#ugh very compelling with the suffering on their own and then put them together sufferer + sufferer = ultimate suffering like PLEASE

[xiaoluclair]

#i cant tell if you’re revelling in their suffering nonsie or mourning at it but either way you have great taste in twink

THANK U for complimenting my taste in twink also i mourn at their suffering but revel in the potential narrative like they were suffering epically all on their own and then suddenly they were suffering directly in relation to one another in a unfortunate series of one blow after the next after the next after the

and then they threw memes at the situation on the internet to cope silly4silly indeed

they're licherally the personification of "my dad always told me to fight fire with fire. anyway, he was a firefighter" or like pie flavored pie or that pigs in bacon stuff. just imagine something and then multiply it by itself and boom, charlando.

[pippki-writes]

An Ill-Fitting Name: Snippet 10

NOTES:

Snippet 1; Snippets 2 & 3; Snippet 4; Snippet 5; Snippet 6; Snippet 7; Snippet 8; Snippet 9

Faoust belongs to @thebiggestnerd - she writes him, Isaiah and Detective Voros here are mine.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Isaiah has thought about texting Faoust many times. But no, he said he’d leave him alone. And besides, what the hell would he say? Where do you even begin?

Faoust thinks about texting Isaiah sometimes too, but like Isaiah, has no clue what to say either.

Both of them, sometimes, thinking about the other, phone in hand, pulling up their messages, beginning to type something, anything—but stopping short. Nothing is quite right. Delete the words that will never suffice, put the phone back down.

Serendipity finally strikes—both Isaiah and Faoust have their texts open at the same time, starting to type and then deleting something only to see the other one’s “...” typing dots show up.

Both stop, pause, to see what the other was going to type. A stalemate, as now neither is typing, dots frozen on the screen.

Isaiah waits to see if Faoust was going to say something. But shit. He knows Faoust saw him typing. He should just leave him alone. He puts the phone down for a second. No. Maybe he should say something. He picks the phone back up. He chews on his lip for a second, thinking.

Well it’s not like Isaiah has much else to do, is there? He feels...strangely nervous. Hell. He starts to type.

Isaiah: “sorry. I know you saw me typing. I wasn’t trying to bother you. Just. Thought about you. Should’ve kept it to myself, I know”

Whatever he’d originally been typing, of course, is not exactly any of that.

Faoust doesn't know what the fuck to say. He doesn't want to admit he'd been thinking about him too.

Faoust: "Interesting. Thanks."

Isaiah lays back on his bed, phone in one hand, nervously opening and closing his knife with the other. What do you say? What do you say when no words can convey the enormity of your own idiocy? That you only recognize looking back and so thoroughly disconnected from who you’d been? What a disaster. He’s surprised to note that he’s...feeling things, isn’t he? That’s a little new. Not sure what to do with that.

Isaiah: “almost could’ve gotten away with it if you hadn’t seen me typing. Oh well. I’ll...go back to leaving you alone”

Faoust: "To be fair, you saw me too. I don't know what to say to you"

Isaiah: “I was gonna be polite and not call you out on that. But yeah.”

Isaiah: “I don’t know what to say either”

Isaiah: “feels like there’s something to be said, but I’m too stupid to figure it out”

Faoust: "I'm not stupid and I still don't know what to say. I guess emotionally we're stupid"

Isaiah: “could be. I’ve just been thinking a lot on everything. And ..wow”

Isaiah: “what a disaster”

Isaiah: “I was a piece of shit...but I sure did ruin a good thing”

Faoust: "Yeah.Yeah you did."

Isaiah: “sorry is pretty insufficient to cover it”

Faoust: "it's a start"

Isaiah: “I’m sorry. You were a friend and I didn’t know what to do with that”

Faoust: "apparently try to kill me? Fuck with my head?"

Faoust: "That's not entirely fair of me. I was going to kill you for fucking with my head. That's not exactly rational behavior"

Isaiah sits up on the bed. He has thought about this a lot, the rough shape of what he wants to say next. The words are never exact as he’s turned them in his mind, but he wants to try to tell them anyway.

Isaiah: “ok, do you want to know what Asmodai was thinking? About you, specifically? Would that help?”

Isaiah: “not to excuse anything of what I did, of course, but to understand maybe?”

Faoust: "O..kayyy?"

Asmodai would rather have died than admit any of this—but in a way, he did, didn’t he? Isaiah, on the other hand, feels almost eager to pry Asmodai’s thoughts and feelings open, to offer them up for Faoust to know.

Isaiah: “he loved spending time with you. He loved going and murdering the shit out of people together. He loved fucking with you more than any of the endless parade of hookup app fucks he summoned up. You had power over him—without you around, these things weren’t as enjoyable. And that fucked him up. He couldn’t deal with that. He wanted you to suffer, because he suffered enjoying things less off on his own. It’s all very fucked up. I don’t know what to say.”

Isaiah: “and now I just know the ghosts of all these feelings, and I don’t feel that shit. But. I was thinking about you. I don’t know”

Faoust: "well that's very frustrating, I'm sure you understand"

Isaiah: “yeah. Sorry”

Faoust: "and what about you? What do you feel?"

Isaiah licks his lips. This is what he was dancing around, hesitant to admit of himself.

Isaiah: “I don’t feel like killing you, or making you suffer for whatever fucked up reasons, or any of that bullshit. But. Even though I’m not him, and I don’t feel that shit......it’s weird.....I think I might miss you”

Faoust sighs and rubs his temples.

Faoust: "I think I might miss you too"

Isaiah is easily up to a dozen victims. All have been reported missing.

Detective Voros looks at a map with dots for every home address of a missing person for the past six months. Nope. She switches to a map with last known locations instead, but still, no pattern emerges. She pulls up a list of each missing person by name, and the last known contact for each missing person. Who last saw them (alive, she can’t help but add cynically). And for every missing person in nearly the past month, the last contact was an officer of some kind. From her own agency. She closes her laptop and stares out into the night.

What.

The.

Fuck.

The first thing Detective Voros checks on the next missing person report that comes in is whether the person had contact with the police that day. Sure enough, the police are not the last person this guy had contact with, but there’s a field contact for the missing young man as a witness in an assault perhaps an hour earlier.

She wishes she hadn’t noticed this. Noticing it means eventually she’ll be compelled to do something about it. What seems most likely is that she’s looking for a suspect in the department. And this many missing people is far too many for them to be kept alive. Not. Fucking. Good.

She clicks the pen in her hand. The pattern here really only started this month. Who would be so reckless? There’s maybe one or two missing persons reported that don’t fit—detritus, she can’t help thinking, the sort of people no one cares much when they go missing, druggie dropout types, but all the others. They fit. She’s briefly grateful for the high missing person rate of this town, because it means no one higher up has started pressing hard on this yet.

Detective Voros stops clicking her pen as realization of a potential lead dawns on her.

God, ugh. She’s so fucking stupid.

The victim who wouldn’t talk.

Who someone probably had tried to kill.

It couldn’t be coincidence, could it?

Maybe it could. Maybe it could.

In her patrol car, she groans in great annoyance. Even though she’s made detective, short staffing regularly keeps her on patrol. Luckily? Unluckily? Tonight is a patrol night. The weather is unusually warm, and the citizens are up to no good. Before she can put herself on a self initiated follow up, she’s dispatched to a call.

On the one hand, Isaiah has already killed someone today. On the other hand, the weather is perfect to go out looking for trouble. It would be almost criminal to stay in his motel room as nice as it is. He goes for a walk.

Faoust texts Isaiah finally.

Faoust:  "As much as it seems like a bad idea, I'll give you another shot"

Isaiah immediately texts back, because he is so far past the bullshit of playing games and hell, he hasn’t talked to anyone in ages really. He says nothing to his victims, these days.

Isaiah: “I defer to your judgment. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, etc. was just out for a walk”

They meet for coffee. They catch up, though there isn’t much to tell of Isaiah’s life besides his return to killing. It’s so different from the theatricality of Asmodai, the way he murders now. Faoust wonders whether it would even work, them killing together again, as he has his sort of ritual compared to the quick, clean efficiency that Isaiah has now adopted. But Isaiah assures him, as much as Faoust once waited around for the deranged things he did as Asmodai, he wouldn’t mind waiting around for Faoust.

That covers the murder friends part, but what about the friends with benefits aspect of what they’d had before? Faoust tactfully asks about whether Isaiah is interested in that as well.

“I have been thinking about this too,” Isaiah says, picking lightly at the paper sleeve on his coffee cup. “Sex is for the living, and I’ve only just begun coming around on accepting that’s what I am. Living, I mean. And that I have to figure out what I want to do with...This fucked up life I’ve inherited from myself.” He stops and sighs. “There are a lot of mistakes Asmodai made that I’d like to avoid repeating. But fucking you was not one of those mistakes.”

Isaiah having killed so many people in the same town in such a short timespan is too reckless for the two of them to do any more of it that night. But spending some time reacquainting themselves with one another violently on top of the motel sheets? A perfect way for Faoust and Isaiah to spend the evening.

They don’t limit themselves to the sheets. There’s also the floor, the wall, the cheap plywood of the dresser. There is something almost feral about the two of them together.

“Do be rough with me, will you?” Isaiah says when they first got back to the motel room, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Faoust’s pants, pulling their hips together. “Think I’d like that.”

