and The Looniversity have restricted the time he can devote to it by quite a margin. 

5 - Everyone should be given three chances. Elmer does his best not to judge someone when he first meets them, especially if they’re acting like a bit of an asteroid. The second time he forms a bit more of an opinion, but normally keeps quiet about it [except to Bugs, Daffy and Porky.]. Third time he meets you he’s got a good idea of what you’re like and how others are reacting to you. Then he decides whether or not he wants to be around you. Once he’s made up his mind it’s very hard to change it. 

The main exceptions to this rule have been the Tiny Toons. Seeing as they’re literally little version of Elmer’s family [and he’s parenting three of them, namely Elmyra, Buster + Babs] he’s cut them a lot of slack. 

[cosmiciaria]

Assasin’s Creed III Remaster review - Spoilers! - Long post!

I wanted to keep this spoiler free, but as this game is such a narrative experience, I don't think I'll be able to. I'll try to keep them at minimum, but be warned: there are major spoilers ahead. By the way, this game is almost a decade old, so y'all had plenty of time to get spoiled beforehand. And if you're reading this, it's because you like this game and you probably know how it ends.

Review under the cut because this is way too long. 

As always, I express my feelings and impressions regarding my experience with a game – I write it because I like writing reviews instead of, I don't know, recording a video for YouTube. I'm not a YouTuber and I feel safer behind a keyboard where people don't point out about my weird accent (the accent every Hispanic person has when they speak English). Since the pandemic started, I found refuge and comfort in AC games, with Syndicate being my first contact with the franchise, and Unity solidifying my love for it. I found strength and weaknesses in all the installments I've played, which are almost all of them by now (excluding the first AC with Altaïr, the new saga with Origins, Odyssey and Valhalla, and Rogue). I've also platinumed three of those games I've played, and I'm on my way to platinum this one, so I think I can speak from a deep fan standpoint by now.

Since Syndicate, I studied from up close each of the protagonists of the mainline games. I felt drawn to Arno because he looked like one of my oc's (and his girlfriend looked like my oc's girlfriend as well); I wanted to learn about Ezio because he's a fan favorite; I wasn't at all impressed by Edward but ended up growing fond of him; I respect Altaïr for what he means to the Brotherhood; but I can safely say, that I haven't felt as attracted to a main AC protagonist as I felt with Connor.

From the moment I knew he was a native American (such a bold choice, it seemed for me) I felt instant attraction – but not the, idk, physical (he's a cutie I give it to you), but because of what he could bring about as a main character. A perspective we don't usually get to see, and personally, as I'm not American, a point of view to educate me on a different side of history. I wanted to see what they could do with him as the star of the game, I wanted to play with him and understand how someone like him could rise up and become a protagonist of such a well known and beloved saga of games. I applaud this decision from Ubisoft, whether they did it because they wanted to look progressive or not, I don't care, I'll always cherish that the protagonist of a famous videogame is a Mohawk. And with the American Revolution as the main stage, no less. Such an important scenario to strengthen the virtue of independence, patriotism and love for a country, going hand in hand with a character that represents America even more than the Founding Fathers.

(Also I'm a Hamilton Fan Trademark so I couldn't stop singing random parts of songs while playing this game, it was a nightmare every time Lafayette appeared on screen because I JUST HAD TO start mumbling Guns and Ships)

I lunged blindly into this game – I'd only spoiled myself the very ending because I played Black Flag before – so imagine my surprise when I first saw Haytham, Connor's father, as the main protagonist.

So here's the deal. Let's clear this out of the way.

I thoroughly enjoyed the game. It was what I expected and more.

But.

Yes, there's always a but in AC games, you know the drill.

As I kept playing with Haytham, charming though he was, I kept thinking to myself "ok but when does Connor come into play". I also already knew Haytham was a Templar, so the end of the first few sequences didn't catch me by surprise – actually, what caught me by surprise was that there was no mention of Assassins or Templars during the "prologue" with Haytham, instead you're left to believe they're all Assassins until he prays to the Father of Understanding and you realize with a gasp "oH NoO!".

