#these books because they ARE a pretty wild shot in the dark and if it lands then great but realistically most people won't like them

[stealingyourbones]

Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.

I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?

(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)

ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past

I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.

Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)

All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)

mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)

( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)

now back to the kidnapping:

[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]

Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.

I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.

[an-actual-attack-helicopter]

Book 6, Episode 3: The Frozen Ship Analysis/Commentary

Pretty atmospheric scene. And is that...whale sounds...? Yup, there a whale sounds all throughout this scene in the background. Fits pretty well, actually.

The Shadowpaw only breaks the ice after Callum takes Sneezles.

"Sup, i came here so that when i faint it will be your responsibili..." thud

"'Rayllum.' Seems like a nice name for a ship."

"I mean look at it. This ship is going nowhere!" Just wait a few episodes broski. By the end, Rayllum shippers are the only ones not sobbing like they lost their unicorn daughter.

Okay okay I'll stop with the jokes about this scene. We all get the gist.

Where the hell he get the sponge lol? If he got a wild one we would have to like sterilize it and stuff. And he wouldn't wanna harm it. Maybe they just brought it though.

Then we got Rayla crying over a romance novel. Seriously though, I think she relates to Skall. Like, after the two years she was gone, she felt that it was for nothing and she really just needed to be with Callum. And then...

Condrad, if you were here-

*KICKS DOOR* RAYLA RAYLA IM HERE- OWWW *PUSHES DOOR BACK OPEN* IM HEREEEE

Yet another example of how the animators and stuff played with lighting more this season. I can't stop talking about this. They've really improved.

"K I L L M E ."

viren in episode 8 be like--

Okay, there is no way Damian's respiratory disease wasn't related to Soren's. Maybe it was a virus spreading throughout Katolis. Buuut he said he had been living with it his whole life, and if Soren caught it you would think Callum would too. Maybe he did and he just recovered? Or maybe certain people are more susceptible to it. OOOOOR it's genetic and Soren and Callum are actually distant cousins. Okay, okay, I'll stop.

Anyway, I find it so funny how loudly Callum is shivering. Bro is trying to guilting her into sharing the blankie without having to ask lmfao. It literally comes off like that though--

Also, the scene where they almost kiss but Callum stops because he has to reveal something totally reminds me of a certain Claudium scene from season 2. Okay, enough Rayllum fluff, time for the pain. And the addiction allegories. Hear me out.

"I did cocaine again."

I mean, look at this. She even uses the word "quit." DARK MAGIC = DRUGS BASICALLY. Is it just me??? WHY ARENT PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THIS??? IT'S SO GOOOOOOD. The animation too btw, like DAYUM.

Imagine the pearl breaks and aaravos gets out and is like "bro why are my toes on fire" shbfhdghjjkhh

This combined with Rayla's theme playing in the background...am i a Rayllum shipper now?

Finally, we're back to Viren and his deluded selfishness. He claims not to plead for mercy, and yet, he rambles on about how he is better than he was before. Cool shot though.

That's about it for this one. More packed than episode 2, though.

[silentglassbreak]

Anonymous

Noah Sebastian x OFC

-

I had the 2nd part in my head already, so I started writing it. This post may go up pretty darn quick. If you've read so far, THANK YOU. Again, if you like it, and want to be tagged, Just lemme know.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, overall abuse, mild violence (ie. bar fights), smut, swearing, and altogether just a lot of fuckery.

+It goes without saying. This is a work of fiction. My words are mine. Plagiarism is a crime.

Part 2 - Running in Circles

Syd looked so much brighter today. It was refreshing. She had her makeup on, she was clear, like she had been sleeping and eating regularly. Sometimes, that in and of itself was the simplest of answers. It was the key some days.

She finished telling us about how she had put in sixteen applications at various employers since the last meeting, had been to the gym each day, and finally finished a 2000 piece puzzle she started three months ago. It was fabulous news, earning her a huge applause from everyone, including Noah, who I was halfway surprised to see again today. It had only been two days, but showing up again was a 50/50 shot with newcomers. Usually, if they made it to 5 meetings, they were in it for the long haul. I was extremely pleased.

He was also a lot different today, sitting back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest the majority of the meeting, but still more open than his last visit. Reading body language was crucial in this field, so I may have read a book or two on it in my spare time. His face also looked fuller, the dark circles now just shadows slightly casting his light skin and deep color eyes. He wore a white T-shirt with a red beanie, showing the tattoos off on his long arms.

His turn came rather quickly, and he sighed heavily when all eyes turned to him.

Before he could start, I chimed in. "Guys?" Everyone looked over to me. "Before Noah shares today, can we give him a huge round of applause for showing up to his second meeting?" This was met with fierce applause and a few hoots and hollers from our more spirited members.

"Great job!" Seth smiled brightly. Abel nodded his head pointedly.

"One of the hardest parts is coming back. Good for you, bud." I could see Noah's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiled, a smile bigger than I had seen so far. He was slightly embarrassed, but I could see his appreciation. Maybe even a sparkle of moisture in his eyes? He definitely pushed that down.

He reached behind his head nervously and chuckled shyly as the clapping died down.

"Thanks guys." He folded his hands in his lap, looking at the floor. "I was in the neighborhood, so..." He threw his hands up in a casual manner, causing some laughing from the group, including myself.

"How was the last few days for you?" I crossed my legs, eyes pointed in his direction. He didn't return my gaze.

"It was different. I haven't exactly talked to anyone about it." I only nodded. I wanted to encourage him to keep sharing, but I didn't want to pry too hard. "I don't know how to bring it up to anyone."

"That's fair. I think we all went through that."

He nodded, idly picking at his thumbnail. "I have a gig this weekend, and things usually get pretty wild after. I'm nervous." His eyes then looked up at me. I felt as though he was speaking directly to me, rather than to the group. Maybe he was?

Most people look around, avoid eye contact, and talk mostly just out loud. That's the purpose. Noah, however, was holding a conversation with me, and everyone else just happened to be within earshot. That was clear.

I would allow it, for now. If it eased him in, I was game for almost anything.

"Can I ask what kind of gig?" He sucked his teeth, a smirk creeping in.

"I'm in a band." I smiled now, because he was telling us (me) something personal.

"Oh nice! What do you play? Guitar?" His eyes snapped to Syd, who had chimed in. I could see this broke his concentration bubble, and I watched as his shoulders slightly drew in.

Although, he did not stop speaking. His tone did die down a little.

"I can play guitar, but in this band, I just sing." He cleared his throat, squirming slightly in his chair. "We were on tour earlier this year, and once it was over, I realized I needed help, so I'm hoping to make good progress before the next tour starts this fall. This gig is just opening for a bigger band."

"Must be some band." I added with a smile. This brought his attention back to me.

"What's it called?" Syd's voice was bouncy, breaking through the cool calm I had manufactured. I watched him almost visibly flinch.

"I'd rather not say." And with that, I could see he was done for today.

-

After the meeting, I caught Noah booking for the exit. I ran after him, donut in my hand.

"Hey Noah!" I caught him right before he slid into the driver's seat of his Navigator. "You didn't get a snack!"

He waved a hand at me. I still jogged up to his car. "I'm good Leena, thanks though." I sighed, stopping in front of him.

"Can we chat for a sec?" I saw him look down, likely questioning his decision to come back, but still shut his door and walked over to where I stood by the hood of the truck.

"What's up?"

"Did you get a chance to find a sponsor?" His beanie was pulled down low toward his eyes. He avoided my gaze.

"Yeah, uh, I actually didn't. Turns out everyone I know is into drinking, and I don't think that'll change anytime soon." I nodded knowingly.

"We've got great sponsors here, you know? Abel is a great resource, so is Rodger. They've both been in active recovery for more than five years." He narrowed his eyes, visibly stressed by the conversation.

"Yeah, I uh...don't really know them very well."

I couldn't tell you what possessed me to say what I did next, whether it was empathy, the sugar high from the donuts, the caffeine, or something else entirely, but I still opened my mouth.

"Do you want me to be your sponsor?" I watched his eyes widen at that, his head snapping to me quickly.

"You'd do that? You don't even know me."

I smiled my bright smile, and nodded. "Absolutely, at least until you can find another or get comfortable with one of the other members. I don't mind at all."

For the first time since we'd met, which wasn't long ago, admittedly, I saw a smile touch his eyes. Something told me that Noah hadn't seen genuine human kindness in a while.

"I mean, only if you want to. Maybe just to get me to the meeting next week?" I nodded.

"Of course. Happy to." He looked around, watching the people trickle out of the building around us and waved at Seth, who smiled at him before getting in his car.

"I do think we should take some time to work out a plan for your gig. These first few weeks in recovery are crucial."

He leaned against his car, chewing his lip. "You think so?"

I handed him the donut. He skeptically accepted it, and took a small bite.

"How long has it been?" He looked down then, a sign of shame.

"Five days." I nodded.

"And when is your gig?"

"Tomorrow night." I shrugged. I had work to do.

"You busy tonight?"

-

Noah sat back in the booth, sighing heavily, his plate clear. I continued shoveling pasta into my mouth, the carbs and the donuts being my only food sources today. Work had, once again, been hectic. I could see him looking around the restaurant, people watching.

Without warning, he leaned over the table. "You know, my girlfriend would kill me if she knew I was at dinner with another woman."

His statement gave me pause for a moment. Girlfriend. I hadn't even considered that. Ignoring the small, sinking feeling in my gut, I slurped my noodle and felt a twinge of guilt. I had no interest in getting him in trouble.

He must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled then. "I didn't tell her. It's no big deal, really."

I wiped my mouth on my napkin and swallowed a large gulp of water.

"Does she know you've started coming to AA?" He shook his head feverishly.

"No, not yet." This made me furrow my brow, suspicious.

"Where does she think you are, then?"

He leaned back, perusing. "Probably figures I'm out with the guys, shitfaced already."

It took me a second to realize, I didn't know a lot about Noah. I had no idea who the man was that I just shared a meal with, agreed to be his sponsor, and unknowingly risked his relationship.

"You know, if we're going to be working on your recovery, there's some things we may need to know about each other." He signaled the waiter.

"Like?"

"Well, for one," I smiled at the waiter as Noah politely asked for a dessert menu. Then, keeping my voice low, I leaned over the table. "I don't even know your last name."

I caught the way his eyes drifted over me, my chest now slightly exposed at this angle, my black hair flowing over my shoulder.

"You don't?" He seemed unfazed, but I did catch the bob of the bulge on his throat when he dry swallowed. I leaned back. This was not the game to play.

"No." I laughed. "You always sign in as 'Noah S.' What does the S stand for? Skynard?" This made him laugh loudly.

Through his chuckles, he choked out "Sebastian." He caught his breath. "My last name is Sebastian."

I nodded, satisfied with that. It was enough to Google if I felt so inclined.

"And you?" This made me stop for a second mid-bite.

"What about me?"

"Is your name just Leena? Like Cher?" This made me drop my fork, a hard laugh echoing between us from my chest. I saw his amused smile, which almost embarrassed me.

"Mileena. Mileena Richards."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Like, from Mortal Kombat?"

I nodded proudly. "Same spelling, different origin."

"That's fucking cool."

The waiter then came back, a large slice of multi-layered chocolate cake covered in a hot chocolate sauce set down on the table, two large scoops of vanilla ice cream and two spoons set down on the plate with it.

"Wow."

Noah shrugged sheepishly. "I heard sugar helps with the cravings."

-

We walked out of the restaurant, the night nice and chilly in the February air. We stood between our trucks, full and exhausted.

"So, we didn't come up with a game plan."

I nodded, leaning my head back on the door of my Tahoe. "I'm sorry. I was starving."

He returned it with a rub of his stomach. "Same. It's fine."

"You said in group that the usual thing is to go out and party after the show, right?" He nodded. "What's the chance of just heading home afterwards? Claiming you're tired?"

"Slim. We have the show. Then meet and greet. Then we all typically hang out in the green room. Do some shots. Then hit a bar." I watched his face downturn, as if he was admitting to a crime.

"Okay. And being in a bar is a big no no for right now." He sighed, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm not ready to tell them." I reached over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his body slightly lean into the affection, only for a second.

"That's okay, Noah. We can make it work." I wracked my brain for ideas, but was sincerely lost for ideas. "Can you tell them you don't feel well?"

He put his hands down and leaned back against the door, looking defeated. "Maybe? It would need to be a pretty good disease to get me out of the after party."

This made me smirk. "You ever had the stomach flu?"

This made him chuckle. "You want me to vomit onstage?!" He feigned shock and disgust.

I laughed. "No, it doesn't need to be that dramatic. After the meet and greet, you just tell everyone you have to use the restroom, spend way too long in it, and then tell them you need to go home. Pull at the skin on your face a little, make yourself look flush. Make sure you're sweaty."

"That's a given after a show."

"You never did tell me the name of your band."

He smiled wickedly. "It's probably not your vibe?"

I lifted my chin proudly. "Try me."

"Metalcore?"

"Architects? Falling in Reverse? Ice Nine Kills? Bring Me The Horizon?" I began listing them on my fingers.

He pointed at the name of the last band. "We're touring with them some time next year."

My jaw dropped. "You've met Oli Sykes?!"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I hear he's a really cool dude."

"Noah, how big is this band you're in?"

"Not too big, just me and three other guys."

I rolled my eyes. "Not what I meant." He laughed then, acknowledging his smartass.

"Maybe you should come tomorrow?" This took me back. The idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

"Seriously?"