Faoust doesn’t think at all. His body moves on muscle memory, the familiar feeling of Asmo—no, Isaiah, he corrects himself at one point—beneath his hands. The same, and yet not the same. The same lips, crushed to his own. The same deliciously thick, fluffy hair to pull on. Isaiah is not as loud as Asmodai was, but there is a deep, deep satisfaction in his moans.

Isaiah was right.

He very much likes this.

Detective Voros manages to weasel the regular patrol officers into being the ones to take people down to the Magistrate’s Office. She merely dispenses her wisdom to the combatants—“THERE’S A FUCKING PANDEMIC ON, STOP FIGHTING INSIDE THE GODDAMN WAFFLE HOUSE”—and finally puts herself en route to a motel just outside of town for a follow up.

She pulls up in the parking lot and sits in her car for a moment, filling out one of the little contact cards, as it is her—hope? Expectation?—that the door will not be answered when she goes to knock.

Detective Voros nods at the card, gets out of the patrol car, and walks up to the room, hoping he might still be staying in the same room as before, if only so she doesn’t have to apologize to a stranger. She could check with the front desk but ugh, sounds like work. She sighs, and hates that she ever had two brain cells run into each other to have this thought of a lead to pursue, and knocks on the door firmly twice

“Mr. James?”

Faoust, just barely dressed and getting ready to leave, looks bewildered at Isaiah. Isaiah’s eyebrow goes up as he quietly scrambles out of bed, pulling on his shirt and pants. He makes a face as he debates whether to answer the door.

Detective Voros tucks the card into the doorframe as she speaks. “It's your favorite local law enforcement representative. I was hoping to talk to you for some leads on who it was that put you in the hospital. Think it might be connected to some other cases we’ve got, and, well, you’re our only hope Obi-Wan. Or however the fuck that quote goes.”

Isaiah sighs, sets his shoulders, and slowly goes over to the door, opening it a few feet and peering out. “Hm?”

The card flutters to the ground, and Detective Voros, who’d already started walking away, spins on her heels.

“Mr. James! The magical vanishing devil himself.” She looks at his incredibly messy hair.  “Hope I didn’t wake you. Forgot, do you go by Asmodai or Isaiah? Which do you prefer?”

Isaiah feigns a yawn. “I prefer someone who visits at a reasonable time.”

“Hey, I prefer when victims tell me shit they know right from the get go, but I guess neither of us got what we wanted here.”

Isaiah leans against the doorframe, holding the door with his arm as Faoust listens from behind the door. “Hm.”

“Ennnnntywaaay, I was hoping perhaps some quality healing time might’ve helped your memory vis-a-vis that assault, or shall I reckon it, probable attempted murder, that put you in the hospital? Anything at all you remember about the bastard or bastards that fucked you up?”

Isaiah shakes his head sadly. “‘Fraid not officer. Too much head trauma, that’s what the doctors seem to think. The whole night is simply a blank.”

This is far from true. Isaiah remembers with startling clarity every awful minute, every painful blow. It would be real fucking nice if he couldn’t remember, actually. He’s gotten used to the twinge of pain deep in his bones, and mostly accepts and ignores it.

“Well that’s a real fucking inconvenience, Mr. James. Because I don’t believe you, and I wasn’t kidding, you might be the only lead I’ve got in a much bigger case. I’m not gonna stand here and argue with you. But if you find yourself magically remembering something that might help—“ she snatches the card off the ground and hands it to him “—call me, would you?”

Isaiah takes the card, pretends to look at it, and tucks it in his pocket. “Of course officer. I do wish I could help.”

Detective Voros presses her lips together. “Do you. Do you really. Hm. Whatever.” She goes back to her patrol car and sits in the parking lot.

Isaiah shuts the door and takes the card back out of his pocket.

“Is she gonna be a problem?” Faoust asks.

Isaiah holds the card in one hand and brushes it against the fingers of the other thoughtfully. “Not sure. Maybe. She, well, rightly I suppose, thinks I know more about my assault than I’ve told them. And now seems to think it’s connected to something else? It was her radio I stole, by the way.”

“Looks like we might have found an officer to kill.”

Isaiah nods. “Might have to, yeah.”

“Or we could go a more direct route. She still out there?”

Isaiah peeks out the window. “There’s a patrol car in the parking lot, so I’ll say yeah.”

“This is either a great idea or a terrible one. At any rate, I'll see you later yeah?”

Isaiah quirks his eyebrow. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Faoust opens the door and heads directly over to the patrol car. He slams his hand on the roof of the car, leaning down to put himself at her level.

“Evening officer.”

Detective Voros, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. “Oh it’s you, solid citizen. Fuck, what was your name? Not fuck. Hm.” She looks from him back toward Isaiah’s room, and back to Faoust. “Made up with your friend I see?”

“Never had an issue with him.”

“Of course. My mistake. I’ve been breaking up Waffle House brawls all night.”

“Ok here's the thing. Stop asking questions. We both can tell you don't want the answers. I will give you one free question, then you fuck off.”

“Unfortunately for every goddamn one of us, I’ve kind of been promoted to a position where asking questions is my damn job. But gee, your cooperation would be fantastic if you know something about the case I’m working on.”

“I'm telling you now. For your sake and mine. If it comes back to him?” Faoust jabs a thumb towards the motel room. “You don't want anything to do with it. You're a cop. You're good at not doing your job properly. Make it go away.

“But I'm a man of my word. You get one question I'll answer truthfully. Then you go away and don't come back.”

Detective Voros rubs the side of her head. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

After a pause, she rests her hands on her duty belt, and against better judgment speaks. “I think you know shit too. People have been going missing for a while. None of them ever get found. Your friend there is the first missing person in a year to be found. And now we’re back to more missing people again. A dozen at least in under a month. And I don’t think these are missing persons cases. I think this is one big goddamn string of homicide investigations that we’re too stupid to realize. What I haven’t decided is whether your friend is protecting someone else, or is he just scared of whoever’s doing this, I don’t fucking know. But I can’t just ignore shit this big, and I can hardly come up with one fucking question to ask you to make it worthwhile.”

Faoust shrugs. “Then you lose your chance at any knowledge. And when I say it's better for you to ignore this? I mean it.”

“How the fuck—wait no!! That’s not my question.” Detective Voros practically growls, eyes narrowed at Faoust, thinking. “....give me a second.”

“I got all night.”

Detective Voros didn’t make detective because she was smart, or good at interviewing people. She made detective because of dumb luck, because of shit she tried not to look too closely into, and perhaps very specifically because of these two assholes. Maybe somewhere in the world there is a smart detective who would know exactly what to ask to get exactly the answer she needs, even if she doesn’t know exactly what she needs. But Detective Voros doesn’t know a fucking thing about how to be a detective. She doesn’t know what to ask to help herself, to help this case, to help stop what she suspects is a lot of murder. She sighs.

“What is it that he knows but won’t tell me?”

Faoust tilts his head from side to side, thinking. “Mmm. Ah. I'm the one who beat the shit out of him.”

“You’re fucking joking! HAH! Wait, wait so my intuition was correct! HAH,” she laughs again triumphantly.

“Yeah, we had a big fight. He tried to kill me, I told him it wasn't going to happen with a baseball bat. Then I decided to let him live.”

Detective Voros looks at Faoust closely. “Be level with me, do I need to go check that he’s still alive in there now?”

Faoust laughs. “No, we made up. I just fucked him.”

Detective Voros nods, and gets the feeling he’s telling the truth. “Good. Didn’t feel like getting out of this car again.” She sighs and stares off, thinking to herself. “So ...the mysterious would-be murderer...probably—“ she spares a side glance at Faoust “—isn’t who I’m looking for as the culprit in my case.”

“Probably not.” Faoust pats the top of her car. “I meant what I said! For your own safety, leave it alone.” He stands up straight and starts walking towards home.

Detective Voros sighs such an aggravated sigh it can be clearly heard all the way across the parking lot. She drives back into town, and decides not to think on this more right now, and gets dispatched to another Waffle House brouhaha for her troubles as soon as she clears from her follow up.

Isaiah realizes, at some point, that Faoust is the first person he’s ever slept with who knows his actual name.

- NEXT SNIPPET -

[luxexhomines]

Hi! Can I have images for maki, shuichi, and rantaro who are dating an S/O who is struggling with their weight due to medical/allergy reasons (for reference, it's called exercise induced anaphylaxis) and is feeling self concious? If you dont want to write an overweight S/O then you can just do the self concious bit

Hi, anon! Thanks for the request. Sorry that it took me forever to fulfill (I thought I wasn’t going to ever get to the requests at the bottom of my inbox, but I looked back and thought I’d like to do some). Icon credit to mckindonalds!

It wasn’t an easy request for me to fulfill since I wasn’t sure what was appropriate for the reader to say or exactly how they felt about it, but this is kind of just a piece of comfort in each one. I hope you find something that you like in these imagines, although I’m unsure if this is what you were hoping for exactly. Hopefully, Maki isn’t too OOC because I didn’t make her very tsundere at all. Under the cut, since altogether it makes the post rather long.

Maki, Shuichi, & Rantaro x S/O with Exercise-Induced Anaphylaxis

Maki Harukawa

Maki rapped on the door politely. She had manners, unlike a certain someone she might name. After a short while, you came to the door. 

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t want to move too fast in case you got sick,” she finishes for you. “I understand,” she says. Contrary to her cold demeanor, her dark red eyes softened around the edges as she looked at you, her beloved, and she came inside the house with the slightest of smiles playing at her lips. 