You play with Haytham the first three sequences. One of these have the most memories out all of the sequences more or less. This whole thing can take up to three to five hours depending on how much time you wish to put into exploring or completing the optional objectives. And still no signs of Connor.

Connor does come eventually – as a child – by sequence 4. It's not until the end of sequence 5 that you get to play as (almost) adult Assassin Connor, so maybe five or six or even seven hours into the game and you're barely starting.

I know what they did here. I understand. And this is what I meant when I said they were going for a 'narrative experience'. To make you play as Haytham before, to lure you into a false sense of safety believing he was an Assassin working for a just cause, to make you feel invested in his relationship with Ziio – only to discover he's one of the bad guys, that will eventually give birth to our true hero of the game – it sediments everything perfectly. It tells you everything you need to know to understand these characters and their motivations. I can see where they're going and some of it can be quite predictable, but it was done right. On the narrative aspect at least.

I got used to Haytham by the time we switch to Connor, we're used to his cloak and his three pointed hat – his accent, his sassiness, his everything. You grow fond of him and you think, hey, maybe it isn't so bad to not play as Connor, I can roll with this – until the sudden change happens. The game completed its purpose: let you know and care for Haytham, only to strip him away from your hands and bring you the real protagonist with an interesting background that didn't need to be told, but it was instead shown to us players. What a better way to tell a story.

But the problem is – most of Haytham's memories are fillers. For starters, the very first memory where you appear in the opera house (similar to that one at the end of Black Flag… mmm) serves as a tutorial for climbing and killing with the hidden blade. Then the whole memory on the ship to Boston – completely expendable and removable, the story doesn't suffer from it. All the memories used with Haytham as tutorials – how to shield from an open line of fire, how to use ranged weapons, how to sneak and find stores and viewpoints, how to use horses and walk on snow, fricking Ben Franklin – everything, everything could've blended in better. You could still tell the story you wanted in only one sequence playing with Haytham, and end it the way it does end in sequence 3, without avoiding any important detail to frame Connor's backstory as well – but instead, this part with Haytham does feel like it overstays its welcome, and by the end you're just hoping it ends soon, it drags on for too long, and there's no real sense of thread pulling the strings together here, everything just kind of 'happens'.

But the never-ending prologue doesn't end there (badam tum tsss), because Connor still isn't an Assassin. Connor is not Connor actually, as I had been led to believe prior to playing this game: his real name is Ratonhnhaké:ton, which I wish it was used more often than it was. Ratonhnhaké:ton is like four or five years old when you first play with him, and his village is assaulted by what we assume are Charles Lee's men, a Templar and companion to Haytham. Ratonhnhaké:ton swears revenge upon these putrid British invaders and he grows up resenting the death of his mother, who died in the fire provoked by these Templars.

Not even knowing what a Templar or an Assassin is, Ratonhnhaké:ton is sent by one of "the spirit guides" (actually, Juno, one of the Precursor people) to seek the Brotherhood. When he's around 14, he sets out of his village into the wide world and finds Achilles, who will become his Assassin mentor – that is, after completing a set of tasks that yet again seem to go on forever. Ratonhnhaké:ton turns into Connor to cover his true origins, a name I thought it was random, but by the end I realized how wrong I was.

It isn't until Connor turns 17 that he becomes a fully-fledged Assassin – and you might think, well, Ezio became an Assassin at the same age – yes, but it didn't take him five sequences to reach there. I can't believe I'm defending Ezio.

It's not that I didn't enjoy playing as Connor when he was a kid, no, and I also don't think that part of the game should be skipped since it shows his people, family and friends – maybe comprised, yes, into only one sequence – the real problem here is the fact that first you need to play what could be considered the longest prologue ever, even longer than Kingdom Hearts 2's one, and you're teased with grasping the real protagonist but no, because there's still more 'prologue' to cover with Connor's rise to the Brotherhood. The real, real story, begins in sequence 6, and even then you still have a lot of tutorials to listen from the NPC on duty.