His tone became excited. "Yeah! Why not? You can make sure I get out of there afterward, you can see us play, too. Maybe you'll hear something you recognize."

"Maybe I'd know if you just told me the name of the band." He laughed again, but my amusement was fading.

"C'mon, you can be my getaway driver."

"How am I going to get in, when your band is apparently a pretty big deal? I bet there aren't even tickets left."

He shook his head. "Nah, I can get you a VIP suite. So you don't have to do the mosh pits and all that."

This started to sound not so terrible after all. It had been a while since I had gone to a good rock concert. Life had been so busy.

"Can I bring a friend?" He smirked.

"Boyfriend?"

For whatever reason, I felt the inherent need to deny this immediately. "Nope. But I have a best friend who is really into metal. She just saw Bad Omens a few months ago."

His eyebrows rose, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, definitely bring her. If she's into that, she may like us."

I nodded. "Alright. Where is it?" He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, swiping away multiple text notifications before opening a fresh contact and handing it to me.

"Put in your number. I'll text you all the details in the morning, when I get them." I nodded and added myself in under Leena H. He nodded in satisfaction.

Then came this sudden awkward silence. I could tell he didn't know what to do next. Handshake? Hug? Salute?

This made me chuckle, when I turned and opened my car door.

"Goodnight, Noah. See you tomorrow." I got a sheepish wave in return.

-

Back at home, after a much needed shower and settled into my bed, I pulled out my laptop.

My curiosity was too strong now. Who was this band?

My Google search took less than a second to load.

Noah Sebastian: Lead Singer of Bad Omens.

I stared at my screen for a long time. I wasn't reading this correctly was I? There it was, in black and white on my screen. It was a joke, right? Noah wasn't...he couldn't be...right?

But there it was, his photograph plastered on my screen. That was definitely in technicolor.

I didn't know much by Bad Omens, but I knew their song Just Pretend. It was one of the most played in my shower, on my drives to work. It was one of those songs that resonated with you. I heard it first on TikTok, and was hooked on that verse. That voice.

No fucking way.

I pulled out my phone, completely ignoring the fact that it was clear after midnight by now.

Me: YOU'RE THE LEAD SINGER OF BAD OMENS????

It took about three minutes, in which I was absolutely not staring at the screen the entire time, before I saw the typing bubble.

Noah: LOL Bad Omens? Never heard of them.

This motherfucker.

Me: Noah! Why didn't you say something?!

Noah: I don't get to have fun once in a while? Wow. AA's kind of a bummer.

Me: Laura's going to lose her shit.

Noah: That'll be fun for you. Talk to you tomorrow!

With that, the conversation was over. I chucked my phone to the foot of the bed, stunning a curious glance from my hound Angel. I petted a silent apology on his head and he laid back down.

What the fuck. What the fuck?!

I'm sponsoring a fucking rockstar.

[gurugirl]

On Halloween Morning* ⤦ A Harry Styles Halloween One Shot

This was requested and was slightly inspired by AHS: Murder House

Evil spirit / Ghost!Harry x Reader

Summary: She didn’t believe in ghosts and he hadn’t seen a living soul in a very long time so he was quite hungry. By the time she realized she’d been wrong about ghosts, it was too late for her and he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. 8.7k words

Warning: DUB-CON, mentions and some details of death and murder, smut, choking, blood, ghosts, a haunted house, horror/scary/creepy and dark - this might not be for everyone- Harry is a ghost stuck in a house with his dead family (all ghosts). Consider what you can handle before continuing.

Reading through old articles to get herself acquainted with the story of the Styles’ house turned out to be quite intense. Some articles outlined the scene in more detail than others. Blood on the walls and headboards, and soaked through the mattresses under the dead bodies. A pool of blood under the oldest son, Harry, who's body was found at the kitchen table. She was just glad there weren’t photos (that she could find) of the crime scene.

The whole family was murdered on Halloween morning in 1968 and the son was the main suspect. Of course the police never found out who did it because all the victims were murdered as well as the accused, Harry Styles. DNA collection for evidence wasn’t a thing back then. No one knows what really happened that day, nor can they understand why the house is cursed, seemingly haunted and kept by the dead who once lived there.

But she wasn’t going to be deterred. Ghosts weren’t real.

October 30, 2022

She was too old to be entertaining this sort of thing. A dare. But she was stubborn and hated being wrong. So of course she’d take the dare and prove to everyone she was right. Ghosts don’t exist.

It was a dumb idea, but Rhea and Georgie both said they’d been in the house and were spooked by something, a ghost perhaps, they’d both claimed. Y/n rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“What? You don’t think that house is haunted?” Joe asked with a confused look on his face, as if it were preposterous to not think it was haunted.

Now, they were all in college, 20 and 21 years old among them. So, this shouldn’t have even been a topic. And it normally wouldn’t but Halloween was coming. So, it got brought up out of pure relevancy. Scary stories and strange occurrences were being shared, and it only made sense to bring up the supposed haunted house.

Y/n shook her head, “I can say with full confidence that the Styles' house is not haunted. No such thing.”

And that’s how she found herself climbing into the back window of the long-vacant Victorian style home with overgrown grass, and paint that had begun splitting and peeling away from the wood siding.

The insides were just as worn. Dusty. Some of the wood was deeply cracked and dried. The furniture, said to have been left behind by the Styles family, was covered with dusty sheets and pushed to one corner of the living room.

The house was massive. If not for the stain of the past, it would fetch a pretty penny and could be absolutely immaculate with some repairs and maintenance. It was a shame, really, that adults could let their imagination run wild and fear such things as ghosts.

Y/n brought a backpack full of things to keep her entertained as well as some snacks and water. She brought a book, her cellphone and a battery pack to recharge since she was positive the house had no electricity, a change of clothes, and her dildo. What? She liked to use it before going to sleep at night (when she was by herself) and figured in this big ‘ol house no one was around to catch her in the act. Unlike the dorm room she shared on campus. She rarely had a chance to use it freely, but tonight she would. There isn’t a soul around, she thought to herself.

When she found a nice enough area to set up, she went looking for couch cushions and blankets to make a pallet for herself. Yes, all the bedrooms had beds but she heard that everyone was murdered in their bedrooms and so, even if she didn’t believe in ghosts, she still couldn’t shake the creepiness of sleeping in the same spot as someone who was murdered.

This was a terrible idea. She huffed as she dragged some old couch cushions to the wall and could swear she saw something move out of the corner of her. Everything gave her the creepy crawlies. She found a linen closet with blankets and sheets which she was sure were all clean as they were folded neatly.

Settling into her little corner, the sun began to set. She texted her friends a picture of herself in the old house with the accompanying message:

To Group Chat: peaceful and quiet. see you tomorrow scaredy cats.

She pulled a blanket over her legs when she felt the temperature drop around her and then started to read from her book and snacked on saltines.

When the sun had gone down completely, and the light was a bit too low to read her book she put it away and picked up her cellphone. No one has texted her back. Which seemed odd.

She looked closer at the photo she sent and felt her blood run cold. It looked like there was an outline of a figure, a person casting a shadow next to her. She looked around the room and felt her skin pimple with goosebumps as a faint breeze hit her skin. There weren’t any windows near the corner she set up in. But she chalked it up to a drafty house. The shadow was probably just a lens issue from her phone. She pushed down any feelings of fear that rose in her.

Y/n pulled out her small lantern that was fully charged and placed it next to her pallet so she could see as she dug through her bag. She leaned against the wall and pulled up her favorite porn site on her cellphone and then and then got her dildo out. This would help her relax. She didn’t believe in ghosts or evil spirits or anything like that and a good orgasm seemed to be in order to calm her nerves.

She started to feel kind of exited, knowing how good it was to have her insides filled up with the silicon toy. It was a shame she didn’t get to use it as often.

Pulling her jeans off and spreading her legs, she began watching her favorite couple begin their show. She rubbed over her panties gently as she started to get into it as the scene played out on her screen.

When things began to get a little hotter and Y/n was thoroughly wetted and aroused she paused the video and then pulled her panties off from her legs and propped her phone up so her hands were free and she could still see the video. She grasped the dildo in her hand and ran it over her wet crease and moaned as she hit play on the video. She planned on being vocal tonight. No one would hear her.

She took her time, rubbing over herself gently. She couldn’t believe she was doing this in the old creepy house, but a girl has needs and she hadn’t had any action in a while.

Suddenly there was a noise. It sounded like something was dropped or a door closed. It was not from the porn on her phone. She stopped her movement and paused the video. She couldn’t see much past her pallet. The room was barely illuminated by the lantern as it wasn’t a very powerful light. The shadows on the wall and the silence was creepy. She knew she heard something.

Placing the dildo aside, she sat up when she heard something shuffle. Maybe a squatter was here? Fuck! She just wanted to masturbate in private. She hoped she hadn’t been seen or overheard. She even looked all through the house before settling in and saw no signs of anyone else.

She pulled a blanket over her lap so she could put her clothes back on in modesty in case someone was there when she saw movement from the side of her eye and a shadow move on the wall. She jumped at the sight and hurried to grab her panties.

“Don’t stop on my account.” A deep, raspy voice sounded into the room, much closer to her than she expected. Someone had been watching her masturbate.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’ll leave!” she had managed to pull her panties on and then grabbed for her jeans when she saw the shadow draw closer.

She was frantically trying to get her jeans right so she could put her legs into the holes when the person came into her view.

A tall young man with dark hair, no older than she was. She couldn’t make out his features as she was focused on pulling her jeans up over her legs, though she had been unsuccessful with the simple task at the way her hands were shaking.

He laughed, “You won’t be leaving. You’re far too pretty for that. Normally I don’t like intruders but for you, I’ll make an exception. Maybe let you stay with us. I could use the company.”

She paused her movements when he kneeled down right in front of her. His eyes were light green and his jaw was sharp. He was handsome but she was freaked out by his sudden presence and the fact that she’d been caught.

He reached a tattooed hand out and pulled her blanket from her legs. She was stuck in shock, unable to move or argue with him.

“Look at you. Don’t cover this up. Let me see. It’s been so long.” He smoothed a cold hand up her leg over her calf and she shivered under his touch. His curious eyes flitted from her panties to her face.

“I don’t usually make myself visible when the living come around. But for you, I needed to see. To touch.” He crawled over her body slowly, his hands never leaving her warm flesh. His palm slid up to her inner thigh where she was still a little wet from her recent activities. But she was fully freaked out now.

She shoved at the young man and launched herself up and without grabbing any of her things made a run for it toward the front door. Her bare feet were gripping the dusty wood floors as well as she could but her stride was affected and it slowed her down.

With her heart racing she turned down the front hall and looked behind herself quickly to find that the guy wasn’t following her. She made it to the front door and turned the handle but the door wouldn’t open. Turning around to check behind her for the man again, she felt along the wood for the deadbolt and turned the lock as she kept twisting the doorknob but the solid oak door wouldn’t budge. The light was too low and it was difficult to see in the shadows. She was sure she was missing something. The door should be opening.

Suddenly a hand was on her shoulder and she turned abruptly to see the man. She couldn’t make out much, but he was tall and much bigger than her and now she was terrified she actually wouldn’t be leaving like he said.

“This is cute. Haven’t had a runner in a while. But you are trespassing on my property after all, and that’s not nice. Leaving just isn’t an option.”

“Who are you?” Y/n gasped as his long fingers grasped her with more strength.

“I’m Harry Styles. What’s your name, doll?” He stood confidently above her with a firm grip on her arm.

He was the Harry Styles. The oldest son of the family murdered. She remembered the pictures now. When she’d googled a bit about the house before staying the night. There was a website that detailed the gruesome murders and a picture accompanied each member of the family.

Before answering him she yanked her arm away and ran away from the door and the man who stood next to it. As she went deeper into the old, dark house she tried to think of a way to escape. Going upstairs would be a bad idea. She needed to find another door on the first level, or even a window. At this point, she understood she was in danger. She might not leave this house alive tonight.

In the kitchen she opened drawers to look for a knife, or anything that could be used to protect herself. She found nothing useful in any of the drawers. Some butter knives, and forks but they wouldn’t do.

But then she neared a bench by the old stove and found a counter-top organizer with cooking utensils and one large knife with a long wooden handle. This could do.

She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the dark as she decided on which direction to go. The only window in the kitchen was over the sink and it would be difficult to climb out of. Her next move was to find an exit.

She quietly padded across the floor, hoping if she was quiet the man wouldn’t find her. It hadn’t quite sunk in that this man, Harry, wasn’t a man, but a spirit living in the house.

The hallway was especially dark and her ears were on alert for any noise but there was no sound other than the occasional shuffle of her own feet on the dusty wood plank floors.

A closed door near the end of the hall might be her key to escape. She turned and stopped to listen and will her eyes to focus in the dark, but the long hall had no windows to bring in the light from the moon outside.

She continued toward the door quietly and gently turned the glass knob, and with relief, the door opened rather silently.

She held the knife close to her body as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. There was no lock on the door. But there was a window and this could be her chance.

The room looked to be mostly bare. There was furniture covered in sheets pushed to the wall and the window still had curtains drawn. Moving across the room as noiselessly as possible, her breath held in her lungs, she pushed the curtains to one side and put the knife down on the window ledge so she could manipulate the window and open it. The lock latch at the top of the lower pane had thick paint over it but she wiggled it using any bit of strength she had and from the help of the adrenaline pumping in her veins she was able to free the latch and unhinge it, cracking the white paint apart.