You lead her to your room, and the two of you sit on the floor and chat. At first, it was only idle chatter: what each of you’d been up to recently, and how the summer weather was treating you. But somehow, you end up saying the words, the feelings you had never wanted to reveal to her. 

“I hate this. I wish I could be normal,” you say spitefully before gasping and covering your mouth. You desperately tried to bite back the tears and stared at the floor heatedly. All the tears you’d been swallowing day after day, night after night, year after year. You could do it again. 

You felt a hand grab yours, and you looked to see Maki’s small but strong grasp on yours. You felt weaker than ever. 

“Hey. Look at me,” she says, and you do. Her eyes are filled with concern and a tinge of sadness. You chew on your lip softly. 

“Maki?” 

She grabs your other hand in hers, too, and somehow it only triggered more feelings you thought you’d left behind long ago. Feelings you buried never really went away; they marinated in the new feelings and warped, but they were still here. Feelings of shame, rage, and self-hatred. 

“Is it so bad to show your weakness to me?” Maki says quietly. “You know I was an assassin, and I’ve talked to you about all the ugly, terrible things I’ve done and seen. They’re not the same at all, but that’s my weakness, and I’ve shared it with you.” 

You tighten your hold on Maki’s hand slightly. Somehow, your hands fit together so perfectly. 

“I thought my weakness was obvious,” you said self-deprecatingly, throwing a wayside glance at yourself. Your body. 

She shakes her head firmly. Without letting go of your hands, she gets on her knees and shifts over closer to you, so that your bodies are almost touching. 

“I know you struggle with losing weight because of your condition,” she says. “But I hadn’t realized that you’d been suffering so much.” 

Maki sounded sorrowful. It was maybe the most emotion you’d ever felt from her, aside from when she had been talking about her time as an assassin or was pissed off by certain people. 

“...Are you disappointed?” you say. You didn’t want to hear the answer if it was yes, but you still asked anyway. 

“No. Never,” she replies, and she looks you right in the eye. “You’re just as strong as you’ve always been. But there’s no harm in sharing your worries and pains with me. I’m your partner. I’m supposed to be here for you, and I want to be here for you.” 

You attempt a weak smile. 

“Is it a part of the contract?” 

She sighs. 

“I’m serious, s/o.” 

“So am I,” you joke, and you feel the heaviness in your heart slowly dissolving. 

Maki presses her forehead to yours. 

The funny thing about being in a relationship with Maki was that she was so much more daring and affectionate than she would’ve been once her feelings were returned. She wasn’t as cold, per se, as she was before you two were together. 

“I love you, s/o.”

Your breath was whisked away by those words, and you froze. 

Maki squeezed your hands gently. “...s/o? Hey, are you not breathing or something?” 

Right. She was close enough to tell. 

You breathed in slowly. 

“Are you sure?” you say. But you know the answer. She wouldn’t say what she doesn’t mean. 

“I’m sure,” she laughs, and she kisses you sweetly. “You’re beautiful.” 

More words that would take away your breath. But you breathe normally this time. She was sweeter than any air you could ever take in, though. 

“I love you too, Maki. And for the record, I’m the ugly one in this relationship.” 

She pouts and draws away slightly, releasing your hands and putting her hands on your shoulders instead so she can look you in the face from the right distance. 

“That would be me,” she says. “You’re always smiling, and you have the most beautiful smile ever. Tell me if anyone says anything to oppose that, and I’ll punch them for you.” 

You chuckle. 

“Your services are always appreciated, but that’s alright. I can punch them myself,” you respond. “But fine. Neither of us is the ugly one. We can both be beautiful.” 

Maki nods in satisfaction. 

“We are both beautiful.” 

You can’t help giggling at her statement. It would sound so funny out of context. She leans in and tweaks your nose slightly. “And what are you laughing at, huh?” 

You bat at her hand. 

“Hey!” 

You fall into a fit of laughter with her, and the two of you lie on the ground, cheeks hurting from smiles and joy. Somehow, it was so easy to feel at ease around her. Even your most heavily guarded worries and pains seemed to sprout wings and fly away in her presence. 

“Thanks, Maki.” 

“What for?” she says and turns to look at you. Her serious expression makes your heart skip a beat, and you wet your lips nervously. Sometimes you still felt like you just had a crush on her instead of being in a real relationship with her. 

“Never mind that,” you reply, and you roll over and press a kiss to her lips. “I need to recharge.” 

She arches an eyebrow. 

“Oh? Well, now that you mention it, so do I.” 

You find yourself in her warm embrace and rather preoccupied for the rest of the day. 

Shuichi

“Shuichi?” 

The two of you were sitting on the couch and, up until that time, had been reading quietly in companionship with each other. He set his book down, probably sensing something in your tone. 

“Yes?” 

You weren’t looking at him, although he had now turned to look at you. Instead, you were poking at your round tummy. 

“Why am I like this?” 

He reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you from poking yourself. You glanced at him, and his dirty gold eyes were serious. 

“Like what?” 

You sighed. 

“You know.” 

He shook his head stubbornly, looking irritated for once. 

“No, I don’t.” 

You struggled to take back your hand, but instead, he somehow made it so the two of you were holding hands snugly. 

“Ugh. Why do I look like this?” you complained and avoided eye contact with him. He was surprisingly persistent when it came to you saying things like this. 

He pulled you closer to him so that you were leaning on him, and let go of your hand only to wrap his arm around you. 

“You look like you. You look lovely.” 

You groaned. 

“But I don’t want to look like this. It’s because I can’t exercise that I’m like this.” 

“Do you think your true self lies elsewhere?” he asks. “Do you think this body isn’t you?” 

You pondered. 

“I don’t really know because I’ve pretty much always been like this. Of course, my body has changed since childhood, but...I’ve never lived without this.” 

There was contemplative silence for a while. Shuichi seemed to always compel you to think more about everything in his presence. 

“...I still love you either way. I know it’s hard, but I’m here for you,” he says solemnly. “I won’t let you just agonize over this alone. You’re my s/o, after all.” 

You turn your head to look at him, and you’re suddenly aware of how close in proximity the two of you are. 

“Is that a promise?” you say, one side of your lips quirking upwards. 

He leans in and boops your nose with his own.

“Always.” 

Rantaro

You were lying on the bed side-by-side with Rantaro, cuddling. He was gently petting your head, as he sometimes did, and you leaned into his touch. It was comfortable and soothing. It would be easy to fall asleep under these circumstances. You sighed. 

“Is something wrong?” he said, sounding slightly concerned. “I think that’s the fifth time you’ve sighed today.” 

“I...no, it’s nothing. I was just thinking.” 

He peered into your eyes curiously. 

“About what?” 

You sighed again. 

“About my condition. And how I wouldn’t look like this if I didn’t have it.” 

He didn’t say much for a moment, just continued to pet your head. Then, he responded. 

“Do you not like your appearance?” 

You bit your lip softly. 

“I wish I was thinner.” 

“And why is that?” 

You reached out and played with a lock of his wavy green hair. 

“Because...I would be more good-looking.” 

Rantaro was quiet for another few seconds, looking contemplative.

“Do you honestly think you would be more good-looking if you were thinner, or is that what society’s conditioned you into thinking? That thinner is more beautiful or handsome?” 

You were frustrated and looked away from those probing eyes. 

“Well, it’s not like it’s just that I wish I was thinner because I think I’m ugly. My condition isn’t exactly healthy.”

He stopped moving for a moment and then continued to pet your head. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Since we’d just been talking about your appearance at first… Well, it’s not an excuse. Aside from your condition causing health issues, I still think you’re as good-looking as good-looking gets, though.” He smiles in that casual, carefree way of his, and you can’t help but forgive him. 

“Alright, alright. Your opinion is the only one that matters, huh?” You arch an eyebrow and smirk at him. “Pretty boy.” 

He raised his hands in defense. 

“Hey, I was born this way.” 

You rolled your eyes and lightly punched him on the shoulder. 

“You were born this way, but you dress this way on purpose.” 

“Ouch,” he grins. “But true. And yes, for the record, my opinion is the only one that matters. At least, when it comes to you. ‘Cause I love you, and I’m blessed to have you in my life.” 

You freeze for a moment and then grinned back at him. 

“I love you too, Rantaro. And I’m lucky to be loved by you.” 

He pulls you into his embrace and affectionately smooches you on your forehead. 

“Ditto.”

[wordcubed-writes]

What if Naruto’s ~Ancient Aliens~ plotline didn’t suck?

Fandom: Naruto

Fanfic: A Different World

Context: "The Uchiha and Senju are descended from ancient aliens and their mom is the final bad guy” plotline in Naruto... kinda sucks. So I’m just going to throw the whole canon out and substitute my own.

____________________

Hagoromo slew the monster. Then he ended the war. He ended the war because he said so, because he was a god, because he held the Ten-Tails and he could pull all the world’s chakra inside himself. For a thousand years, he ruled over the world, carefully laying the foundations for a just and peaceful future.

Then he died.

His sister shook her head and called him a fool. Always distant, ever aloof, she took her half of the Otsutsuki clan and left. She left for the moon, to guard the Ten-Tails’ corpse, and to watch. Hagoromo might be able to hold all the world’s chakra, but Hamura could see the world with a clarity her brother never had. She would, she decreed, give her awful nephews two centuries to make peace, and if they failed, her wrath would turn them to dust. If they failed to uphold the glorious Otsutsuki name, then she would simply ensure there weren’t any left to ruin it.