And if you do the maths – you're halfway through the game – halfway! – and you're just starting. The game has twelve sequences and the meat of the plot is on the last six. Then, why did I play all the previous parts?

For the 'narrative experience' thing I talked about. They wanted to lay the groundwork for a better, compelling storytelling, and I can appreciate it, but not when it hinders the pace of the game this way.

That is, certainly, my biggest issue with the game. The pace. If you're going to give me such a slow start, introducing characters non-stop, and only give me resolutions, discoveries and action packed sequences on the later half, then the story isn't balanced at all – I understand that at some points you need to slow down and sink in what's going on; you can't also introduce ten characters in one cutscene because that's just bad story telling – but the memories of this game are clearly not well organized and weren't thought with the player in mind, but rather with the story in mind. To think that the first mission you do as a full Assassin is to receive more and more tutorials on how the fast travel points work and how you can lower your notoriety (as far as gameplay goes in this mission, it's only walking around at a slug's pace to follow the NPC giving you instructions) it does feel like a slap in the face after all the things and hours and effort you put into it to finally reaching this point (which, I remind you, it's by sequence six!).

It's at this point where I can't blame people for not following through with this game. I have plenty of friends who abandoned it even before reaching this part. And I found myself having trouble to return to it: I only wanted to go back to it because I knew I had to like Connor, I knew he wouldn't disappoint me as a character.

Boy, was I RIGHT!

Now, to be honest, I may be biased, like I said: I was instantly attracted to Connor due to his backstory and I wished to see what he could bring to the table. And I have to say, he didn't disappoint me at all.

Maybe you know or maybe you don't, but up until this point, my fave Assassin was Arno: he showed weaknesses and he suffered the consequences of his actions, to the point of no return, that rendered him vulnerable and a mere human being. And I love me a good vulnerable character who knows their limits and strives to get out of that pit. I love me a good, compelling character that has growth and agency and isn't made of cardboard or has a one-dimensional personality. And Connor delivered on this front.

Connor might very well be my new fave Assassin. I'm sorry, Arno. I still love you babe. But Connor… I never found myself rooting for a character more than I did with him. I wanted him to succeed, I wanted his people to be saved, I wanted to see his ideals become a reality – and he's got so much agency, he's a storm when he comes into a scene, his naivety mixed with the brutality of his killings, the simplicity of his reasonings – he's an idealist, and he fights for it, whether we like it or not, and that devotion to his own creed is at least respectable, let alone admirable. He's never downplayed for his upbringing or his ethnicity, he works among the most notorious people as if he was another one of them, he's well respected in his community, he shows kindness and always offers a helping hand to those in need, but never doubts to plunge his blade into this opponent's throats, fearlessly, he doesn't mind telling George Friking Washington to shut the hell up and not follow him because he'll kill him (there's such a pleasure in a native reprimanding enslaver Washington) – he's, simply put, a great hero.

I've seen many complain that he's boring, or that the actor who played him, Noah Watts, delivered lines in an emotionless way – the only thing that could make him 'boring' is the fact that he's not a lady's man like Ezio was, and to my eyes that's a plus. He speaks slowly and modulates well in English because that's not his mother tongue, and I can appreciate when a company puts these little details, like his way of speaking changing throughout the game as he gained more confidence with this new language he was learning to use. As non-English native speaker, I certainly can commune with the feeling of adapting my tongue and my brain to a new language, and I also know that I speak weirdly to those who are native, maybe I don't have the same intonations, and maybe I sound emotionless as well, who knows, but I can't think of a better portrayal of a non-English character speaking English in videogames than this one. They remained faithful to his culture, and even though I noticed Noah didn't speak Mohawk as fluently as English, I can still feel pleased with the fact that Connor speaks in his mother tongue in all of the scenes he interacts with Mohawks (that's something they did better here than in Unity, where not a single character has even a French accent. I switched the language spoken to French in my subsequent playthroughs, much to my disappointment, because I really liked the Canadian actors). I know subtitles may seem threatening to some, but I wish they did this more often: deliver more lines in the original language of each of the protagonists. It shows care and respect. And I think this game excels at respect.