She let out the breath she’d been holding and then slowly placed her hands at the bottom of the pane to lift. Of course, this window had not been used in many years, decades even, so sliding it up wouldn’t be an easy task and she’d probably need to make a little noise once it did begin to budge.

Her attempt at keeping the noise as low as possible slowed down her movements and made the task take much longer. She paused her work and took a breath as she turned to see the door was still closed behind her. Perhaps the man didn’t know where she was yet. But she needed to hurry before he found her again. Her skin prickled at the nape of her neck in a chill.

Putting her muscle into the motion of getting the window up seemed futile. The window was sealed from decades of non-use, getting wet, the wood expanding, then drying and contracting, the dust turning into paste and drying like glue. It seemed impossible. But she was determined. If she walked out of this room and into that dark hallway who knows what would be waiting for her.

She closed her eyes and huffed as she resolved to get the window unstuck with all of her might. Even if she had to make some noise, this was her best chance to escape.

She leaned into the window and put her palms at the base and then used her thighs to push herself upward in one fast and forceful action. The small glass squares in between each wooden slat clanked loudly and the window shook from its position, but it didn’t move enough to be close to allowing an escape. Perhaps only a centimeter. But now, at least the window was unstuck. She ignored the cold feeling of dread over her back that gave her goosebumps, knowing how loud she was being now.

She tried the motion again, using every bit of her strength to push the window up and the noise it made would have definitely sounded throughout the house. The wood shivered in the frame and the glass panes shook and clattered. And even with all that noise and ruckus, the window barely moved an inch.

“Fuck…” she whispered to herself. But she tried again because this was it. Pushing with everything she had, the window rattled and banged about and this time it slid up enough that she was able to stick her arm out of the window. Now perhaps she’d have enough leverage to get the window up further.

Putting her palms under wood at the bottom of the window she bent at the knees and pushed upward, the window slid open further and she was almost free. She knew she could fit herself out of the window if she did it once more, just a few more inches.

Repeating her actions, she pushed upward again and the window slid up nearly half a foot! Her heart was pounding and the room was still empty so she lifted herself up to the window sill and suddenly a realization dawned on her. The knife was meant to be on the ledge right where she’d just lifted herself.

She reached down and felt for the knife but found nothing and suddenly a hand wrapped around her calf and dragged her out of the window, where she fell to the ground with a dizzying bang to the head on the floor below.

“Looking for this?” The spirit held the knife down to her face and she turned to see the blade next to her temple. She didn’t plan on answering. Instead she kept herself on the floor as still as possible. She was running out of options at this point. Her window of time to escape was closing in on her. Dread filled her body.

Harry sighed and she could hear his footsteps around the room. He went to the window and she could hear him sliding it closed and then heard the latch replace itself into its rightful spot.

“You can keep trying, doll. However you try and choose to escape isn’t going to end successfully. We’ve all decided, it’s unanimous, you’re staying.”

Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her up to standing. She didn’t comprehend. This couldn’t be happening. Perhaps it was just a nightmare. Maybe she’d fallen asleep.

His strength was shocking as he pulled her from the room and then down the hall. Her bare legs were freezing from the chill in the air and she really wished she’d been able to put her jeans on in time. He brought her to another door and when he turned the knob she saw a person standing at the end of the hallway, a young girl, perhaps a few years younger than she was.

“Help me! This man is trying to kidnap me!” She frantically spit out as she watched the girl back away into the shadow, “NO!! Help! Please!!”

Harry laughed and brought Y/n into the room. This room was similar to the other one but there was a bed in the middle and a table at the headboard with lit candles allover. She tried to pull away but Harry’s grasp was far too strong.

“That was my sister. We’re all stuck here in this house. Kind of like purgatory. It’s me and my family, maybe a few others we’ve collected along the way, but they won’t be coming around, don’t worry. S’just me right now. The rest aren’t interested in you like I am.”

She shook her head. This wasn’t real. There was no way. This looked like some kind of sacrificial altar. A bed at the middle of the room with only a white sheet over the mattress and a small table with lit candles at the head. The room was dark along the edges, only lit at the center with the flickering candles. It couldn’t have been a creepier scene.

Harry released Y/n’s arm and she rubbed at the spot he had held tightly. Her skin would bruise surely. But that was the least of her problems.

Her eyes followed his tall frame as he moved deeper into the room, “So, you’re a ghost? Then why can you touch me and I can see you clearly? What’s going on here? Is this a joke?” She began to slowly back up towards the door. She didn’t think she truly could escape him but she wasn’t going to stop trying.

Y/n knew she must be losing her mind. Ghosts weren’t real and she knew it. This had to be a prank. Someone trying to scare her into believing in ghosts. It’s why she was here, on a dumb dare. Yes. One of her friends had talked this guy into playing into the haunted house thing. That had to be it.

But she could admit that he did look a lot like the Harry she’d seen in the newspaper articles online. And then there was the young girl she just saw…

“On the bed.” Harry motioned to the center of the room, his long, slender finger pointing toward it.

She shook her head, “No. Absolutely not. I just asked you a question and if you’re going to like, kill me or something the least you can do is answer me first.”

Her eyes fluttered between Harry and the bed flickering with the candlelight. Her heart was racing.

Harry sighed and shook his head, “You’re right. How rude of me. This is not a joke. I’m a lost soul. A spirit. A ghost. Whatever you want to call it. I’m stuck here in this house. For many years I’ve been here. Murdered. My whole family with me. The Styles family.”

Harry began to move toward Y/n, the candlelight revealing more of his handsome features (and she hated that she found him so attractive). “You may have read about it. Or not. I don’t know. I don’t get a lot of outside visitors. Heard a few things over the years.”

She watched him close in on her space until he was right in front of her with a smile and a heavy presence of something dark and dangerous. Cold. Inhuman.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits. Who are you really?” She continued to back up toward the door but Harry rolled his eyes when he realized she was going to try and escape again.

He reached a hand out and grabbed her neck tutting at her as he pulled her back toward the center of the room near the bed, “I know I look like a real man. Flesh and blood it appears. Fully functional. Everything is in working order when it’s time to feed. Just makes this all a lot easier. More pleasurable for both of us.”

Her heart pounded and her breath was caught. His hand on her neck was chilly but his grip was threatening, “What? Feed? And… I’m not what you want. Please let me go. Please. I won’t tell anyone about this and I’ll never come back here. I promise.”

Harry laughed and loosened his grip as he pulled her to the bed and forced her to sit. Her entire body was shaking. Her heart was racing and her vision began to fill slowly with red, dark around the corners, which could indicate she was about to pass out.

“Doll, you can’t leave. I know I told you and I know you don’t believe it but it’s already too late. Don’t fight anymore. It’ll be so much easier for you.” Harry walked around the bed and climbed up behind her, whispering into her ear, “You didn’t know it, but you came here just for me. You’re mine now. Okay?”

She was stuck, frozen in fear. The man put his hands onto her shoulders, and she felt him kiss the back of her neck. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes. What could she do? What could she say?

When he lowered his hands down from her shoulders to her arms he wrapped his hands around her elbows and pulled her back into his chest. He was solid behind her and she didn’t know what was to be expected. A knife to her throat perhaps? Maybe through her temple or into her back?

“I murder people. I murdered my family in this house, a sacrifice to Angra who possessed me and became free when I killed my physical body. He’s gone now, but I’m here and his spirit lives through me in this house. This is my domain. My body, a sacrifice to his greatness, and now your body, a sacrifice to mine.” His words brought a chill to her spine and she closed her eyes as he spoke into her ear.

“But I’m keeping your soul because I like you. You’re pretty and you smell divine. I may be sick and evil but I still need companionship. I’m lonely. My own family avoids me and all the ones I’ve taken and kept who’ve snuck in over the years hide from me too. But this time, this ritual will make you mine and you won’t want to be away from me when I’m done with you.”

Her heart was racing. She didn’t have thoughts that were linear in her mind. His voice vibrated over her neck and the words he spoke sunk into her ear and her brain, melting her stubborn resolve. She was helpless. It was unavoidable. The fate she’d walked in to was not going to be stopped. No one could save her.

When his lips met her neck once again she had a strange sense of relief. Maybe he wasn’t going to kill her. Maybe this would end with her being released and she could live to tell about it. His mouth on her skin felt too sweet for the words he was speaking to be true. She let out a small moan that confused her and made Harry smile.

The sudden sting of Harry’s teeth going into her neck made her gasp in shock. She jerked away but his hold on her arms was too strong. She couldn’t budge from him. He sucked at the spot and then she felt him lick over it as he chuckled, “See? That wasn’t so bad. Now for the good part.”

Freeing her arms Harry pulled her down so she was lying on her back. She immediately put a hand over her neck where he’d bitten her and then put her hand up to see blood on her palm. Her eyes widened when suddenly Harry was hovering over her.

“It’ll dry. Just a nip is all that was. Soon you’ll understand everything that’s happening here. Try and relax.” Harry lifted his shirt from his torso and it revealed a scattering of dark tattoos and a well-built body with broad shoulders. He was fit and lean, softer around the waist but not fat. His nipples looked real, with sparse hair spread over his pectorals and even his chest was rising and falling as if he needed air for his lungs. He couldn’t be a ghost.

“See? Told you. You can touch. I feel just like a living man, huh? Just wait til I get my mouth around your pussy. S’been a long time. I’ve really missed this. Need to taste and fuck. God I’m so horny.” He searched over her body and brought a hand behind her back and lifted her shirt in one quick motion, causing her to arch her back as he removed it from her. Then he quickly unhooked her bra, before pulling the fabric from her breasts.

“Mmm… so pretty. You came here just for me.” Harry palmed over her soft breasts and if the circumstance wasn’t so fucked up she’d be jumping his bones already. Harry was quite attractive. Seductive even. Very confident and perhaps a little cocky, but hot. She couldn’t deny it.

“How long has it been since you’ve had your pussy eaten?” Harry unbuckled his pants and pulled them down enough to free his obvious erection. It was just another thing that had her convinced he was real. His dick looked real. It was engorged with blood and it was long and thick, better than any dick she’d seen before. He wrapped his palm around himself and stroked upward toward the tip a few times. He looked good. It had her confused. He smiled as he watched her take him in. He wanted to show her what she’d be having everyday for eternity. Harry knew it would entice her.

“Uh… I don’t know.” She couldn’t think straight really. Dylan had tried to eat her out that one time but it was terrible and he complained his jaw was sore after only a handful of minutes. And then there was Aaron who gave it a good try but he couldn’t make her come.

“Well that’s not a good sign. You haven’t been treated right. Poor thing. Let me have your pussy in my mouth and I’m gonna make it so you never forget the last time you had a man eat you out. Gonna have you coming all over my face.” Harry slid his hands over her thighs and upward to her panties where he slowly pulled them from her body. She couldn’t believe this was happening but she also couldn’t take her eyes off the hot spirit’s cock either.

Harry sat back on his heels and looked down at Y/n’s pussy with a grin, “Still wet from earlier, doll. You didn’t get to finish what I interrupted. Don’t worry. This is going to feel so much better anyway. Gonna get you all sorted now, okay?”

He smoothed his cool hands over her thighs and then back up to her breasts before he leaned over and kissed her mouth. She hadn’t expected it, though none of this was expected. It was all a shock and totally had to be a dream. Yes. A dream.

His mouth was cool on hers too. But when he pushed his tongue past her lips she felt something blossom in her chest when he put a hand at her face, caressing her cheek softly. He was being gentle with her. Y/n slowly began to melt, relax into his touch and his kiss. It scrambled her brain and then she felt his heavy penis over her hip and involuntarily clenched her hole around nothing. This was turning her on.

Harry smiled into the kiss and then lowered his mouth down to her jaw and over her neck. His lips pressed soft kisses over the bite he issued her and then he dragged his lips to her clavicle.

He palmed at her tits and then wrapped his lips around her right nipple and looked up at her eyes as he sucked gently. Y/n’s breathing picked up as she trembled from something other than being scared this time, it was because Harry was doing exactly what she’d always imagined a good lover would do. Men rarely took the time to pay much attention to her boobs. Harry moved to the other nipple and licked around her flesh. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he drew himself lower down her body, his lips kissing a trail of cool, wet down to her hips. He settled himself between her thighs and pinned her down. He licked his lips as he flicked his gaze up toward hers and she noticed how foggy his eyes suddenly looked.

“Everyday from now on. This is what you’ll get from me.” He spoke in a deep voice, his pink lips looked so alive and warm yet they were cool on her body.

Harry groaned at the sight of her cunt, “Fuck… so plushy and wet and fragrant. I’m gonna eat you alive, pretty. Brace yourself.”

And when his mouth met Y/n's slick crease it felt like history in the making, already better than any living man. She gasped at his determined pace. His lips and tongue were skilled and she gave herself over to how it felt. His mouth was cool but he worked her like he knew how to eat. Slurping and sucking, licking and flicking. It was intimate and thrilling. The part of her brain that new this was wrong, that knew this was fucked up began to vanish and was replaced with a carnal need.

When she allowed herself to let out another moan Harry’s eyes were on hers and he smirked for a flash of a second but didn’t let up his work. He had a meal to eat.

She grabbed his hair as he kept his eyes on her, the light green slowly fading and it almost looked like his eyes had gone all white. She gasped at the way he felt on her and how hard he was digging in but his eyes made her sudder.

Harry pushed Y/n down harder and held her thighs with a harsh grasp and she yelped and tried wriggling from his hold, or to at least have him loosen his grip a bit. But then she felt something pinch and it stung when he bit down on her labia, breaking her skin. Y/n jumped at the feel and looked down but couldn't tell what he was doing and when he slurped her clit back into his mouth she moaned because, fuck it felt good. He was hurting her a tiny bit but at the same time, made her pussy feel like it was being worshipped.