She’d never been particularly fond of the Impure Lands. They were merely a sinkhole for unworthy souls, after all. She’d humored her little brother anyway, like she always had, but now Hagoromo was dead. Worse than dead, he was stuck in the Grey Lands. What a fool.

Then she died. It was inevitable, really. Like her brother, she’d stayed for far too long in the Impure Lands. Her body became corrupted, and wasted away like a mortal’s. It was embarrassing. Also, painful. Dying was unpleasant, and she was fond of her children, however pitiful the world they called home was. Now she would never see them again.

“Have you learned anything?” he asked as she marched past him, towards the Pure Land. “That pain was only a taste of what all mortals go through. They’ll reincarnate over and over again, hurting over and over.”

“Is that why you wanted me to stay?” she stated more than asked. “To learn? I don’t need whatever it is you think I need. Not in the Pure Land. I am going home. You are free to waste your time in the Grey Lands. Enjoy watching your insufferable children ruin your legacy.”

She never spoke to him again. The Pure Land was short one god, a gap that could never be filled, but she put it behind her.

~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~

The first time Hagoromo Otsutsuki used Creation of All Things was to put away the Ten-Tails. He found it less memorable than seeing the look on Hamura’s face. She’d tried destroying it outright, and found it was beyond even her power.

That she needed help with something was such an affront to her dignity. When she’d grumbled that they might have to work together, while looking so offended at the very thought of admitting weakness, he’d actually snickered. She’d glared at him for that. Her eyes made it a very formidable glare indeed. (It was like the whole world, heaven and earth itself, was made of eyes and all of them were looking at him at once.)

Between the two of them, the greatest monster to ever wander the Impure Lands was crushed. The full power of two of the greatest gods from the Pure Land, the twin wielders of all destruction and all creation, was brought against it. Its spirit was shredded and torn and its body rendered to dust, and even as it simply rebirthed from the Grey Lands the monster found itself reshaped and remade into something less vile.

When it grew weak from their assault, Hagoromo stayed her hand. He would not let her destroy it. Instead, he locked it inside himself. Hamura called him a fool and warned that it would destroy him. He’d looked at her and said that this way, he could try and understand it.

It was bewildering.

But she could see everything, and she watched the monster from the outside in as it changed. He tamed it, somehow, and when he let it out and created nine new shapes for it, she let herself believe that it was no longer a being of pure loathing and cruelty, of violence given boundless form but no function beyond itself.

She was a fool because she’d forgotten how foolish mortals were, and how foolish Hagoromo’s half of the Otsutsuki clan was. If the monster could be tamed, then it could be untamed.

Hamura belittled her brother’s compassion, but she was wise enough to recognize that his heart was big enough for the whole world. The problem was, nobody else could ever measure up. Strife would return as soon as Hagoromo died.

It did.

~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~

The third time Hagoromo used Creation of All Things was when Hamura declared that he owed her for her help with the Ten-Tails, and therefore he should create offspring for her, much as he had done for himself. (That’d been the second time he used Creation of All Things.) In her image, she was careful to specify. Hagoromo had made his own children in his image, and they were every bit as foolish as he was. If her children were crafted after her, they’d at least be sensible.

(They were indeed very sensible, though Hagoromo felt that had little to do with worshiping reason and everything to do with looking down on others. It was easy to disclaim emotion when you thought yourself superior. Hagoromo held others close and grew to care too much. He liked his approach a lot better.)

Their children had children of their own—with, ugh, mortals, though Hamura found mortals tolerable enough if they simply shut their mouths and deferred to the superior Otsutsuki. Hagoromo actually liked them, presumably for the same reason he wasted his time on the tailed beasts.

~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~

Hamura found her nephews grating, but in different ways. Asura was the younger of the two by a full century. He was a weaker version of his father, with the merest sliver of his father’s power but most of his kindness. (“Kindness” was Hagoromo’s word for it, though. Hamura called such a thing by its proper name: shameful indulgence of others.) He was weak, but never seemed to fail. He had... companions? Friends? Family? Whatever it was, Asura possessed some quality that drew others to him, and another, equally strange, quality that compelled him to raise them up, to treat them as equals, to see them thrive alongside him.

Hamura could not understand this—this drive to indulge others even when they had not earned it—but she respected it. Somewhat. Asura’s power lay, not in himself, but in the people around him, and in the world itself. Asura was a fool, but a fool in the same way as his father. He had the same heart, and as soon as she realized that, she understood that he was meant to be Hagoromo’s heir. (If nothing else, Asura respected her wish to be left alone.)

Indra worried her. His eyes were so different from Hagoromo’s and from hers. She wasn’t frightened—Indra could grow in power for a thousand thousand years and still never touch her—but she worried for her brother’s sake. Indra seemed less like Hagoromo’s son and more like the Ten-Tails’.

Indra used his eyes to destroy, like hers. But he used them poorly, and to torment. Hamura was detached from the world as much as possible, to better judge it, and to better destroy what was necessary to keep All Things in balance. Indra held some too close, much like his brother and his father, but pushed some others away, and he was cruel to them. His eyes did not show him All Things, but instead Us and Them.

He seemed driven to power, much like Asura, but only for himself and the tiny handful within his Us. Indra had approached her many times, seeking power, and on the sixth time she laid out her will. She told him that while his brother was a human seeking human power to embetter humanity, Indra was a human seeking divine power only for himself. She warned him that if he continued his pursuit of ruinous power, if he ever became a monster to replace the Ten-Tails, she would destroy him. Hagoromo’s son or not, Hamura would remove him from All Things and place him into Nothing.

She had not been looked at with such hatred since she fought the Ten-Tails. It worried her even more.

~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~~oOo~

Hagoromo Otsutsuki died and war came.

Indra failed to see what Hamura had seen centuries ago. He hadn’t realized Asura became Hagoromo’s heir the moment Indra paired limited compassion with limitless cruelty. So when he heard his father declare Asura the inheritor of his will, Indra attacked his brother even as their father lay dying.

Hamura was furious. How dare they make Hagoromo’s last sight in the Impure Lands be his own children fighting! That fury was precisely why she did not strike. Being too close to something was a mistake. It was not her way. She waited until she was calmer, until her divine will to destroy could come crashing down out of necessity and not anger.

Indra brought suffering and violence to a thriving and peaceful world. He was like a new Ten-Tails, feeding off loss and pain even while destroying others. And the tailed beasts responded. Some fled, either to the deepest ocean or highest mountains, while others became untamed, the foulness around them seeping into their very being and changing them to match.

Almost two centuries later, Indra still fought Asura at every turn. Indra fought to destroy this usurper, this traitor, this once-brother, now-deceiver of their late father. He understood that Asura was weak because he couldn’t stand on his own, because he drew on others for strength when he had none.

Asura cried and cried over and over again, begging Indra to stop. He begged because he was weak. Indra knew this. Asura claimed to fight for something greater than himself, for a world that was better and kinder than the one now at war.

It was vile. Indra and Asura were gods among mortals. How dare Asura defile that heritage. There was nothing greater than them, no principle worth obeying beyond their own greatness. Indra sought power because he alone deserved to have it. The entire world was his inheritance, it was owed to him, and if it wouldn’t be given then he would simply take it by force.

It took Indra two centuries to win, but he still won. He’d eaten of Asura’s flesh—a prize stolen in battle. Asura might’ve had the whole world’s chakra and righteous fury for countless victims living and dead, but Indra was great in a way Asura could never be. That was why Indra had the Samsara Eye and all nine of the tailed beasts, while Asura merely had mortal powers and mortal anger.

When Indra won he ate the rest of Asura’s body, too. Then he raised his hand for Divine Subjugation. He didn’t need to use it—his enemies were already defeated—but he wanted to impress upon his dominion the power he held.

Hamura Otsutsuki swept down from the moon. Indra became dust. As Indra had destroyed the Otsutsuki under Asura for being degenerate and weak, she too destroyed the Otsutsuki under Indra for being too cruel, for embracing the worst of all possible qualities and seeking to purge all they saw as less than them.

As her eyes held Indra’s spirit before her, she said to him: “I will give you eight chances to redeem yourself. Eight chances to understand your brother and learn to value others. You will be reborn once every 900 years—the length of time you lived alongside your brother in peace without ever learning anything. And when those chances are up, if you have failed, if you became a monster in all eight, if you can’t live even one life as nobly as your brother’s, I will remove you from existence, as I promised all those years ago. The heavens will fall and justice will be done.”

Hamura Otsutsuki herself died very soon after that.

She made her last divine order as she lay dying. Her eldest daughter was to come down from the moon. Her own descendants were to safeguard the world from Indra’s worst, should it ever come to that. They were to utterly destroy any new monster that rose up.

Centuries later, from the Pure Land, Hamura was very disappointed. Her daughter had died, as was inevitable. None of her great-grandchildren had inherited her eyes. Instead it was a strange, twisted derivative, no longer the Rebirth Eye but now the White Eye. What was worse, as the centuries passed, as more and more of the original Otsutsuki died, Hamura’s descendants grew more and more mortal.

Soon, the name Otsutsuki was forgotten. Hamura’s daughter’s reincarnation was left to start her own clan from nothing.

She named it after the sun: Hyuuga.

It irked Hamura, that her own descendant should forget which celestial body she came from. But the Hyuuga at least remembered their purpose, if not their name and origins. They treasured the carved stone she’d left them, which told them:

Hold yourselves apart and above the world

So you can judge it all the better

And destroy that which unbalances the world

____________________

Notes: Setup! Now the Hyuuga also have a tablet giving them terrible advice—just like the Uchiha!