So, yes, I liked Ratonhnhaké:ton, as you can see. Maybe a lot. Too much.

I also really, really enjoyed his relationship with Haytham.

When Haytham appears back in to the fray it's when the plot picks up. Their interactions are gold: I love the rivalry, I love that Haytham is constantly testing his son, and I love the tiny bits that may show or make us believe that Haytham has a soft spot for him – I love that we never truly know what's going on through Haytham's mind, why does he do the things he does – but what I enjoyed the most about these two fighting together is the fact that they represent opposing forces, a clash of interest, and they bring back the concept of the blurred line between the Templars and the Assassins, their different methods. Haytham represents the collectiveness of the Templars, through him we learn of what they truly uphold as right and just, and behind some of his reasonings you can see sense and understanding – you comprehend his goals, you get to know your enemy, your antagonist, which is something, for instance, the Ezio trilogy lacks (because Templars bad bad pium pium die Templar bad guy) and Unity and Rogue tried to do but ultimately ended wasting its potential. I never understood Templars more than I did through Haytham, and sometimes I found myself nodding at some of his statement, like 'hey… huh… he's not that wrong about this…'. But still, we're led to believe that the good guys, the Assassins, are never wrong, so we pull through with Connor – only to realize that yes, Haytham was right in many aspects, and yes, Haytham has lied to us and he needs to be stopped.

It's here when my love for Connor reached its ultimate stage: when he denies both his father (Templars) and Washington (for whom the Assassins were working). It's here where you see the true agency of this character. It's not black or white, as Ezio's games were; it's not that he was expelled against his will from the Brotherhood like in Unity; it's not that because of a clash of interest now he resorted to the Templars, like in Rogue; no, it's the philosophy of the very first AC game with Altaïr: Templars and Assassins are one and the same, they only differ in their methods, and when Connor comes to this realization, his struggle is visible and he puts his people first. Like always.

He remains true to his personality. He's grown, he's seen the truth, but he must make a decision. And after all, we're here because we want to see him protect his people. That's his real main driving force and we root for him because of it.

Now, I've spoken a lot about our main character. But, what about the secondary ones?

Achilles, Connor's mentor, hides more than he's willing to share – but slowly his backstory unfolds. In his homestead, Davenport, you're able to build a community with different townsfolk that you can invite to live with you through special sidequests, which combine plot and gameplay seamlessly. Through the homestead missions, you get to know Achilles and the other inhabitants and you see them thrive and grow into a tight-knit community close as family. I daresay that these missions were my favorite out of the whole game, and seeing the town grow not only in NPC's walking around but also in sounds, steps, people working and laughing and dogs barking and kids playing, gave me all the fuzzy and cozy feelings of a warm blanket in winter. Most of Connor's innocence and kindness is shown through these missions, and there are also some really good jewels hidden there, like the quest that asks you to guide the pigs back inside – damn. This game gave me very good laughs.

On a gameplay level, this game is light years away from its predecessors – the parkour alone has been revamped and revitalized, making it more fluid. Free running now isn't a chore anymore. Now you can hunt, which is a great part of Connor's backstory and culture, so it's good to see they blend gameplay with plot like this. There's a crafting system that took me ages to understand, but thankfully I got the hang of it. The combat is pretty much the same (counter kills always for the win) and the difficulty remains quite easy, as the games that came before. I wasn't looking for a challenge so I'm fine with it. Now, if you're looking for a challenge… the optional objectives got it covered for you. Because, good lord, they made these stupid main missions so much unnecessarily HARDER and IMPOSSIBLE to complete without having three or four ragequits and sometimes you have to restart up to ten times. To be honest, I never found myself more enraged with the optional objectives than I was with these missions, and I thought Unity's optional constraints were stupid ass complicated, I was wrong. This game. Must be. The most. Annoying. Piece of videogame. To platinum.

Apart from the 'oh I want to die optional objectives' thing, you have naval missions – which, yes, you guessed it, take place on a ship – I guess they were testing the mechanics for a (not so far away) future pirate game, because I can see the seeds of what later Black Flag came to be. It's serviceable and it fulfills its purpose, but as I don't like ships much, I left it on hold for the endgame. 