Y/n looked at the way his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thigh and the marks that it was going to leave when he lapped upward with a flat tongue and she saw his eyes again. White, the green was clouded and she watched him flick her clit and closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she was letting a ghost give her cunnilingus, if that was even what was happening here. Whatever it was, it happened to be the best she'd ever had.

Harry loved that she was suddenly so compliant. It would make everything that was about to happen so much easier. But first he'd make her suck him, because the last time had been too long ago and he wanted the feel of a warm, living mouth on him, drinking him down.

He sipped at her blood mixed with her arousal and moaned at the taste. Delicious and warm and fresh. Living pussy was so much better than ghost pussy when he could get it. Which was a shame that he couldn't keep Y/n around longer in her current living-state, fresh with pumping blood and a beating heart. But, he needed to do what he needed to do. He was lonely and letting her go wouldn’t be an option.

It was a shock to Y/n when she felt the tingle of her orgasm spread over her center and down her groin. She began to writhe under Harry’s hold and she cried out when it hit her hard and Harry didn’t let up.

When Y/n came in his mouth he groaned just as loudly as she cried into the dark and dusty room. When he lifted his face she saw the blood on his lips and he quickly leaned down to kiss her lips hard, smearing herself all over her mouth, blood and all.

"What? Is that blood?!" Her voice cracked out and tried pushing him away but he was already grabbing her neck and moving her down flat to the bed again.

"Yes. Your blood. I only took a nip." He climbed over her torso and put his cock at her mouth and pressed the tip around her face to gather up some of the smeared blood that he’d gotten on her when he kissed her, just because he wanted to see it.

"Open." He said flatly.

Y/n was surprised by this, once again, but she figured saying no wasn’t an option at this point, not that she wanted to say no anymore. In fact, his pretty cock looked quite good. And also, if he was a ghost (which she’d slowly begun to believe) she'd rather just comply.

Once her mouth was parted and her tongue was flat, Harry slid his cock in causing Y/n to gag over him. He pushed himself down over her, he was knelt above her face, hand at the headboard behind her head as he watched his cock disappear behind her lips. He loved the look of her lips on him. And she was warm and wet.

He made long strokes in and out of her mouth and every time he slid his tip into her throat she gurgled and swallowed at his tip and he loved the feel of it. Loved a nice gag reflex. Ghosts didn't have a gag reflex like most humans, so this was nice. Meant she was fully alive and working.

Y/n squeezed her eyes clothes and tried breathing through her nose but it was hard. Harry's dick was large and long and his length was pushing too far down her throat, well, further than was comfortable. Further than she'd ever taken a cock before. Every time he'd move back a little she'd suck in a breath and then he'd plunge right back down into her throat.

Harry was enjoying the feel and sight. Her face was wet with saliva and tears and he kept up a nice hearty pace that he enjoyed watching as her mouth stretched around him.

When he felt her nails digging into the tops of his thighs he figured it was a good time to give her cunt a taste of his cock and finish her off properly. The ritual could begin.

He pulled back and grasped her neck again before positioning himself between her legs, moving them apart. He smoothed a thumb over her tummy and dipped it into her belly button. His already erect dick was standing outward under its weight, thick and ruby at the tip. It was a beautiful cock. She looked back to his handsome face.

She couldn’t take her eyes off his broad chest and the way his arm flexed as he stroked himself. It was as if he was a healthy man, with muscles, hair, vocal cords, a nice cock filled with blood and ready to be used. She reached out to touch his chest and he was solid, muscled, cool skin, beautiful.

“That’s right. Touch me, doll. I’m yours just as much as you’re mine.” He continued pumping himself. He noted she liked his cock as she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of it. So stroking himself in front of her seemed like a nice little show to put on.

“What are you gonna do?” Y/n asked quietly. She was breathing hard as she lowered her hand downward, feeling his cool skin, solid, real. He even came complete with a happy trail and dark hair over his groin encircling his cock.

“Hmm… what should I do?” He let go of his cock and leaned over her. With his newly free hand at her face, he rubbed his thumb over her cheek bone then slid his palm down to the front of her neck, his thumb at one side and fingers at the other. He didn’t put pressure on her neck but the sentiment remained.

“I don’t… know. Um. What do you want? As long as you don’t hurt me,” she breathed her words out.

“You want to know what I want? Well, I’m pretty sick, doll. Don’t you remember I’m a ghost? An evil spirit? But I like you so I’ll be gentle. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt. But I am going to fuck you and then you’re going to be mine.”

“What won’t hurt? What do you mean?” Y/n wasn’t exactly following. She never thought of herself as dumb but this whole situation was a mind-fuck.

Harry’s warm smile comforted her, made her relax again, “You’ll find out soon. But we have some needs to take care of right now, don’t we? I want to fuck you. Bet you’d like that, huh? Getting railed by a ghost instead of that plastic toy you brought. Thing about my kind is that I won’t come prematurely and we don’t need condoms. You’re gonna like this.”

And the way he slid into her had her moaning around the initial cry she let out. It stretched her out and split her down the center. It was a jolt to her system but then it felt like silky pleasure inside of her body. Thick and long, moving into her and wrecking her guts. It was immediate relief and sated needs.

His hand grew tighter around her neck and Harry’s hips glided back and forth in the perfect pace and at just the right angle that she could feel him deep and dragging over her g-spot. His thick head was pressing into unreached areas and then being pulled back to almost the tip, just to be plunged in again. Her little peeps had Harry snarling. He loved how sweet she sounded and he was feeling her human pussy clench around him just how he loved. God he missed this. But he’d have her every day from now on. Maybe not exactly in this way, but she would be his now.

“So warm and so tight, doll. Best pussy I’ve ever had.” He fucked into her a little faster. His torso strong and attractive as he worked himself in and out. She watched his body move over hers and saw his eyes lose their brilliance again, becoming clouded over.

She realized that Harry was either a ghost, or this was a dream. She was no longer under the delusion that Harry was human. Not with the way he was fucking her, not with the way he’d so easily convinced her she wanted this, not with the way he looked with those eyes and that cock. No. He was either a figment of a beautiful and terrifying dream, or he actually was a ghost and he was fucking her like she’d never been fucked before.

Her grunts and moans were stifled at the pressure he kept over her neck. But she was feeling incredible. He was good, perhaps too good. Because her ecstasy and the feelings she wanted to prolong were beginning to boil over again. She couldn’t help it that it felt so good and she couldn’t stop the orgasm from taking place. She truly wanted more of this. Needed to feel his cock moving in her for a lot longer. It would be a shame to let this feeling go too soon. She gasped as he squeezed her neck tighter. Her head was spinning. Harry was moaning when he could feel her begin to tremble.

“Gonna come on this ghost cock, baby? Come on. Let me have you. Give it to me. Show me you’re mine and I’ll come inside of you and show you I’m yours.” That was all it would take when the ritual was complete. Harry would fuck an orgasm out of her as he choked her unconscious and then once his sperm entered her system, she’d be filled with his essence and her rebirth as a spirit would maker her belong to him.

Harry began railing her deeper, harder. The bed was squeaking and the flames from the candles began to flicker violently, casting wild shadows on the walls. Her brain was mush and her body tingled and pricked at the way his dick submerged into her body and her breath was shallow.

The sound of sex in the room was loud. Moans, and slapping skin, wet pussy getting fucked fast and hard, the old bed creaking and shaking springs being disturbed after years of silence. The feel of Harry’s pubes rubbing over her clit when he’d press in hard over and over again are what did her in. It was her ending. In every sense.

“Yesss… Come on baby. That’s it. Let me have it.” Harry encouraged. He could feel it. He could feel her. Every dip and every shake of her muscle as she began to orgasm around him was what he needed, longed for. It was officially Halloween morning now as he came inside of her warm throbbing pussy. His soul fed. He came with a groan and threw his head back, pumping into her with finality, stuffing her with himself. She couldn’t turn back now.

He emptied himself into her and looked back down at her pretty face. This was it. He’d gotten what he called for and she came to answer him and now she was his. Forever. She closed her eyes when her orgasm had exhausted her body and her spirit and Harry lifted his palm from her neck.

When she woke up the sun was out, peeking in through the window across from the room she’d sat up in. Her phone on the floor, the dildo on the cushion next to her, her pants off, the lamp dead. She must have passed out. She stretched her limbs and felt a little sore, probably from the angle she’d fallen asleep in. She picked up her phone and noticed that no one had bothered to text her back yet. She huffed. Rude. She looked at the photo she sent and the shadow of what looked like a person was still there. She decided it was time to leave.

She slid her jeans onto her legs and looked around. What a strange dream. It had seemed so real but she knew, as she stood from the cushion to gather her things and thought back, that even in her dream she doubted the existence of ghosts. They weren’t real. She passed out last night while masturbating (she must have) and then had a wet dream about a hot ghost who her made her come so hard she could have died.

But there was a piece of her that was a little sad it wasn’t real. The ghost, Harry, she’d come to feel a connection to in her dream. She paused as she buttoned her pants up and frowned. Too bad. Even though he was a little scary, it made her feel empty a little.

She put her backpack onto her shoulders and walked through the house back toward the window she had entered last night. She laughed to herself when thinking of her dream and how she couldn’t find an exit. If she’d only considered the window she climbed in through in her dream, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten so intense. However, she was happy she dreamed about the attractive ghost boy. It was a hot dream and even though he wasn’t real, she’d always remember him.

When she entered the mudroom area near the back door she stopped in her tracks. The window was boarded up. The window she climbed through last night was impossible to climb into or out of. How could that be?

She backed out of the room and then looked down the hallway. It had to be here. Maybe she’d gotten the rooms mixed up? She walked back into the mudroom and undid the lock on the door. She’d just leave through the back door. She was starting to feel nervous that the door wouldn’t budge… and it didn’t. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her dream was beginning to come true.

Panic started to set in. She reached for her cellphone as she walked through the hallway toward the front door. There had to be some way for her to leave. The front door perhaps would be easier to open.

She opened her messages app to text the group realized, she had no signal. None. It was as if her cellphone no longer had a service plan. She shut her phone down to restart it, hoping that would work. While her phone was restarting she shoved it into her back pocket and found the front door.

The latch for the lock was undone at the top. She thought back to her dream and recalled undoing the latch. She twisted the handle and it turned but the door did not open. She put her weight into it, pulling back with both hands on the knob but nothing.

Stepping away from the front door she put her hands into her hair and then heard footsteps behind her. Turning as her skin crawled and her body shivered, she knew what she’d see. Who she’d see. It was him. Harry Styles. Dread overtook her. She knew now she had not been dreaming. Ghosts were real.

“Darling, I know you’re still going through a bit of shock, but let me make this very clear to you,” he walked toward her and reached out to take a portion of her hair at the ends between his fingers as he allowed his gaze to wonder over her face, “you’re dead. You’re mine. I made you mine last night so you can’t leave me. No matter how hard you try, you’ll always be here with me.” He smiled an eerie grin and cocked his head with eyebrows raised.

“Dead? A ghost like you?” She met his gaze and felt her body grow cold, her heart unmoving in her body. A peaceful silence surrounded them.

“A ghost like me.”

Thank you for reading! I’d appreciate any support you can give! Whether a comment, reblog, or buying me a coffee - it’s all appreciated. 💕

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Xoxo

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[enbysiriusblack]

Marlene sat on the stairs at James' house, surrounded by strangers chatting and drinking. One couple next to her were snogging, and kept almost falling into her. But Marlene remained, watching Dorcas from across the room.

It felt strange, seeing Dorcas Meadowes in the Potter's house. But Dorcas had strolled in, chatted to various people and was now standing with a beer in hand, laughing at something Sinistra had said.

Marlene's grip on her drink tightened, ans she felt an anger blossom.

A giggle suddenly came from next to her, and she turned to see a very drunk Peter beside her.

"You look sad", Peter pouted, the buttons on his shirt half undone.

"I'm not sad."

He laughed, "Well you look it", then held out a hand for her.

She took it, and suddenly he was running upstairs to one of the bathrooms. He winked before opening the door, revealing Lily and Remus sitting in the bathtub. Alice, Kingsley, and Xenophilius were sat on the floor. Books and ink surrounded them all.

"Welcome to our humble abode", Peter grinned, grabbing a blunt from Xenophilius and lighting it.

"Is this some sort of book and smoke club?"

Kingsley glanced up, "We're writing a short memoir."

Marlene glanced around the room, accepting the cigarette from Peter, "Why?"

Remus shrugged, his eyes still on the book in his hands, "Because Sirius wanted to do shots and we needed an excuse to escape that disaster."

"No, Remus", Lily kicked him, "Because we have meaningful things to say; our thoughts, our words, our lives are passing through time like insignificant specks, but literature is a short immortality. We may forget tonight, but what we write will live on."

She paused for a moment, and slowly frowned, "Okay. I'm too sober for this, I need a drink."

Lily hopped out of the bathtub, and headed downstairs.

Marlene sat down on the floor, "Meadowes is here."

Peter has climbed up to the window sill behind the sink and as he opened it, turned to her, "James invited them, said he likes their fervent attitude towards quidditch."

"You have a crush on Meadowes?" Alice asked, ripping a page out of Chaucer, which Remus was now trying to wrestle from her.

"Merlin, no", Marlene groaned, leaning her head against the cool, tiled wall, "I hate them."