(I know I said I’d post about my BNHA villain OCs, but that’s taking longer than I thought, so here’s a random thing from my big Naruto fic to tide you over.)

[bellamygateoldblog]

there's a new ask game going around! what are your fav ships of the decade?!

: I’m picky about ships, I’ll be honest. I do enjoy a great many, but it takes a lot to leave an impression. To have found their way onto this list (of possibly the highest regard) these each have that something special. They’ve made my heart do things, made me pause scenes to compose myself, made me wanna bang my head against a wall, etc.

SO I only have a handful to offer here, but I appreciate you giving me this oppurtunity to fawn over these royal pairings.

Chuck and Blair | Gossip Girl

My most recent devistation, the freshest pick from the list. The scene that marked the very beginnings of their romantic relationship caught me totally by surprise, but most definitely sparked an intriuge deep inside me. Two wrongs make a twisted right.

They’re just so entertaining to me. They’re passionate, sexy and intense, but often have extremely sweet and emotional scenes, domestic-like moments, banter, and they work towards, against, and with the other in an always-twisting partnership.

MMm the way their relationship changes, grows and expands, how it thrives and suffers under different physical conditions but also due to the ever-changing internal emotional climate of each character involved is *chef’s kiss* delicious. Emotionally they’re rarely in the same place at the same time, but when they are there’s a balance and calm. They’re incredibly complicated and yet shockingly simple at the same time. It kept me on my toes. It annoyed me. They’re two characters with deeply-rooted issues and challenges, flaws that need to be dissected, an understanding of themselves and of the world that needs to be reached before they can fully and wholely be brought together as two people rather than two incomplete ideas. I just find there to be so much content to them. They could never be boring. They come back home. To each other, every time. And regardless of however much they still need to work on themselves, they love the other, still, intensely, and sometimes to a harmful degree. And I do also.

There’s so much allure in their chemistry, and they evolve so much throughout the show they’re basically unrecognisable by the end, as people and partners. In this show these characters were ‘falling in love’ with a new person or back in love with an ex every 3-5 working days, but Chuck and Blair, they were a constant. Of course I clinged to it when everything else is so uncertain and fleeting. I find both of these characters to be the most facinating, nuanced characters on the entire show*- throw these two at each other and there’s fireworks in good and not so good very bad ways. I think it’s quite clear why i’d become consumed with such a ship.

*for the sake of my own sanity I choose to ignore the clumsy and irresponsible retcon of Blair’s character somewhere at the end of season four, which was worsened and complicated further in five… i mean GG season five gave me the same ugly feeling as T100 season six. Blair and Bellamy were both major casualities…sometimes denial is your best friend.

Nick and Sabrina | tcaos

These two. The absolute JOY i feel when i think of them…i can’t even explain it. During part one I was indifferent towards the pair- I found them vaguely intriguing mostly because Harvey/Sabrina was a snooze-fest and I found Nick to be a lot spicier and more compelling as a character- but come part two and cue me *falling in love* in the most unexpected ways. Now I’m attached and fully prepared to have my heart broken.

In my experience, the best ships are those that come out of nowhere and sweep you off your feet. Suddenly you’re anticipating more content of them together, and without ever having a hand in it at all you found a new love. This is them. Nick is so gentle with and about Sabrina, completely defying everything it means to be a ‘bad boy’ type in the process, as is she with him.

SO going on a tangent but it’s eventually relevant- to my delight, the writers have avoided falling into The Good Protagonist hole with Sabrina. She’s got flaws. A lot. She fucks up. A lot. She’s special, it’s at the core of her character, but she’s not placed upon a narrative pedestal. Which means she doesn’t come across as being more than him at any point. And, while a lot of writing of f/m couples have remnants of misogyny, whether intentional or not, it’s like…completely absent here. Which means he doesn’t ever come across as more than her, either! He’s written as protective without treating her like a delicate passive in her own life. He’s shown valuing her needs and supporting her ambitions rather than challenging or questioning them. They are equals in every sense of the word and that makes them so easy to root for. He goes to the bottom of the ocean for her- just in the middle of an episode, it’s no biggie, he’s just- “hey babe” when he gets back. And they are both prepared to walk into literal hell for eachother.

There’s such a deep respect between them, emotional vulnerability and expression, there’s communication, there’s supporting and belonging. SHE TAUGHT HIM HOW TO LOVE. They are so well matched and at no point did I feel like there was something missing in them. UGH part three cannot come soon enough- i’m all like: *FRAGILE, please handle with care*.

Eliott and Lucas | Skam France

Evak, and any variation of them, needs no explanation as to why it’s so iconic. It just is. I can’t put a finger on what exactly it is about them I’m so fond of, i’ve never been able to, but they give me heart ache. I think these two might be my favourite version of Isak and Even as characters so, naturally, so is their relationship. I cherish the ships that have a certain intensity to them. And I’m a romantic. I choose Elu.

Will and Mike | Stranger Things

This is the softest ship I’ve ever had. My liking of it developed so subtly that I didn’t even notice it until…well, now. From season three. I’m not as giddy for this one as I am for the others on this list, but they popped into my head when I read the question so that‘s a sign I probably subconsiously wanna include them.

The friendship between Will and Mike is just so pure and sweet, and as much as i adore their dynamic exactly as it is, taking this into romantic territory could actually work and I might be surprised by it, but I also wouldn’t be surprised at all. There’s just something about the way Mike is with Will that I love so much. Mike is the one there to comfort him whenever something goes wrong, Mike is his best friend. Despite them both belonging to a group with two other boys they seem closest. And if the implications of Will’s sexuality do eventually lead to him being canonically gay, i say why not? Why not go there? Let’s add another one to the Finn Wolfhard gay character cinematic universe.

[ralfstrashcan]

3x19 Reaction / Commentary

I didn't even skip breakfast today, it's almost as if I'm a real functioning adult ahahaha.

SDFALFJSKLDFJASDF I'M ALREADY A MESS

Ngl those first few shots made me think I had fallen headfirst into a zombie apocalypse movie. Wind swooshing through the speakers, no living soul in sight, no cars driving, just Magnus walking along the street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams hahahahaha sorry I'll stop.

Wow what a jerk.

There's been so many hilarious jokes about the “What fool summoned you” line, and my favorite one will forever remain this.

So, points to Magnus for asking, minus points for buying this shit not-sound-at-all story. Even “fatherly love” can't just screw the laws of nature, okay, Magnus shouldn't just skim over this. Then again I can definitely cut him slack on this because he is a little preoccupied with other problems at the moment.

Listen, Magnus's body language throughout this whole scene (and also throughout the sneak peek we saw for 3x20) is so expressive. Imma skim over it because I plan to do a thorough Relationship / Scene Analysis for Magnus and Asmodeus, so let me just leave this picture here uncommented.

No wait, I have a question. Isn't Magnus's magic occupied with guarding Lilith's home? Did Asmodeus pick it up before summoning himself or did he call it just now? Also, does Asmodeus know that Lilith is on the loose? Then again, is she even? Because no Shadowhunter can be bothered to look for her and she did say that she wanted to go back to Edom... but that was probably a lie to get Cain to cooperate. And how could she even send herself back to Edom? So many questions. Anyway moving on because who cares about Lilith.

Magnus's face when he gets his magic back. ....................yes I have no witty words here, sorry.

Lol okay I have. I love this scene, I absolutely LOVE Magnus's face and how expressive it is, but I've also been dreaming of an epic eye-sparkling, energy-crackling mid-battle-scene where Magnus regains his magic for uhhhh almost a year now, and in terms of dramatic-ness this was pretty anti-climactic. And I think we can agree he won't lose his magic again and then get it back in a more dramatic fashion. Also where are his cat eyes I feel cheated.

I mean, come on, even he gets to show them!! Btw what a dick cunning move to use them to manipulate Magnus. Since they made a compelling argument the first time around.

Also LOL Asmodeus playing nice for one second and when Magnus denies him he immediately shows his hand with “I won't take no for an answer.” Man has no patience XD

Finally I wanna give a huge HUGE shout out to Magnus for resisting Asmodeus becuase can you even imagine how low he must be feeling and yet he has enough presence of mind left to realize that whatever comfort Asmodeus offers can't be true, there must be a hook and it's best to stay away. Dude what strength.

“I only lost sight of her for a minute.” “Enough time for the Evil Rune to have taken hold.”

Uuuhhhh since when?? Did they also go to the bathroom together before?? Did I miss that?? I mean, sure, Clary was drifting sometimes, but she spent a whole half episode in the same cell as Jonathan with Jace “away” behind the glass wall and out of her sight, so...... yeah. This is a little sudden.

She keeps saying that but we have yet to see her actually filter anything. #nofilter

“No one can hurt us if we get to Morning Star first. And once we have that sword the entire world will be terrified of us....”

So he wants that evil sword not to open a rift but to keep the NY Shadowhunters off his back so he can live his life in peace. I-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g.

Yes, good. Finally learned your lesson.

.............Or not??? I mean it's not like Clary pretended to be on his side before, to lull him into a false security and gain the upper hand. Why would he fall for it now? Because he acts like Jace is the only risk factor here, and Clary is of course truly and wholly on his side. I mean, true, the circumstances are different since she freed him and all, but like. Guy must have trust issues by now. Where are they.