If you don’t dig the naval missions nor the main missions, there’s plenty to do in this game: you have the aforementioned homstead missions, the club challenges (which can take... quite a while), the underground fast travel points (a nice change of pace, though you can easily grow tired of them), the liberation missions, which will see you help liberate a city from Templar control and recruiting a new Assassin apprentice, much like in Brotherhood and Revelations; taking Forts, hunting like there’s no tomorrow, courier, delivering items and message delivery missions, a ton of collectibles, etc, etc. 

You might realize I stopped talking about the plot by the time I reached sequence 6 – yes, it's because I'm a little upset with it.

I said that we're here because we want to see Connor protect his people and triumph against the Templars. Yes. We receive that, yes. Amidst. A thousand. History. Lessons.

In my Ezio's Collection review, I complained that in Revelations we were shoved history in the face – I hadn't still finished AC3, because then I would've mentioned something about it. Connor comes across all the important figures of the American Revolution in such a contrived way – he acts as a guardian angel of this revolution, aiding each of the emblematic characters that took part in. I can roll with it in my suspension of disbelief (how come this one person was present at every major event, you know), what I can't roll with is the fact that he was present at the Declaration of Independence – this is some Ken Follett level of bs of probability of something happening to a character. Besides, it's always latent though never truly explicitly addressed, but Connor's skintone was something that should've deterred him from even speaking to someone like Washington – let alone, be present at the moment they signed the Declaration. He does mention at some point that freedom and this new nation was only for white men, and that he acknowledged that slaves deserved as much freedom as everyone else was fighting for; I'm glad he addressed the elephant in the room, though I'm also glad they didn't make the whole thing about it, because normalizing a character like this as a main protagonist was the main idea, I think, when they chose a Mohawk to represent the American Revolution. Still, that someone like him was able to achieve all he achieved in a plot like this, it only means he has some kind of Main Protagonist Shield, otherwise I doubt this could've served as a realistic story for anyone else in the same situation as him. It's, uh, a little hard to believe, that's all. Whereas I can see Arno existing within the historical frame of the French Revolution, without being the one that let the guillotine fall on King Louis' head, this one was a little more far-fetched.

I haven't touched upon the Desmond part – the present day of this game is more, uh… present than ever. And I loved it! I loved it because it delved deep into the Precursor's lore, and also it fleshed out Desmond's relationship with his father, and we actually do shit with Desmond – though that part of the Brazilian stadium, huh, for a company that paid too much attention and consulted with experts on the Mohawks, they clearly left Brazil out of their investigations. I forgive them, they tried.

The music… didn't have as much personality as other installments, it was kind of there, and right now I can't evoke a single theme except for the main menu one, so there you go, it's quite forgettable for my taste, sadly.

I forgot to mention that: this game looks gorgeous. I played the Remastered version of the game, and sometimes it looked like it was done for the PS4 instead of being a remaster (it does look better than Black Flag which came afterwards!). Lighting is magical, the trees breathe life into the screen, the water effects are crystal and realistic; many times I felt like was horse-riding in a Last of Us game (yes, I just compared Ubisoft to Naughty Dog, don't hit me). Davenport Homestead is my favorite location, now more than ever, because it's not only beautiful, but it also means home.

This game accompanied me in a very important moment of my life: I sprained my ankle and I spent a week in bed recovering, while also pondering about my job and the prospects of my future; I took many decisions while playing regarding what I want for my life. I cried at the end because I realized I had become too attached to the characters and because I was so sad to see Connor keep losing things. It all comes full circle by the end. It's a very mature ending, maybe a little unfulfilling, but reality is often disappointing and not everything needs a happily ever after.

All in all, my major complaint goes to the structure of the game and the poor organization they gave to it (AND THE OPTIONAL OBJECTIVES DAAJKSDAD). But Connor as a character in itself made it all worthwhile for me. And I'll always cherish him. I know he won't resonate with everyone, but he resonated with me.