Alice nodded, as if she understood, and leaned towards Kingsley in a whisper, "Just like my Narcissa."

Kingsley laughed, lighting another blunt.

Peter leaned out the window, glancing at the back garden, below, "Hey Marlene, Meadowes is out here."

Marlene shot to her feet, climbing over the sink to reach the window sill. She looked out into the dark garden, spotting Dorcas with Pandora.

"What are they doing?" Marlene narrowed her eyes, watching as the two sat together by one of the bushes.

"You seem like a stalker, Marlene", Kingsley commented.

"I am not. I'm just curious. Meadowes is literally standing right by the fence to my house, maybe they know I live there somehow."

Alice snorted, "You think they're breaking into your house? Pretty, wild accusation."

"Well, I don't know! That's why I'm trying to see!"

Lily opened the door, slamming it shut behind her, and pointed a finger at Remus, "I hate your boyfriend... Okay, I'm ready to write now."

She joined the three on the floor, Remus peering over the tub to watch them.

"Update", Marlene called out, "James is now with them. With a glass of water. I have no clue what's going on."

Peter squinted, sticking his head out the window, "I think Lovegood threw up."

"Oh."

"She did?" Xenophilius stood up, clammering up to the window, "Dora!" He yelled, "Are you okay?"

All three turned to the bathroom window.

Pandora held her thumbs up, and waved.

James yelled back, "What are you doing up there?"

"We're writing!"

He frowned, "At a party?"

Dorcas was staring at Marlene, a small smirk on their face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Marlene shouted to them.

Dorcas' smirk grew, "Were you watching me?"

"No!" Marlene answered, quickly, her cheeks growing red.

Peter turned to her, "Well, you were."

[buckybarnesss]

on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 1-3

on fire was published on july 17, 2012. the day after raving had aired during the show's second season.

it was written by nancy holder who has written many, many tie-in books for multiple franchises but most notably she wrote novels for the buffyverse.

by tapping nancy holder to write the novel confirms to me that mtv was trying to do what teen wolf's spiritual predecessors did and create tie-in novels with the show and on fire was testing the waters for that.

it did not succeed because teen wolf doesn't have the kind of space for that. the timeline is too tight. teen wolf was part of the new netflix binge era. it had a seasons of 12 episodes that were wall-to-wall plot. there weren't silly filler episodes and they didn't do monster of the week plots.

on fire assumes that you have seen episodes 1-5 of the show but it is also an AU of season 1 post-the tell.

i get the vibe that the author was given notes, some information or like an outline that she used to build a plot so it's interesting to see what tid-bits holder uses and refers to that still gel with canon or is consistent with what we know.

this isn't a novelization of season 1 that's for sure but, hey, i took notes.

i'm going to break the novel up into 3 chapter chunks.

so without further ado let's get into it. on fire: a teen wolf novel or as i've been thinkin of it as.

the novel starts right at the very end of the tell after the parent teacher conferences. 

the way it's described when argent shoots the mountain lion brings to mind the scene in to kill a mockingbird when atticus shoots the rabid dog. chris argent is no atticus finch but he sure does learn to walk a mile in someone else's shoes doesn't he?

i somehow always manage to forget that the tell is the episode where allison turns 17. she doesn’t live to see her 18th birthday. shot through the heart man. 

oh my fucking god scott. the way this is written i imagine holder is trying to invoke derek and kate as if there’s some wild age gap between him and allison when they're like 9 months apart in age. allison is not kate jesus chris. look at this shit:

“scott hadn’t known allison was seventeen, a year older than the other kids in their class -- older than him -- and didn’t want anyone to know.”

Fuck Rafael McCall. Meet me outside and catch these hands.

“he knew his dad wasn’t keeping up with child support payments. not that his mom had ever mentioned it.”

this is where the transition into heart monitor would be. it is a pretty terrifying dream scott has. peter’s such a dramatic bitch. scott’s dreaming of being in the woods with everything on fire and then he’s being compelled by peter to come kill with him. which just reinforces my whole thing about peter and scott being psychically connected. we don’t see this with any other alpha-beta connection to this degree. derek senses victoria killing scott in raving but we really do not get this in the show very much as it seems to be a Dark Sided power. but we do see peter use it again in season 6a with the whole “you were my beta first” scene. 

scott mentions stiles’s having ADHD so to me that means that nancy holder was definitely working with the idea that stiles does have it. stiles having ADHD seems like a plot thread that got dropped really quickly by the show but remained in dylan’s acting choices and in fandom’s mind.

scott is the only beta we see experience sleepwalking episodes. it seems tied to the compulsion and mental link he shares with feral alpha peter.

the entire paragraph is something. firstly, it wasn't until night school, the episode after this one, that peter tried to push scott into killing his “pack”. but lol melissa called stiles scott’s “litter mate” and stiles wearing his target shirt that he wore in wolf moon and the one that subtextually could reference the nemeton and eventually scott's pack symbol. i don't believe we ever actually saw that shirt again. the tragedy.

“stiles had on his bullseye t-shirt, and it kind of freaked scott out when he wore it. as if it meant that stiles were a target. They both knew the Alpha wanted Scott to kill him to cement Scott’s acceptance that he was a member of the Alpha’s pack. Who better to take down than the guy Scott’s mom had once referred to as his “litter mate”?”

this is where it's starting to get kind of weird because the plot of this book takes place during season 1 but it’s not strictly following the plot. it feels like an alternate season 1.

jackson has gone missing. when is he not missing is the more appropriate question? 

so chapter 2 starts with scott and stiles joining lydia and allison at The Popular Kids Table to discuss jackson being missing. this wouldn’t have happened in season 1. this dynamic didn’t exist until at minimum season 3. lydia didn’t even acknowledge stiles’s existence until the winter formal at the end of the season. 

jackson’s parents apparently went to paris right after the parent-teacher conference, leaving their high school age child alone for an extended period of time in the middle of the school year? what? no wonder jackson’s fucked up. why didn’t they just go around christmas and instead they waited another three weeks or some shit. that is weird.

jackson’s been left a note from a supposed private investigator about his birth parents while his parents are out of town, which is totally not sus at all. 🙄🙄 lydia's concerned about him looking stupid so she won’t go to the sheriff and she doesn’t even approach jackson’s best friend danny. like, danny would know a lot more about jackson than scott or stiles would. lydia, i know allison is the one who involved scott but for fuck’s sake. 

look even a page later lydia says “he and jackson barely know each other.” then why are you involving scott in what you seem to believe is a personal matter? 

do people just generally know jackson was adopted? i can see lydia knowing but scott and stiles? allison just fucking moved there so she doesn’t know anything about anyone. this is quite the personal piece of information i doubt he’d want others to know lydia. 

this is such an AU because after the parent-teacher conference stiles was giving scott the cold shoulder due to his dad being hurt. 

also stiles is supposedly sitting at this table the entire time lydia, allison and scott are talking and has not given his opinion on the matter yet. very unlike him. if there's one thing stiles has it's opinions on jackson and his father's job. stiles would be all over this.

this fucking line is brutal man -- “stiles was the only person on the planet who knew he had become a werewolf. well, derek knew, too, but derek hardly counted as a person.” that said, i do think it’s accurate to scott’s headspace at this point regarding derek. avoiding seeing derek as a person is a way of detaching himself from the situation he’s found himself in. 

alright so we’ve got a POV change to allison --a nd it’s all about how cute acott is. allison I love you but chill please. 

okay so this is interesting. “her mom had been angry, too. allison could tell that if had been left up to her, she wouldn’t have been so harsh about having to stay all weekend. her mom liked scott.” are we sure we’re talking about the same victoria argent? granted this is pre-werewolf reveal so as far as victoria knows allison is just mooning over a nice normal human boy but i have a hard time imagining this being the same victoria who gave us the crazy eyes and the sharpening your dick metaphor.

this still haunts me.

"except i won’t get to spend time with scott except at school until i’m, oh, 112.” oh right in the feels

this book really assumes you’ve seen episodes 1-5 of the first season. allison’s mentioning aunt kate and the necklace in a way that makes the assumption the reader knows who and what they are. 

jackson’s password for his tracking app is “captain”. that is worse than the password being lydia or like scott famously having allison as his password. y’all suck and have shitty computer security.

these kids are sophomores in high school and lydia and allison are really having a discussion about jackson going to a pay by the hour motel as if that’s a thing 15-16 year olds do in the california subburbs on a regular basis. as if jackson would lower himself in such a way to begin with. he’s snobby as fuck. it’s such a weird conversation.

i am page 20 and i feel like so far this author hasn’t been very nice to stiles. not having him say a word in the lunch conversation about jackson despite not only being very opinionated about jackson whittermore’s general existence he’d also have thoughts on a missing person. like, he didn’t even speak when his dad was brought up as a possible avenue of help which is odd. then about a page later there’s this sort of tone used around stiles that feels condescending about him being hyperactive.

this paragraph is, uh, something that could’ve only been written in 2012 because it feels gross:

“lydia shrugged. then she turned to allison. “tell you what. if the boys are willing to the motel for us ---” “to a motel. to look for a guy,” stiles said. ”maybe you should ask danny?” danny, their lacrosse team goalie, was gay, out and proud. “he could act, you know, more casual about it.”

that said, it does track with stiles being overly occupied with the perception of his sexuality and that danny does shit he’s way too young to be doing which is written around his sexuality. remember the whole older boyfriend and going to the jungle thing is season 2? 

it has been like 23 pages and allison’s got this subplot where she wants to have sex with scott. like girlie you’ve known scott for 2 days, keep your pants on. (it keeps coming up with scott too and it's annoying, okay).

it took stiles barely a paragraph to mention derek hale when the point of view switched to him. sir. 

i’m laughing at how derek’s point of view is paired with stiles in the way that scott and allison’s are. even in the non-canon book the Sterek Agenda is there. 

“a prankster with a wicked sense of humor.” is what derek refers to peter as before the fire. is that what we are calling it derek because i would disagree.

“i dreamed of other alphas coming after me. why? it’s not a crime to kill an alpha. i’m a werewolf. the way we progress in status is through challenge.” now this is an interesting perspective. werewolves progress via challenges. that's still sort of in-line with what we see in canon.

allison and scott are driving into the seedier side of town. AKA what seems to be where the poors live. scott describes seeing boarded up buildings, pawn shops and “some kind of clinic where you could sell your blood.” which I assume is a plasma center where people donate and get paid in return and this little classist shit says “remind me to never get a blood transfusion.” god he’s such a 16 year old..

i saw kate's name on the next page where chapter 4 is

[lauriemarch]

i've got to put it all out in writing first, here, for you. i know you'll never read this, but the pit in my stomach demands to be free.

i haven't stopped thinking about the curve of your hand around my waist or the want that overcame any of my rational thoughts, your hand tucking my wild hair behind my ear. your eyes are so blue that they shine through darkness and i hate that i let you hit me this hard, this deep, this gut-wrenching. i hate that i let myself believe someone would actually leave their girlfriend for me and i hate the way everyone kept staring at the party we went to. i feel like there's probably a taylor swift song for how i feel, like the villain in your story, turning ice-cold after a six-shot night because i freaked out and got weird about everything, but that's written into my coding– i get weird about everything, my hands shake when i'm in trouble, and i've never been still about you. and you're moving on from something we never even got to have and i get it, i really do, but there is an entire summer before us and the worst rejection i've ever gotten was "you have your stage manager thing and i have my actor thing" and now i feel tawdry and strung out and like i'm going to puke pretty much all of the time. spill your guts. i'm sick. i'm going to be sick. people in books do this so much easier than me.

if you were reading this, i'd press the words i'm sorry into your palm like they were velveteen, soft and brushed at just the right angle. give me another chance, i'd whisper, because a week wasn't enough time to think it all through. i've never wanted someone and had them want me back. say it to me sober, i told you that night, and then i clammed up when you tried to say anything to me. i want to lay my head on your stomach, is that normal? just to hear your heartbeat. you make me want to come out to my parents. i'm getting weird about you right now. i have so much love in me i told you the other day and it doesn't always come back in the way i want it and then you joked that's such a classic stage manager thing to say but i wanted to grip you by the shoulders and shake you and say you you you you you you it's about you i want your love in return and i want it greedy and messy i wanted everything about you and i'm sorry that i got weird. let's just get through this summer, you told me last night. you were taking steps away from me. you've never had the tendency to back up.

[warriorsweaver]

Original Warriors covers vs new covers, a tangential word vomit analysis by me: ORIGINALS Into the Wild really pulls you in. Who are they? Why does the one on the right look vicious? What's up here?

Fire and Ice is like, "Shit's going DOWN." The little square with Fireheart and Graystripe sitting for their vigil is beautiful. Love the moon. Love the difference in colors between the square and the battle in the background.

Forest of Secrets is breathtaking. It's easily one of my favorite book covers ever. Fireheart's back is exposed, the story dives into betrayal, and the cats crossing the stepping stones is ... just perfect.

Rising Storm with the hunting sequence and itty bitty fluffy lil baby Cloudtail. I wanna scoop him up and snuggle him and give him churus. The background looks beautiful. I want to go there. It contrasts well with the tension of one cat stalking another.

A Dangerous Path with that LIGHNTNING IN THE BACKGROUND omg middle school me was obsessed. That's the one I remember seeing my friend read and then I finally asked her what those books were. I remember thinking, "I can't wait to get to that book," because it was clear some big stuff was going on in it.