Also

he should start a self help group with Alec hahahahahaha *weeping*

Me, waiting for the next episode of Shadowhunters. (Also I just noticed Simon says “me neither” not “mine neither” so it sounds as if he's not Izzy's thing, either and LOL I couldn't agree more ahahaha.)

Uh-huh, I agree. Perfect timing. I mean, it's not like there was a glaring 98% there earlier, and as if he didn't have plenty of time before to bring this unfortunate line of conversation up. This is on you, Simon. Don't blame the filtering.

HAHAHA ASK ALEC, HE'S GOING TO THROW IT AT HIM HAHAHAHAHAHA

Seriously though. Just, uh, crush it into powder, add some saline solution, done. And I'm not even a scientist. This is intuitive. The heck.

I'm 1000000% on board with all of this, okay. Over excited Alec is the best Alec. Handholding is the best. Magnus's weariness of surprises is headcanon confirmed. Yes to all of it.

So there were a few lines that were widely interpreted as allusions to their kinky sex life and tbh I never bought any of it because I thought it was seeing too much where there was nothing, but this is so very obviously meant in a kinky way that I'll accept it. Another headcanon confirmed ahahaha this episode is so generous to me.

Ugh I'm so gonna have to write something about that. And knowing myself, it'll be sad closeted Alec daydreaming of all the things he can never have.

Question time, what are those weird rivets thingies? Do they hold any meaning? Is their placement of importance? Because they look very deliberate and very there. I'm confused.

Also, this scene was designed to drive me crazy. There's 7 different shots where we see the lock's placement and there are no less than 3 (!!!!!) different placements. Placement #1, #3 and #5 are consistent (though really, #1 and #5 shouldn't even count because they are clearly the same shot, just with Magnus's hand reaching for the lock) on the left side of the yellow lock, to the bottom left of the Dips lock.

Then we see Alec placing it in an empty compartment at the very edge of the construction (placement #2), only for it to be on the compartment below that in the next shot (placement #4), sharing space with a little gray-blueish lock. This is the same place from where Magnus removes it then (placement #6).

I hate inconsistencies, okay, and I really did notice all this the first time watching. I can't not-see stuff like this. The only fun that comes out this detail obsessiveness is the lock that clearly ships Captain America and Captain Marvel (left) and the lock that was placed from two years in the future (right) because ahahahaha did the show forget it takes place in 2016?? It would seem so.

And yes, I chose to focus on this instead of the fact that Magnus incinerates their lock because that hurts my heart too much to think about, okay. That scene was perfect, the music swelling in all the right places and just. So heart-wrenching. I might've teared up a little. You can't prove anything.

Why she not removing those paper thingies? Seems impractical.

Paint on face trope? Check.

Yeah Raphael, lemme pay you some respect for facing your mistakes like that. I like it a lot.

Istg if they don't give him GPS this time and just rely on the tracking rune again, which Jonathan and Clary will insist he blocks, then imma flip my shit.

.......................so many fanfics want to be written here, okay. So many.

Also is no one gonna talk about the fact that they all put the ring on the pointer when that's not the intuitive position to place a ring? For security reasons alone you should put it on your middle finger so it doesn't accidentally slip off. Oh right, I forgot. Magic ring.

I love how Alec's voice wavers and you just know he sends Jace away because he'll start crying if he doesn't (even if in this screen cap Alec looks weirdly happy). Btw headcanon that Jace didn't realize something was up at first and was only tipped off when Izzy asked earlier if Alec was okay, and then he prodded at the parabatai connection and realized... there was nothing. Just a solid wall of nothing, because Alec's been sealing off his feelings completely.

1) Wow, Simon, your condolences are amazing. 2) Please, explain? Is she in a coma? Walking around as if she'd had a lobotomy?? But whatever, just skim over this, she's a minor character anyway and nobody cares about her *shrug*

This is the LAZIEST plot convenience I ever had to see with my own two eyes. I really can't work up the energy to rage about this. Just, wtf. Then again, not calling ahead with vital information seems to be Luke's Thing, just remember the 3x15 disaster. At this point it might as well be considered a character trait of him and no longer plot convenience. *sigh* Also, Shadowhunters are major creeps, am I supposed to believe they don't have a few liters of all of their soldiers' blood stored away somewhere, for reasons?

Uh-huh, Izzy. And if you care to remember, that was about 20 episodes ago. And since vampires have a constant craving for blood they seem to have some kind of metabolic. If you want to tell me that Jace's blood is still IN Simon, then either a) he's been chipping away at the Jace-blood-stash he has hidden in his second gastric and if that runs out he'll no longer be a daylighter or b) Jace's blood went into Simon's cells and changed him on a molecular level..... in which case, to extract it they'd have to remove it, un-daylighter-ing Simon in the process. Or maybe just parts of him? Imagine if he was a daylighter except for his left arm or something. In any case, this is majorly ridiculous and I can't believe I have to suffer through this.

????????????? Who opened that portal? I mean, if he had to call on a warlock to get away, wouldn't it have been easiser for Izzy and Co. to stop him from running through that portal and make him donate some blood first? Instead of forcing this bullshit logic on me? Ugh. But I get it, this is necessary to justify a Sizzy scene. Whatever.

Hahahhahha.

Which means nothing, since Jace can activate his runes without his stele. Or did they forget that part again?? I mean, it's been half a season since he last did that.

“And if it wasn't for our connection I suspect you'd do it again.”

lolololol hilarious.

HAHHAHA WILL YOU STOP WITH THE HILARITY

Honestly, the way they all act I get the distinct feeling I'm watching an exasperated kindergartener and two particularly clingy toddlers vying for her attention XD

Uuuuhhhh yeah hit me with more Malec Flashbacks to make me feel shitty, why don't you.

Okay, consoled. Btw thanks for confirming another headcanon that between the two of them Magnus is the one easier swayed by puppy eyes.

HAHAHAHA of course my mind immediately interpreted that as a misguided pun about Magnus being a Prince of Edom hahahaa wtf Alec

Dammit, his eyes. You can really see how he's allowing himself to start dreaming about it.

Also, can't believe they had a kiddie talk with at least some seriousness, what, two months into their relationship?? Haha. And internally Madzie was like “Uh boring grown up talk, at least I got my sprinkles.”

See, this is what I have problems with. On the one hand, even with all his emotional turmoil going on, Magnus is still enough in his right mind not to fall for Asmodeus's sweet talking, but on the other hand he revisits all of those memories and doesn't realize Alec breaking up with him can't have been real? This doesn't really add up. Either he is out of his mind with emotions that he can't see this very very strange happening for being something fishy (then he shouldn’t have been able to so easily resist Asmodeus), or he's still level-headed enough not to be driven by emotions entirely (then he should have realized the breakup was fake).

toddler fight intensifies

I'M WHEEZING HAHAHAHAHAHAH R U FOR REAL. Also remember my statement from last week? Where I said “I mean, in a way it's nice to know that Demonic Clary isn't smarter than Regular Clary.” Turns out she's so much worse than Regular Clary XD

Lol Raphael is that still you talking or the Plot Point? Because ngl, when I saw that sneak peek promo thingy where Jordan eyes the dramatically last vial of serum in the Institute I immediately thought they want to cook up a conflict there, where he steals the last vial needed to help save Clary and bla bla bla. I really hope they don't go down that road because I feel he should be better than this by now. *sigh* In any case, while I enjoyed the first part of this plot line with Raphael coming here to make reparations, this feels really forced and convenient.

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SIMON FOR ASKING THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS WTF I NEED ANSWERS

Wow can't believe they pulled this obvious and clearly unfitting parallel to Sizzy. I mean, Simon lost his glasses back in S1 and even before that Izzy noticed he was hot in like ep 2. She's been appreciating him as a friend since at least 2B if not sooner. So please don't pretend that she just didn't notice what a great guy he is, because she did. She knows he's someone you can count on, who's there when you need him, with advice or a joke or just to listen to you. She knows all this, and has for seasons. But, surprise surprise, you don't fall in love with everyone who's a great guy and a good friend. That is a thing. Friendships are a thing. Anyway, at least I can wholeheartedly agree that in any possible scenario Izzy is the hot girl XD

HAHAHA JACE THAT'S PAYBACK FOR ALL THOSE TIMES YOU INTERRUPTED MALEC HAHA KARMA IS A BITCH RIGHT

.......or just use glamors to look like Downworlders. Just saying.

Jonathan using the cuts to get a secretive chest grab in on Jace, but I know all those sleazy tricks and you can't slip that feel-up past me #busted

*weeping tears* yeah, and he'll never get the real deal. what a tragedy.

“...the Downworlder club. I think the runes front and center on my neck make a compelling argument, don't you agree?” Also the foreboding background music totally spoiled this 'twist.' (I'm using ''s because it was totally obvious this wouldn't work.)

Look I just love Alec, okay. I LOVE ALEC.

*waves hand* elite guard *waves hand some more* blue mark on his neck *smacks self in the face with waving hand* look i'm pretty sure Meliorn doesn't have a mark like this and he's like, the only Seelie that gets regular screen and talking time with the queen. But I'm way too behind schedule to start looking into it, I might edit something in here later (or never ahahaha).

OH DEAR THE MOMENT OF TRUTH

YES YES YES PLEASE

DUUUUDE WHY ARE YOU GIVING HIM IDEAS WHAT THE HELL

Also, remembering that short sequence of Magnus shooting red magic at his temples from the promo doesn't bode too well for the rest of the episode. Dammit.