The Darkest Hour is so calm and really gives eye of the storm vibes, and Firestar seeing his reflection as a lion is beautiful and an excellent payoff.

NEW COVERS The new covers are like, "This is a cat," and that's about it. Great. Yeah, that's a cat. A pretty kitty, one might say.

Into the Wild's is okay. Rusty looks a bit baby-faced, as to be expected, and his eye is well-done. I like the grass, but also it looks like he's just popping up from it even though I feel like the intent is that he's supposed to be stalking through the foliage? On Fire and Ice's cover, I can tell that's Tigerclaw. Looks like the still shot of a villain in an anime while they're plotting their Evildoings and you can hear their inner monologue. But he also looks like a very old bearded man, for some reason. The little embers against the wintry background is a nice touch. Why is Forest of Secrets golden? Why is the river piss? Why is it sparkly? This does not invoke long-buried secrets being unearthed and changing lives, reputations, and social statuses. It has more of a "summer vacations that last forever" bright and pretty vibe. Rising Storm is ... eh. Red. Fiery. Okay. But the overly airbrushed, sparkly-eyed kitty doesn't show me that tensions are building. It just looks like kitty is doing a photoshoot for their Insta. I think that's Yellowfang?? A Dangerous Path is, like, where is that light coming from and why? Nothing here looks dangerous. The cat looks like it's being blinded. I don't even know which cat that's supposed to be. The forest background is dark to remind us that this is a DANGEROUS path but forests are dark at night and not inherently dangerous because they're dark. Aaannd then we get to The Darkest Hour. All they had to do was include a fucking lion somewhere. It would've been cool even if it was sitting behind Firestar. It doesn't look like he's looking at his reflection. It looks ... I don't even know. The water effect would work much better if it looked like it was rippling outward from somewhere? Instead, they made it look like the water is moving in an outline around his head, which doesn't make any sense. It's sourceless. Where does the movement start? Where is it going? I don't know. I can't tell.

The close-up face shots with little to nothing intriguing going on around the cats doesn't make me wonder anything about the story. It doesn't pull me in. There is so little space around them. It feels like when you wake up and you feel your cat's breath against your nose and their paw is in your mouth and they're yowling at you because they're STARVING and you're like, "Dude, I love you, but get out of my face." ty for reading my rant. please return to your regularly scheduled day. Have a good one.

edit: just wanted to toss out there that the artist of the new covers has amazing work in his portfolio, and my issue isn't with him nor his art as a whole, just that the direction (which is probably on the publishers' end) lacks "oomph" and doesn't do the drama in the Warriors series justice. Also, with as many books as there are in the series, it's important that each book's cover is distinct, and the newer covers don't quite hit that mark.

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

I know now what no angel knows epilogue snippet

Beatrice awoke to her alarm blasting inches from her head. Groaning, she checked the time. The alarm was her fourth backup. Mary had set it up for her and so had free reign over their labels. The current alarm, with its sweet dulcet melody of blaring klaxons, was aptly labelled: 'Now you’re really in the shitter.’’ 

In so many words, Beatrice was late for work. 

Whatever happened in the twenty minutes it took Beatrice to get up out of bed and to the library was between Beatrice and God. Needless to say, she spent the first ten minutes of her work day doubled up against her desk, mopping her brow and wheezing.

All through her shift Beatrice barely thought about her dream or the night before. Her mind was occupied solely with the blinding mundanity of searching up book requests and logging new arrivals and carting returns up and down the library and directing people to the nearest toilet. 

“Jesus Christ, Bea –”

Beatrice’s spine, with no urging from her conscious thoughts, snapped up all on its own. 

“– you look like shit.”

A dark hand laid itself lazily flat against the reception desk from behind her. Beatrice exhaled hard through her mouth and let her body go slack against her chair. For one moment, one single, awful, catastrophic moment, she really thought… she thought…

But it was just Lucia. She was leaning up against the desk with a mug of tea in her hand and biscuits tucked under her arm and was smiling down at Beatrice with her eyebrows raised.

“I’m guessing you and Lily had a pretty wild night.” Lucia dragged out the word ‘pretty’ while at the same time dragging her eyebrows up and almost off of her face. “You should’ve seen yourself though. For a second I thought you were about to blast up out of your little rolly chair and through the ceiling, yelling like goofy all the way.” Lucia placed the tea next to Beatrice’s mouse and began tearing open the packet of biscuits.

Beatrice looked up at her, scowling, then turned back to her computer and said, “You know I don’t know who goofy is. I thought that was just an adjective.”

Lucia didn’t reply. Beatrice heard her shift and felt the pressure of her body against the desk as she leaned further down upon it. Beatrice added another entry to her spreadsheet and let Lucia indulge in sighing wistfully at her for a few more seconds. Only when she felt Lucia gearing up for a really heavy sigh did she turn and say, “What?”

Lucia had her hands folded in her lap and had stretched her legs out so they tapped against one of the wheels of Beatrice’s chair. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “But you do look like shit.”

“Thanks. I slept through my alarm,” Beatrice croaked. 

Lucia laughed at that, saying, “Fucking hell, you sound like shit too.” She nudged the mug of tea closer to Beatrice with her knuckles and put the open stack of biscuits close to her keyboard. “Hard night of slamming shots and… knitting socks, or whatever it is you two do in your free time?”

“No,” Beatrice said sharply. She wasn’t in the mood for banter, but the tea, along with Lucia’s wounded expression, softened her significantly. She sighed and rubbed her eyes from under her glasses. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I do feel like shit. I’m just tired.”

Lucia nodded. She looked down at the desk and pulled out a biscuit with a fore and ring finger. She crossed her arm over her chest, resting her elbow against it, and tapped the biscuit on her lips. She squinted at Beatrice critically. “Is it because of the girl and the postcard stuff?”

For a moment Beatrice had genuinely no idea what she was referring to. Then, as she was always bound to, she remembered. She remembered weeping pathetically in an almost empty theatre and getting rained on and falling asleep and – Ava. She remembered Ava invading her dream, because it couldn't have been anyone else in those robes.

Beatrice dropped her head into her arms, almost knocking over her tea and flattening the biscuits, and she moaned miserably. “Yes.” 

“Pardon?” Lucia asked, amused. “I can’t make out a word you’re saying with your head buried in your armpit.”

Beatrice raised her head to issue her reply. She was aiming for something along the lines of, ‘Yes it bloody well was about the girl and the postcard’, but it came out as, “Yes it – oh my bloody – fuck.”

Before Lucia had time to react, to even so much as drop her biscuit in surprise, Beatrice was already on the ground and rolling herself underneath the desk to crouch by Lucia’s feet. 

“Bea —”

“ —Shushushhhhhh,” Beatrice hissed, pressing her finger to her lips. “Pretend to be me,” she whispered. 

"What?" Lucia choked and spluttered biscuit crumbs onto the floor. She looked around the library, jerking her head left and right, looking for whatever had startled Beatrice into stopping, dropping and rolling so dramatically. A few people were sitting at tables with their heads down, an elderly man just making his way through the front door, and a young woman wandering towards the front desk looking lost – nothing out of the ordinary.

“Pretend to do my job. Don’t – don’t look at me! Just do it.”

Lucia ignored Beatrice’s incoherent demands (as she should) and crouched down beside her. She reached out to press the back of her hand against Beatrice’s forehead and asked, warily, “Are you feeling alright, Beatrice? You look pale and you’re, like, suddenly really sweaty. ”

Beatrice batted her hand away. “Yes, just get up for Pete's sake."

“Hello?” A voice from the other side of the desk called out. 

The front desk was, blissfully, one of those colossal monsters whose tops reach up to chest height, with a little nook for computers behind it and a wide, wide berth underneath for foot space and cables – and now, it seemed, for Beatrice. 

Beatrice paled. A spasm of fear and shock rocketed across her face. “I am begging you,” she said. “Just do it.”

The mortal terror sweating out of every one of Beatrice's pores was what probably got Lucia off of her in the end. She gave Beatrice one last concerned look then shuffled awkwardly backwards out from under the desk. Brushing her shirt free of crumbs, she stood up. "Ah," she said, smiling widely, "there it is." From Beatrice's position on the floor, she could see Lucia pretending to dust off her half-eaten biscuit. "I'm so clumsy," she said, shrugging and putting on her best companionable air.

"That's okay," the voice said with an uncertain laugh to their voice. "Three-second rule, or whatever."

“Yeah, right,” Lucia agreed, also laughing a little unsteadily. Beatrice nudged her foot. Lucia didn’t look down at her, but got the message and made a show of looking busy; tapping randomly at the computer in front of her, humming and scratching her chin, and probably mangling Beatrice’s spreadsheet. Beatrice gritted her teeth and pinched Lucia's leg. At the pinch, Lucia jumped and blurted out, far too formally, “May I help you with anything?”

“Yeah, actually. I’m wondering if a particular member of staff is in today?” said the voice.

Beatrice's heart dropped into her bowels. She was going to be sick. She was going to vomit all over Lucia’s shoes and pass out under her desk. She reached out and held onto Lucia’s leg like a lifeline.

“Oh, yes? And who might that be?” Lucia asked with an affected accent, covertly trying to shake Beatrice off.

Beatrice put a hand over her eyes, partly to steady herself, partly to stop herself from throttling Lucia. She had never heard her speaking so ridiculously in her life. Was she taking what Beatrice said literally and actually pretending to be her? God, Beatrice thought, is that what she thinks I sound like?

The voice hesitated, then said, "I'm looking for Beatrice. She mentioned she worked here. I wanted to see her. She does work here, right?"

Beatrice carefully took her hand from her eyes and waited. Lucia waited too, perhaps for Beatrice to pinch her again, or to be struck by inspiration. In any case, she waited far too long to be natural. At last, Beatrice tugged savagely at Lucia’s trouser leg, almost bringing her down to her knees.

“Hold on… uh – just a second,” Lucia said to whoever was standing in front of the desk. 

“Say yes,” Beatrice hissed when Lucia bent down to the floor.

Lucia gave her a dirty look and pulled her leg free, then straightened again. Her wide smile was back in place. She beamed and raised her eyebrows. “Yes,” she said, as though she were a charismatic TV presenter telling the person in front of her they had just won the lottery. She might as well blow on a horn and do jazz hands while she's at it, Beatrice thought, miserably.

“Oh.” The person at the desk’s voice rose. They sounded relieved. “Is she here?”

Beatrice reached for Lucia’s leg again, but Lucia beat her to the punch. She jabbed Beatrice with her foot, almost crushing her fingers under her boot heel. Not losing her smile for even a moment, Lucia said, “I’m afraid not. She’s out for the day.” Out of spite, Beatrice guessed, she added, “Maybe try again tomorrow?”

Beatrice almost leapt out from under the table and bit Lucia’s ankle like a feral dog. Lucia, as though anticipating just that reaction, stepped nimbly out of Beatrice’s reach.

“Alright,” the voice said with a sigh. “But hey,” – there came two quick thumps on the desktop as a hand slapped down upon it – “thanks anyway.”

Lucia gave a high, choked “Mhmm” in response. 

When the person left and their footsteps receded, Lucia turned on Beatrice and, in tones as dark and forbidding as the library permitted, said, “And what in the hell was that?”

Beatrice was just crawling out from under the desk, peering up over the top of it as though facing a firing squad. “That was the –” she began, but Lucia cut her off.

“I guessed who that was,” Lucia said peevishly, “but why drag me into it? Why launch yourself under the desk and make me improvise doing your job?”

Beatrice flopped down onto her chair and gave Lucia a rueful, pathetically hang-dog look. Lucia folded her arms and glanced away. “Whatever,” she said. “The things I do for you, and this is the thanks I get?”

Beatrice rested her chin in her hands and stared out at the entrance to the library. She took a few steading breaths through her nose, saying nothing.

“I should lock you in the archives for a day, see how you like it.” Lucia was grumbling on, pacing the space behind the desk and gnawing angrily on her biscuit. Only when she caught Beatrice’s expression did she stop mid-tirade. Reassuming her position beside the biscuits and the tea, she leaned down and said, “She was pretty.”

“Yeah?” Beatrice asked dreamily. 

Lucia barked a laugh and slapped Beatrice on the back, knocking her out of her reverie. “Uh, yeah,” she said. “I think I’m starting to get it now.”

“Get what?” Beatrice asked, but Lucia was already backing away. “Get what? Lucia, get what?”

Lucia shrugged and ambled away from the desk, almost swaggering. “Lucia, your radar is impeccable,” she said to herself, then pushed open a set of doors to her left and disappeared. 

“Radar?” Beatrice mumbled under her breath. “What radar?”

Beatrice spent the rest of her work day behind her desk trying desperately to untangle the events of the past few hours. She ran through her dream first, but she had learnt not to place too much importance in them and so quickly disregarded it. Then she thought about her conversation with Lucia, which had crossed a boundary neither of them could uncross for various reasons that involved pinching and hissing and kicking – Not good. 

Absolutely none of it made any sense to her, except, of course, the unmistakable fact that Ava was back in the city and that she was looking for her.

[ussjellyfish]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @mylittleredgirl, who has been a good cheerleader friend for like 20 years now. That's wild.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 428.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 2,852,289

3. What fandoms do you write for?

112 - Once Upon a Time (though not lately),

81 - Star Trek the Next Generation,

78 - Star Trek Discovery,

75 - Star Trek Voyager,

42 - Agents of SHIELD.

And many others. The forecast is for Discovery to take the top slot.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Two really long (100k plus) Once Upon a Time babyfics, one Game of Thrones little what if one shot where Catelyn saves the book, one little femslashy Game of Thrones oneshot with really nice poetic language, and a Once Upon a Time Dragon Queen babyfic that might be one of the best things I've ever written.

(Write a really long fic in the most popular ship of a pretty big femslash fandom and one goes get a LOT of kudos).

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try. I get tired, I mean to respond. I forget, I get overwhelmed. I'm trying. I have... 2507 unread comments on Ao3 going back over 8 years. I'm not doing terribly well, but I try.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

When I the starry courses know Star Trek Voyager: Kathryn Janeway/Borg Queen.

Janeway sacrifices herself to the Borg to save her crew. It's pretty dark.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them? Without Knowing How, perhaps, because characters who were dead in canon wake up in an AU where they're married, happy, and have a baby, and they're really sweet in how they just roll with it. (Philippa Georgiou/Katrina Cornwell, Star Trek Discovery).

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really...once someone wrote a fic about how much they hated a threesome I was writing (a few other people were them too, and it was fun). Once Upon a Time was a wild fandom. I did take it very personally at the time.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

sometimes, I prefer foreplay and flirting and all the things that come after the smut. Smut does lead to babies sometimes though so...I have to write it. Sometmes I'm in the mood and sometimes I'm not.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Stargate Atlantis and Star Trek the Next Generation, which was nice, all the characters are kind and thoughtful and the tech going back and forth was fun.

Hilariously that fic got linked on some forum about starships where they critiqued my starship combat.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I have not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

I have! There are a few on ao3.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A livejournal friend and I cowrote two Janeway/Chakotay fics, back in the day, and they were so fun. They're very soft.

I was Janeway, B'Elanna, Seven and Tuvok. She was Chakotay, Tom Paris, the Doctor and Harry Kim.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Kathryn Janeway/Beverly Crusher probably? All time is hard. I'm much more of a "current time" person.

Currently it's Michael Burnham/Laira Rillak.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have the following WIPs

Universe Travelling 4 year old causes chaos and romance.

Michael rescues her sick girlfriend.

Quantum - (the baby's here, so...how do they go back to work...I need to reread the whole thing to make sure I have all the threads)

Michael gets pon farr.

The first two are for year of the OTP so I have until December 2024 to finish them. I like they, there's a good bit written of both, so that's likely.

Quantum owns my soul, so I will finish that, but it might be slow. I get distracted.

Pon Farr I am working on today! so I feel good.

16. What are your writing strengths?

long character arcs. Dialogue. Soft things with gentle emotions and slow plot.

Character goes on a long emotional journey while she is pregnant and then gives birth under unpredictable circumstances, while being loved and supported. is my thing. It could be on the tin containing my fic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description. I don't see things. I don't bother. My fics take place in a void where costumes and setting are barely mentioned.

I don't write intensity, or plot that moves quickly. I get distracted by world building and OCs.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't do it. I usually write something about how "she said in Vulcan" or something. I speak some German, some Mandarin, I might try that if I have a native speaker to help me, but likely not.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek the Next Generation!! I handwrote a self insert fic into my journal as a child. I think I was middle school aged.

I wrote a bunch of Sunset Beach on forums, then Star Trek the Next Geration, and one of my oldest internet published fics is on Ao3. That fic turns 23 this year.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Ever ever?

Right this moment it's...migrations and other recurring phenomena because I keep rereading it and I like it.

Michael and Laira are trapped in a turbolift and they look after each other, then they flirt and make out and have sex and the desire to have sex is really well done.

Next time I do this meme it might be different, but right now. I really love that one.

(it also does not get enough love, it's good, dammit).

tagging @lonesomehighways, @moomkin77, @purlturtle, @sadmushroomgoblin, @concentfortea, @an-inky-fingered-lass, @thewitchofelpis, @lenfaz @liz-squids @divinemissem13 if you feel like it.

[thatuselesshuman]

Writeblr Introduction Tag

thank you for the tag @willtheweaver

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels when it comes to most things, but I've been known to dabble in one shots with fanfiction.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, any of those really. I just finished Iron Flame (second book to Fourth Wing) and I think that counts as fantasy.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Same list. I write what I want to read.

Are you a planner or write-as-I-go kind of person?

I have to have an idea of the plot before I start writing, but other than that it's the wild west out here.

What music do you listen to when writing?

Whatever ssounds the least repulsive when I open yt music. Right now I'm listening to Writing on the Wall by Will Stetson.

Fave books/movies?

My favorite web novel is Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint, and my favorite actual book series is Six of Crows. My favorite movie is either Mulan or Hidden Figures, depending on my mood.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

A black tank top, black wide-leg flowy pants, and these converse specifically. Why those converse? Because I actually own those converse

Any current WIPs?

None oof Us Heroes and Gates of Hell.

Create a character description of yourself

She is a 22 year old woman with a height of around 5'7 and an average build. She has dark brown short hair with curtain bangs and extremely pale skin. Her eyes are the same dark brown as her hair, though in certain lighting they look black. She can typically be seen wearing some variation of the black wide-leg flowy pants people swear she never takes off, a black tank top, and whichever pair of her two pairs of converse she chose via eenie meenie miney mo.

99% of the time she is entirely unserious, but that 1% of the time is when she has a brain blast that even the circus must have an end (these never last long however, she's not that smart).

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Depends. Occasionally it can be fun, but then I start getting caught up in the 'what if that's out of character??'

Are you kill-happy with your characters?

No one is safe, not even the main character. I killed every supporting character except one in Sorrow's Victor.

Slow or fast writer?

When I get in the zone I can hash out 3000 words in like two hours, but usually I take a ton of breaks so I'm pretty slow.

Coffee or tea while writing?

Neither. Monster energy.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

I draw inspiration from the books I read mostly.

If you were put in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I'd be the comic relief side character that (preferably) doesn't die a gruesome death for character development.

Most fav book cliche?

I blush and giggle over rivals to lovers all the time.

Least fav book cliche?

Love corners, miscommunication, straight bullying to 'I love you 🥺' with little to no retribution for the bully.

Fave scene to write?

I don't have a particular favorite, but I like writing scenes that include banter and are high stakes or high energy.

Most productive time of day for writing?

Middle of the night when my insomnia is biting me in the ass again.

Reason for writing?

The Voices

@moltenwrites @the-golden-comet @wyked-ao3 @katenewmanwrites @agirlandherquill +open tag

[wfagamerants]

A bit late because lol, rl, but as a blog about my Mario opinions, I can’t resist rambling a bit about my opinions of stuff in a direct full of Mario stuff.

Ordering them in how excited I am for each of them, though in the end I am happy about all of these, it’s just a way to decide how to order them.

Luigi’s Mansion Dark Moon Switch

I genuinely like Dark Moon and honestly don’t think it's rep as the lesser of the three games in some circles is earned, so seeing a Switch version is welcome in my book.

That said, I do have some concerns with how choppy the game looks in places. The original had a few moments like this too, but in a HD re-release…yeah you gotta clean that up. Odds are that may even happen, given the game isn’t due until next year.

Besides that, yeah, Dark Moon on Switch. I like the game and will gladly get this and use it as an excuse to replay it, but odds are there isn’t gonna be much new here. Not a bad thing, just makes me struggle to put this higher up here.

Mario + Rabbids Sparks of Hope DLC

It looks good, I’ll play it and that is honestly it.

This may be worth a discussion of its own, but while I like Sparks of Hope and even prefer some aspects of it over the original, it didn’t stick with me in the long run like the first game and it seems many feel the same way.

Hard to say what it is, but I am sure I will enjoy this, it’s just that at this point, I am really mostly interested in Rayman when it comes to this game,

The mechanical King Bob-omb’s pretty sick though.

Mario Kart 8 Deluxe Booster Course Pass Wave 5

Fun idea for a new racetrack and a very solid selection of new characters. Good first impressions.

We still don’t know the other 7 tracks, but I do genuinely think every new wave so far has been better than the last, so I am in good spirits about it and Mario Kart 8 is something I can keep coming back to for another round very easily.

New Peach Game

This is easily the most surprising one in its mere existence.

With how little has been shown so far, it’s hard to really have a strong opinion on things, but the stage play theme does make one wonder what could be and little details like Peach not having her crown really are curious.

Above all else though, I am just excited this is a thing. Spin-offs focusing on other characters are always among the most interesting new releases. They allow for experimentation with ideas that may be seen as not fitting Mario himself and after the 2000s, the well of new ones dried up really substantially.

Peach is also still a very unexplored character for this, even her first game is still heavily grounded in regular Mario stuff, while this is looking to be more of a Luigi’s Mansion kind of spin-off, so I am very intrigued.

Super Mario Wonder

Quite frankly, this game, in everything we have seen, feels like an outright apology for how static and safe 2D Marios have been in the NSMB era.

With this is one, it really feels like there was a desire to just get weird and I can vibe with that. The sections for collecting Wonder Seeds seem really creative and out there, with a lot of variety at that and the trippy nature of the first one in particular is a stand-out.

Besides that we got a surprising roster of characters, with the most out there choice being Daisy. Nintendo actually using their characters? Crazy talk.

In all seriousness, I appreciate them expanding beyond Mario and Luigi on a more regular basis now and what helps charm me even more is how expressive and alive the characters are.

Everyone around on social media has likely seen these comparison shots already:

But even beyond that you have little things like the characters reacting to the spiked boulder about to chase them:

I just adore stuff like this and hope the game is full of that.

Beyond that there are still a lot of little things, like the not-Toad NPC, the elephant power-up, that wild looking Bowser Jr, etc. Loads to see and I can’t wait for more info.

My only gripe is that they are still passing up Toad in favor of colorful generics. It’s not gonna make me less excited for the game, even though I feel cheated out of one of my favs, but I wish Nintendo would finally stop doing that.

Super Mario RPG Remake

I won’t lie, when leakers mentioned this one, I wasn’t all that thrilled.

Not because I don’t like RPG or the idea of a remake, but because I expected it to be butchered. Part of its charm is that it is a time capsule to an era where Mario’s now known visual identity and several concepts didn’t exist yet. I fully expected that to be done away with, for the sake of brand consistency, on top of some of the more undesirable changes from the Mario & Luigi remakes.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Genuinely, I was so caught off-guard by everything shown here. Mario, Peach and Bowser are updated to their modern looks, which is perfectly fine, but beyond that, it is genuinely amazing how much they retained the original.

All the original characters are still present which, granted, wasn't unlikely, but still lovely to see.

They retained a more chibi proportioned look, in-line with the original’s renders and sprites.

The environments still look as they did back then, no NSMB colorful hills in the grassland area or anything. They even resisted the temptation to update Peach’s castle to its standard look.

Most shocking of all, the old Toad NPC designs, my favorites in all Mario games, are left intact:

And as an extra bone as a Toad fan, after Wonder disappointed, they even gave him dibs on the blue vest, to further distinguish him from the rest of his species.

Everything just looks so nice. The models and environments, the music, the cutscenes, it’s a charmer across the board.

Much like with Luigi’s Mansion, it’s up in the air how much new there will be content-wise, but honestly, I am fine regardless what direction it takes.

I’m just happy to have a reminder of what Mario RPGs used to be and I will gladly support it to show I miss that kinda stuff, on top of my adoration for the original.

WarioWare Move It!

The Wario fan is most excited for the Wario game, say what?

In all seriousness of course this makes me incredibly happy. Smooth Moves was my favorite WarioWare before the big revival with Gold and GiT and a follow-up with the joycon as the main focus always made sense.

This is very much a traditional WarioWare to its core and frankly, that is amazing, it even embraces the low quality, cursed 3D models from Smooth Moves that I love with all my heart. I would have also liked a GiT follow-up, but this always made the most sense for a second Switch entry and I am happy they aren’t sleeping on it.

The extra stuff like the board game mode also adds some intrigue, not enough to see what this will be like yet, but I am always glad to get some extra offerings beyond the regular stages.

That aside you got the fun vacation theme, 13-Amp possibly being a host now, some lovely Smooth Moves callbacks like the return of forms and so on. I am nothing but excited.

And this is yet another one I am happy just exists. This is the first time since the Wii that Wario has gotten more than one new game on a system and so soon after GiT no less. WarioWare is in a healthy state again and that is huge.

So yeah, banger after banger and a nice uptick after the 2022 Mario output was on the lacking side. I’ll always defend Battle League in many aspects, but it still sucks content-wise and Sparks of Hope, while good, is pretty lacking in the Mario aspect.

Between the 2023 releases out of these and the movie though, we truly have a banger year for anything Mario.

[smokeybrandreviews]

Shares

I feel like I've been super negative on this blog lately so let me straight up gush about something I've recently loved. Alien: Romulus was amazing. I’ve spoken at length about this before, but I am a massive fan of the franchise. It’s not part of my Pillars, but it’s definitely a support strut. Alien, to me, is as perfect as a film can get, and Aliens is a perfect example of Eighties excess. Go big or go home. The Queen Xenomorph is one of my all-time creature designs but my zeal for that universe was solidified with the Dark Horse comics. Some of the first comics I bought myself, with my own money, were Alien books. I ended up getting the first issue of Aliens: Earth War (before it was called Earth War) and the initial AvP run. That sh*t ended up taking a ton of space in my head, rent free, for years. Machiko Noguchi is the second best protagonist, after Ripley, herself. I had all of the Kenner figures and their little mini comics, too. Just the Xenos, though. I didn’t give a sh*t about the Marines. I remember lamenting I never got that “good” Queen Xeno, just the flying one. I love this franchise. So imagine my utter desperation for a competent big screen outing, after literally four goddamn decades of sh*t. The Assembly Cut of Alien 3 was pretty decent but everything after that was just awful. All of it. Including the prequels. I really f*cking hate the prequels. That resentment is actually a boon for Romulus because the way they incorporated that part of the mythos into this film, went a long way toward my acceptance of those ill-conceived and wholly convoluted, ego strokes. Romulus is so good, they make all of this cats-for-brains ideas in the Prequels, tolerable.