You had one job, Lindsay. One. Job. (Yes, please imagine the Loki Gif here. I just love him a lot, okay. Loki <3<3<3)

(^pls imagine her little disenchanted headshake because any screen caps I tried to take made her look drugged out of her mind lol.)

Yep, this is it. This is it.

Sooooo.... how exactly did they persuade the bouncer? Just curious.

HAHAHAAHAH duuuuuude hahahhaa.

........when exactly did Jonathan spy all that? I mean, I've been having questions about the pacing since that ep with the Baby Jonathan Flashbacks, because that manibus whatever demon? Referring to 2x05. So Jonathan only got to earth after that? Howwww? Not thanks to Valentine, right, since he didn't even know Jonathan existed until 2x15 where Jonathan intercepted him from his portal to Idris? And didn't they say Sebastian Verlac disappeared half a year ago?? How does that all match up?

In any case, I feel like the seelie queen suddenly having a warlock boy toy who she can't order into her realm and who she has monthly scheduled appointments with that the whole shadow world knows about is a) totally absurd b) pretty ooc for her and c) reeking of plot convenience. They just couldn't find a better excuse for her to be at a certain place at a certain time. They should have made her attend a fashion show, or hell, a gardening contest. Would have been more credible than whatever this is.

“I grab the queen. Clary portals the three of us away.” “The four of us, including the queen.”

HAHAHHAHAHHA I CAN'T XD XD XD #slightly consoled

WHEN THE HELL DID JONATHAN READ / WATCH THE SHINING ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WTF!!!!!

1) This doesn't work in real life. Do you have any idea how much time it takes to catch a snow flake or a raindrop this way? I know because I've tried, and the anwer is ages. 2) Seems a very uneconomical way to distrubute drugs. Whoever invented that business model must be in deep depts by now. 3) What kind of shitty plan was that on Jonathan's part? Get Jace on drugs, he'll surely expose himself to be a traitor? I hate the fact that it works. I hate that everyone's shitty plans always work (re: Sizzy's dilettantish prison infiltration) because that's why they all keep making shitty plans. Positive reinforcement and all that. The only one who always gets punched in the face for making okay-to-good plans is Alec, and that's why he's the overthinker. So unfair.

“Well this is awkward because I just stole it for you.”

So frakkin predictable. Also, how did he steal it from the table when Izzy and Simon where guarding it?? It clearly was still there when Maia left and like

Did Jordan just grab it and run? So many questions.

Don't get me wrong, that whole forging the sword sequence was super badass, but like, if you're wielding scorching hot metal it seems a little impractical to just wear security goggles and a leather apron. There were freaking sparks flying and Izzy ducked. What the hell. What about, idk, unconventional but, a protective suit?? And Simon isn't any better. “Oh, I could die from this sword? Just lemme hide behind this doorway real quick.” *sigh* One of these days a character should die because of dumbass behavior, maybe that'd teach them all a lesson.

Also, this is totally logic. They had a splinter from the original sword that they then made tons of serum from, which they saved 3 vials of..... and somehow this was still enough to forge a whole new frikking sword that's apparently just as powerful as the original one. I don't even know where to start with this bullshit.

.................dude, if you wanted to persuade her you should have pointed out the ring to her. But maybe this isn't about logic at all, this is about wanting to know if he is Clary's first choice without logic or reason, and that would make sense for his character, even if it's not the most sensible or productive course of action.

Me, during the fight scene: “Wow, I believe all that Seelie guard slaughtering is not going to end up in a Downworlder vs Shadowhunter war again..... ha..... hahahaha.”

Arguing with a possessed person. Again. Honestly this is the, uhhh, fifth time this happens on this show? And people just seem to never learn. SIGH

Yeah, by not following the plan and acting stupid, so my sympathy is pretty limited aka non-existent. Btw his slide across the Institute floor was hilarious. And also, pretty nice of Clary not to just kill him. This is the second time she's spared him. Interesting.

ISTG IF THIS SCENE ENDS WITH A CLIFFHANGER IF HE GOES THROUGH WITH IT OR NOT IMMA FLIP MY SHIT

*manic laughter* I love that this makes so much sense. Asmodeus needs Magnus's heartbreak so he'll be susceptible to Asmodeus's influence. So his motives are shitty. On the other hand it's not as if what Asmodeus says to Magnus isn't the truth. Fighting through this will make Magnus stronger, no doubt. Knowing he can be this low and still get back on his feet without running away and succumbing to the pain. And I'm glad, for obvious reasons, that Magnus didn't go through with the memory removal because ain't nobody got time for those issues. Mending the breakup in a satisfying was will be hard enough as is. Back to the scene at hand, I gotta say I love this about Asmodeus: He doesn't lie outright, he mostly lies by omission, and he speaks enough truth to really screw with everyone's perception. It's awesome. He is such a great antagonist and his dynamic with Magnus is highly fascinating.

Conclusion: Not enough Malec (seriously, their only scenes together are flashbacks? the frakkin audacity) but tbh I'm still too high on endorphines since the memory removal didn't happen that I'm mostly okay with it. And the Jonathan-Jace comedy was nice.

[drivelings]

69.

It was no secret that Hanzo’s first appearance at Overwatch left many people on edge. What he had done to his brother was a well-known topic among those who were around when Genji was first admitted into the organization.

At Genji’s insistence (sometimes in private, and sometimes more forcibly in public), everyone attempted to be friendly with Hanzo, who slowly proved himself a worthy and valued member.

However, he never quite obtained that with you.

“The fuck are you doing here?” were your first words to him. Genji, in turn, intervened how he could, but that did not stop you both from disliking each other at first sight. You, knowing his past, immediately lashed out at him, and he, being attacked, put up his walls and lashed right back, ready to turn around and go back to Hanamura. 

Genji attempted to straighten you both out. But that didn’t stop you from sneering at him whenever you saw him. A stubbornness that emanated from both sides--prides building walls too high to even extend the first olive branch.

There was something raw about Hanzo. Being near him felt like a direct touch to a nerve ending or a broken bone—naked, raw, jaw-clenchingly painful. His self-depreciating words always struck a chord inside that made you want to throttle him. You’ve seen him and what he could do—his prowess and analytical skills were well proven when he first arrived.

But that didn’t mean it excused his piss-poor behavior toward himself, chasing after the ghost of what he believed to be redemption. (It was a delusion.)

You kept as much distance between you both as possible.

 “You should get along better with Hanzo.” Hana did not occupy herself with any games when she told you this. “You might actually find that you guys work well together.” 

You instinctively curled your lip at the name. “Hana, don’t be unreasonable. The day I work well with him is the day Hell freezes over.” 

She gave you a look like you’re the unreasonable one.

Granted, you were.

Back in the days of Overwatch, it didn’t matter who you liked or disliked, if you were put on a mission with them, you were all comrade in arms—teamwork was paramount to victory. To survival. But a specially put request from a supervisor could easily keep uncooperative parties separated. It wasn’t so uncommon—it just gave those who planned the missions a bit more of a headache.

But this wasn’t the old Overwatch.

“

  You could hardly contain your revulsion at the suggestion. 

 It was polite. 

Ana Amari was one of the later members rejoin Overwatch. You were on a solo mission at the time--it took nearly two months before you were able to return. By that time, Ana was well-acquainted with everyone. Hanzo, especially, who she took in as a sort of surrogate son. (Soldier: 76 believed that she enjoyed flustering him.) 

 Greyed and weathered, she still had that air of authority around her. Her piercing gaze, though only coming from one eye, was not weakened in any way. The surprise on her face melted into one of familiarity, and you choked on her name.

You nearly shrieked, the warmth of tears springing to your eyes.

“Oh, Ana!”

You hugged her tight, nearly choking her. She chuckled in your ear, wrapping her arms around you much more gingerly. Into her hair, you whispered her name over and over and thanking a deity that may or may not be listening. 

 You glared. “Oh. It’s you.” The words ‘dirty brother killer’ nearly escaped your mouth. 

He raised his chin in challenge, the thick column of his throat flexed, daring you to sink your sharp comments through his skin.

  Ana gasped, covering her mouth with a hand. 

She waved off everyone’s concerned looks, but she could see her daughter from the corner of her eye, wary and suspicious.

Fareeha was still weak in the eyes, took more after her father than she did her mother in many ways not easily visible to most people. Ana sometimes lamented it, but secretly was glad that Fareeha did not inherit the gift to see the strings that proved fate was a fickle thing and often cruel beyond reason.

She waved off both yours and Hanzo’s concerns. 

With the two of you as you are now, neither of you would be interested in hearing the truth. 

The mission consisted of yourself, Soldier: 76, Pharah, Zenyatta, and Hanzo. It was intended to be a quick scouting mission, search for any usable pieces of data. 

Ana pressed one of her grenades in your hand. “For protection,” she said, tapping her tattoo meaningfully. You turned it over in your hands, and smiled.

“Thanks.”

“We’re overpowered. Retreat. Now!” 

You nearly fell down a ditch; the announcement caught you off guard. You glanced back. You weren’t very far from the ship itself. It was still within your sights and well out of the way from the point.

As much as you worried for your teammates, they were elite soldiers. They would find their way with or without you. But if they didn’t have a ship, you were all screwed seven ways to Sunday anyway. 

“Zenyatta--” 

“I am with you.” 

Nodding at each other, you both raced back until you were at the ramp of the ship. Your guns were at the ready in case any wayward enemies decided to stroll by. Zenyatta floated beside you, the orbs gathered and ready for friend or foe. 

Friend, hopefully.