I don’t care for Prometheus because it came at the cost of Blomkamp’s Alien 5. I’ve seen a bit of that concept art and listened to Weaver just absolutely gush about the plot. Sh*t sounded exceptional, very Aliens, very much in the vein of that narrative. In all honesty, I think that’s why it was killed. It skewed more Cameron than Scott, and Mr. Ridley took offense. He made Fox kill the Oates effort and ran wild with Prometheus; an unwieldy, up-it’s-own-ass, creation myth, that was too convoluted to execute such an existential narrative with any decorum, and was too pretentious to be accessible to the common man. We wanted an Alien part Deux. We got Chariot of the Gods. Sh*t was pretty, though. After what Scott hoped to pivot the franchise to, imploded critically, he got a second shot at it, delivering an origin story to the Xenos no one asked for. While STILL pivoting toward his weird AI fetish super hard. Somehow, Covenant was worse than Prometheus in almost every way. Sh*t didn’t “fix” anything. David is still the architect to the Xenomorphs as we know them. He’s still the thing which set up the events of LV-426. The Black Goo is still a primary fixture of the franchise. Both Prometheus and Covenant are still canon. That’s dumb. However, the way Romulus addresses those things, really allowed me to accept those really, really, dumb, situations.

Mild spoilers, but the Aliens in Romulus are not the same Aliens from LV-246. They are reversed engineered by Rook, an Ash model android, from the remains of Big Chap. Rook was able to synthesize a strain of the black goo, I think it was called the Prometheus Strain, and even referenced Waylan’s death. What this told me was that, while the black goo was a really dumb addition to the overall narrative, I couldn’t be all that upset about it because Fede Alvares was able to make it feel legit. This strain of the Black Goo was different than the one the Engineers had. It produced subtly different versions of the Xenos. The facehuggers, for example, were larger, more mobile, and had barbs on their tendrils to grip faces better. The Xenos were larger and had a digitigrade stance, something that wasn’t solidified until Resurrection which, like Romulus, saw their Xenomorphs forged through genetic manipulation, not the natural processes or life cycle for the creatures. I was able to connect all of the threads and genuinely accept that Xenos can exist in an infinite number of forms, that the goo is hard coded to “create” a version of that creature. David's stupid f*cking experiments, explaining some sh*t that needed no explanation, can just be the version HE developed. His iteration to these random horrors, is the Queen. I imagine his version is the first version to have the egg. That is how HIS Xenomorph develops. I get that. I understand that. That's why the Big Chap in Alien is slightly different than the ones in Romulus. Different strain, but engineered from David's attempt. It's still dumb, but it makes it easier to accept whatever the f*ck is going on in the comics.

What really hammered it home for me was the Xeno-baby at the end of the film. Seeing that thing basically grow into a cross between a Xenomorph and Engineer was wild, all thanks to the nu-goo. It really threw me back to all those Kenner alien variations and, just like that, I got it. I got Prometheus. I got Covenant. I got Alien as a macro franchise and not just one of my favorite two films. It was a rough, four decade journey, but we got back to zero. Romulus does not work without the soft canonization of the prequels and I am okay with that because of how good it is. This is an Alien film, through and through, course-correcting the franchise in a similar way Prey did with Predator. It feels like Fede gets it and I can’t wait to see what the sequel has in store because this thing pretty much doubled its budget. It’s definitely getting another one. Unless the show is balls. If Aliens: Earth tanks, I might have another four decades of bullsh*t ahead of me because I kind of hate what Marvel is doing on the comic end of things. The games are dope at least.

[wedreamedlove]

【Portrait of Psyche EVENT】

"You are the only one who can re-carve my soul."

For this event, Osborn and his heroine talk about the traits of the animal that suits him best, a black panther. His part in naming the badge you get for coloring the panther (default colors shown here, but you can color it however you want) is giving it the meaning of "recasting" as in melting metal and reshaping it.

1. SWIFTNESS

"Speaking of which, black panthers and racecars have a lot in common."

I used my fingers to mimic a racecar and drove swiftly on my arm until, when I rushed out of the "racetrack", my fingers were smoothly caught by Osborn.

"If there was a race between a racecar and panther, it'd probably be really exciting." Osborn's eyes flickered with a light of wanting to give it a shot.

"Just imagining it makes me feel like I've seen the pinnacle of speed."

The light in Osborn's eyes focused on me and he raised the corners of his lips.

"Because my destination is always you."

2. BOLD RESOLUTENESS

"Is bold resoluteness a compound of courage and willpower?" I rarely used these words together normally, so I wasn't too sure of their meaning. "If it is, then it really is appropriate as a description for you."

"It's pretty novel for such a morally righteous word to be used on me." Osborn tilted his head and looked towards me. "But I like these sort of compound descriptions, it's like my feelings for you where I also can't find a single word to summarize them."

3. AGILENESS

"Not only does an excellent hunter have outstanding kinesthesia, but also their mind isn't bad."

I rose onto my toes and patted Osborn's hair. Sure enough, my fingers had yet to leave his hair before my wrist was immediately grabbed.

"You still dare to ambush me with such a slow reaction speed?" Osborn lowered his eyes to me and smiled teasingly, his fingers gently caressed my wrist bone.

"I can't dodge you no matter how much I increase my reaction speed, so it's better to give up."

I smilingly met Osborn's eyes which gradually turned more predatory.

"Indeed. It's pretty good having this knowledge early. At any rate, you already can't get away."

4. UNBRIDLED

"Black panthers are not social animals and by dissociating from the group they can conceal themselves in the dark at any time."

This was a book's description on black panthers and I sunk into thought.

"So, do black panthers live alone because of their unbridled nature?"

An ambivalent smile appeared on Osborn's lips. "Unbridled to the point where they aren't willing to be bound by a group? Or unbridled to the point where they are only willing to be bound by one person?"

"Maybe both?"

With a clack, Osborn turned on the lights in the room. "It's enough as long as he has a light that belongs to him in the dark."

5. WILDNESS

In regard to this word, several images inadvertently appeared in my mind.

"Your neck and ears are all red, what did you think of?" Osborn nonchalantly played with my fingers and waited for my confession.

"I just think... there's a sense of beauty in a black panther's musculature, like a sort of wild vitality."

Osborn suddenly laughed and then unexpectedly leaned close to me.

"Are you sure you're talking about black panthers and not something else? If you aren't sure, I can give you one chance to verify this."

6. STEADINESS

"Upon looking closely at your eyes, they're a bit like a black panther's eyes." I got close to Osborn's eyes and he cooperatively lowered his head a little.

"The color of my eyes or something else?"

"It's that feeling of steadiness, like you're able to lie in wait in the bushes for an entire night in order to kill your prey in one shot."

The light shifted and Osborn squinted his eyes. His restrained aura of danger turned into languidness and his gaze fell lightly onto me.

"This is a hunter's knowledge. So, I have limitless patience towards things—or people—I'm interested in."

[gffa]

Buncha scattered thoughts about trying out some different TV shows and whether or not I’d recommend them so far: - The Last of Us, with only a basic understanding of the plot of the games, I’m otherwise going in basically blind on this one and I’ve been enjoying the HBO adaptation a ton so far!  Very much at the top of the “if you’re looking for a show to binge and don’t mind horror and sad stories, TO WATCH” list!  The chemistry of the characters and the stunning scenery and well-paced scenes makes it thoroughly watchable. - Shrinking, I’ll give pretty much anything Bill Lawrence produces a shot (Scrubs, Cougar Town, Ted Lasso) and I’m charmed from the first episode.  You’ll always get fun banter and funny dialogue, but I’m already engaged with the characters because he has a way of writing snarky characters who still have a ton of heart.  The therapist’s hot mess of a life is offset by how genuinely he cares about his patients, openly and honestly.  I am a sucker for people who banter but aren’t afraid to put their heart on their sleeve. - The Light in the Hall, which I can’t talk about without spoiling the ending, but I wound up disappointed by this one.  The story is fairly predictable and the acting is top-notch, but I was frustrated by [redacted] being the only [redacted] and of course they end up being the murderer, all in service of making a woobie out of the [redacted].  It left a bad taste in what was otherwise a strong show. - Poker Face, I am not Rian Johnson’s biggest fan, but I like his work a lot more when he seems to be writing a love letter to a genre that he wants to pay homage to, to build a tribute to it, rather than subvert it.  I like that it’s quirky but keeps a lid on the amount of it, it feels like it’s having fun with the concept of this version of Columbo, and it knows that you’re here to watch Natasha Lyonne do her thing and it loves watching Natasha Lyonne do her thing, too. - His Dark Materials, which I love the adaptation, having never read the books it still feels like you can tell they were adapted with love and it works as a coherent storyline.  The actors are incredible, each of them are great on their own, but then having fantastic chemistry with each other, and I’m very taken with the themes of the story, around religion and knowledge and free will and independent thought.  Sprinkle in that the main character gets to be an angry, often messy, often very loud about her feelings character, and I’m in. - The Price of Glee, I went into this one hoping that it would at least be something of a tell-all about what went on behind the scenes, because I bet that would be fucking wild, given what we already know.  But after the first episode and skimming the later ones, it seems to be focused more on (as the title suggests) how much it cost these people to be part of it.  Which, you know, fair.  But not quite what I was looking for, so I’ve set it aside for now. - The Owl House, 10/10 no notes.  It’s been so satisfying to see a lot of character arcs come to fruition, even if the season has been massively truncated.  Luz’s struggle between which world she wants to stay in, the maturation of her relationship with Amity, the reconnection with her mother, all of that is fantastic.  The acknowledgement of Willow’s feelings and the support she gets from her friends, Hunter’s willingness to open up about his own feelings, also so much good.  Worldbuilding bits and pieces with the Collector and that I’m already engaged with wanting that poor kid to have better influences, yeah, that’s the stuff. - Three Pines, which I mostly picked up because I like Alfred Molina and he is indeed very charismatic and warm in this series, which has some pretty scenery and a very cozy feeling.  I’ve never read the books this is based on, but it feels like the show very much knew that it wanted to be a charming little murder mystery series with a connective throughline and it was exactly that.  I wouldn’t call it light-hearted, it has some lovely emotional weight, it has characters who very openly care about others, but I would still say it was a very warm show. - Avenue 5, which got off to a bit of a rocky start in its second season for me, but by the end of it, I was enjoying the absolute flaming trainwreck the whole thing is and how, when you lean into the chaos along with the show, it’s pretty hilarious.  I love the characters and I want to know where it’s going from here, I’m going to be so pissed if HBO doesn’t renew it for a third season. - The Sex Lives of College Girls, I enjoyed the first season of the show enough to binge the whole thing and I liked the girls’ friendships with each other and it felt like there was a lot of heart here.  I don’t know what happened with the second season, if it’s me or the show but nothing felt like it was clicking anymore and I finally had to drop it.  First season is adorable, totally worth watching as a stand-alone show!  Second season, idk maybe others liked it more than I did! - Criminal Mind Evolution, I was willing to pick this show back up again because I still have fondness for the actors and the characters, but after two episodes I had to rage quit.  The writing just isn’t working for me, its leaning into everything I grew to be frustrated with or outright hate about the original and even a character like Garcia’s warmth feels forced and unearned.  Dropped and will not be going back.

[likeadog]

god i hate the weird superiority complex people get over reading. i have such a complicated history w reading bc i couldnt read until 4th grade (i could read and say the words but i Literally could not process them in any capacity) and from then until like 8th grade i would read anywhere from 10-15 books a year. and then it stopped clicking for me again and i progeessively got worse and worse. and like ive gotten better over the last year or 2 but i still cant read outloud without stumbling over my words and stuttering really bad or skipping things and its So frustrating. and for a long time suddenly losing my ability to read cohesively made me Hate reading because i used to be so good at it. idk its just frustrating and dishearteninf that after all of that and learning to enjoy it again people think its appropriate to lord having an easier time reading over others bc ppl having that attitude is part of why i struggled to pick it back up which has only really happened in the last year or so

YEAH. YEAH YEAH. COSIGNED

while not on the same level after um. gestures to my brain. the problems began i dropped off on reading and i just remember the last like 2-3 years being so incredibly frustrated i cant do what i used to be able to do as a kid. and im still a pretty freakishly fast reader (even if i have to go back to re-comprehend or remind myself bc my short term memory is Shot).

and its odd because when you ask these uh. bibliophiles i suppose what counts as reading you get some wild answers like. ive been beating myself up over not reading more books but im literally always digging through some pdfs or articles but that doesnt count i guess. nor does audiobooks or graphic novels (?) . its so fucking goofy like we get it you want fuck oscar wilde for your dark academia lifestyle but dont make it everyone elses problem. if you want to be an oppressed nerd so bad ill push you into a locker grow the fuck up

and it all just circles back around to ableism like truly. and then the shit they read isnt even good boooo tomato tomato tomato

anyway my strategy for reading improvement has been like. either juggling or like in any order but trying to do a 3 prong approach with reading something below my skill level, something at my skill level, and then something above my skill level + take notes when possible. i also write in my books lol who give a shit