"I've secured our ship, get yourselves back here," you reported over the comm. The distance revealed no immediate enemies, but the minutes crawled by like a dying man with no legs. 

The first to arrive was Fareeha. You couldn’t help but mouth an ‘Oh shit’ when you saw her coming in on foot, the wings of her Raptora suit sparking and missing critical components. 

“Anti-air weapons?” 

It had only been less than a day. How the hell did you all suffer such casualties? Were they expecting you guys? That didn’t explain why they were prepared with such heavy-duty weaponry. Maybe they were prepared for their own civil war and you guys just happened to walk in at the wrong time. Great, maybe this’ll trigger the next Omnic Crisis. 

You fired three rounds, catching the omnic who chased him in the face plate. It dropped to the ground with a fizzle. Soldier: 76, once he got into the safety of your range, dropped to one knee, gasping harshly. You help his shoulder with a hand, still eyeing the horizon for more pursuers.  

“Where’s Hanzo?”

Your heart stuttered, a splash of dread quickly draining the warmth from you.

"He wasn't with you?" 

You and Soldier stared at each other for a stretch of time, the realization that one of your teammates was still out there swung over your heads like a death sentence. Simultaneously, you both cursed beneath your breath. So much for the buddy system.

You’re the only mobile one. As much as you disliked the man, he was your teammate. Fareeha was out cold, and Soldier: 76 looked like he's seen better days, barely able to get up off his knees. Zenyatta was tending to them, and 

“Hold on. I’ll get him.” 

Soldier: 76 didn’t even have time to stop you before you were hauling ass, working through exhaustion that was quickly settling on your muscles, threatening to seize and trip you up at a moment’s notice. You really shouldn’t have sat for so long.

The fading sound of his voice--”Get back here!”--compelled you forward.

There’s a tugging at your senses, a dull compass that gave you direction. Common sense told you to check the last place his commincator pinged from, but urgency told you to just shut up and follow your gut.

Hidden between two fallen walls propped up precariously against each other, you saw him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” you hissed to yourself. 

He was not conscious--not dead, you hoped--bleeding from the temple and several other spots on his body. The puddle of blood around him hinted that if he weren’t dead already, he’s likely pretty damn close.

Two shots took down one of them. It took another three to bring the second omnic down. The rubble served as good cover as you snuck your way to him, avoiding the detection of three passing by.

He was pale. His quiver was empty. The blood looked like it was coming from his temple, two injuries to his side, and his leg. You winced for him--they looked like they hurt. 

You slapped him lightly against the cheek, ignoring the tackiness of the blood that was still flowing from his head.

“Hanzo. Hanzo.” Your voice grew more insistent the longer he remained unconscious. “Wake up, you asshole!” 

“Wha...?”

He took in a sharp breath, returning to the pain that unconsciousness shielded him from.

“How bad is it?” you asked hurriedly.

He glanced around you, brows knitted harder and harder in confusion.

“Why..."--he took a shuddering breath, eyes unfocused--“did you come for me?”

You had half a mind to snap at him. You didn’t come specifically because you were worried for his well-being, you came because it was the right thing to do. However, it was little use getting angry at a man-child who could barely tell the sky from the ground. You’d have to save it for later.

If there was a later.

“Because we can’t leave without you.”

He took a shuddering breath, remorseful. “So I am at fault for endangering you all.”

You whirled around, angry piling in your chest like a stack of molten rocks ready to erupt. What did he just say?

A little more lucid.

“You should not have done so.”

Ungrateful bastard. You should snap his neck and report to everyone he died in battle. But you'd hate to upset Genji or Hana or Ana, all of whom were, for some inexplicable reason (barring Genji), very fond of him.

“Why? So you can try to prove you can punch your way through these guys?” You glanced behind you. “Don’t be stupid, even Soldier: 76 can’t do that.”

“I...am not being--UGH.” His protest was cut short, curling into himself in pain. Your chest ached in sympathy. You knew he was pathetic, but seeing him like this was even more annoying than you would’ve ever expected. 

 He must have hurt his ribs somehow.

You weren’t a medically trained professional by any stretch of the word, but even you knew that unless Hanzo got some sort of treatment, this attempt at valiance would soon turn into a suicide mission.

You dug through you bag--didn’t you have anything? Bandages? Liquid adhesive? Painkillers? Anything?

Your search turned up empty, and you nearly hurled your bag away before a small canister dropped out from a side-pocket. Your eyes widened.

Ana’s biotic grenade.

“Thank you, thank you, you beautiful old lady,” you mumbled hastily. “You better thank Ana for this, you lucky bastard.”

You pulled the pin and smashed it against the ground. Instantly, you were both crowded in warm yellow that stung at any open wounds you had--it itched something fierce, too. Hanzo went into a coughing fit, having breathed in the mist too forcefully. It’d be funny if you weren’t busy trying to figure a way out of here.

At least it would mean that some of his internal injures were being healed.

You gave him a minute or two to catch his bearings, a watchful eye for anyone that may have noticed the yellow cloud of mist and uncontrollable coughing fit. 

“How good are your legs?” 

Silence. 

The sensors on these guys can’t be that bad, could it? Not that you were complaining. 

“You should have left me. Not risk your--your life like this.”

“You self-righteous piece of shit.”

“But you hate me.” 

“I hate you because it’s always about you,” you barked. You turned your face at the ceiling, adopting the best (or worst) mock-imitation of Hanzo you could muster. “Oh, I’m so tragic, I don’t deserve any kindness, get away from me, I’m not worthy--shut the fuck up.

“I could deal with the fact you tried to kill Genji--he’s the one who has to forgive you, not us. But damn it, do you have to also play the tragic victim, too? At least stop trying to be so damn self-sacrificing and depressing. Killing yourself isn’t a path to redemption, making it up to everyone else is. So don’t you go all kamikaze on us because Genji and a ton of people are going to be crazy upset if you just up and died!”

He said nothing in his defense. He must know it’s true.

He smashed his Storm Bow against the omnic at your back. 

That must have been the last of his strength. He fell to the ground like a star, straight into a small crater that held him so preciously. 

You gaped. He saved you. 

The gunshots forced you back to reality. 

He was heavy. 

He looked at you, still bleary eyed and very much out of it. 

“...thank you.” Like that, he was out like a light again. 

A twinge of something uncomfortable and foreign zipped through you like electricity, stemming from your hand straight through your stomach, chest, and heart.

A little less testy, you reply to an unconscious Hanzo, “You’re welcome, you bastard.”

You didn’t comment on the joy that Genji exhibited. 

"You’d better say something before you do something stupid, oppa.”

Hanzo had a smart remark on his tongue for the young woman, but the look she fixed him with forced him to hold his tongue. He looked into her eyes, saw nothing but a weariness that seemed more meaningful than the usual insomnia she held.

“You should go.” 

He does not miss the way she slowed down her words, firm, and weighty. She knew something he didn’t, and he couldn’t say that he enjoyed being left in the dark. But because he told himself he could trust this young woman with his life and would treat her no different than his equal, he obeyed. A brief glance over his shoulder forced him to meet eyes with her once again. She was staring with that same look that he cannot name. He pressed forward so he didn’t have to see it--he didn’t know what she wanted him to know, but trusted her enough to try to find out.

Hana sighed, slow and heavy, the weight of a secret crushing her chest. She looked down to her hand, the red string on the pinky it slack unlike Hanzo’s.

“These things take time.” Hana did not jump, but it was a close thing. Ana leaned over the couch, arms crossed across the back on it, looking at the doorway that Hanzo left from. “Even though it’s obvious.”

Hana laughed to herself. Of course Ana would be able to see it, too. Nothing ever seemed to get past the woman’s sharp gaze.

“I just hope they figure it out.”

“You’re soulmates, fools!” 

Behind the deafening silence, two simultaneous slaps rang out. Both Hana and Ana had a hand to their faces, shaking their heads. 

[foxcroft-rpg-blog]

Congratulations, Niki! I’m so glad to find a player that understands how intricate of a character Amelia is. I think that you really get all the different layers to her, and can’t wait to see where you take her.

Thanks again for applying! Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the masterlist as soon as you can. Welcome to Foxcroft!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Niki / Nix

Age: 20

Preferred pronouns: She/her/hers!

Time zone: GMT (I’m studying in the UK at the moment, but for the better part of the year I live in EST.)

Activity: In the past I haven’t been able to RP during the school year, BUT this semester my class and workload is incredibly light, which gives me the opportunity to be on as much as I like. Out of ten, I would probably put myself on a sliding scale from 7 to 9, depending on who’s around to role-play with and what I’ve got going on plotwise.

Anything else?: The only thing I’d like to say is that I felt very passionately connected to what this RP is attempting to do. You wrote in the rules that “Foxcroft is a place for you to freak out about your characters, and have other writers to freak out with you.” and it made my heart jump to see that. I’ve been looking for a tight knit group RP since the last two groups I was in (which lasted three years) fell apart. RPing, to me, is all about finding great writers you can geek out about plotlines and character development with. So, thank you, is I guess what I’m trying to say!

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Amelia Goddard Foxcroft

Date of birth: September 9th, 1990, 27 years old

How long have they been in Foxcroft: She was born and lived there until she was eighteen, then left for college out east and didn’t come back. Not until Adam’s death; at the beginning of October she packed a suitcase and came back home, and has been alone at Foxcroft Manor to this day.

Sexuality: Demiromantic bisexual (leaning more towards women than men), though she’s quite tight-lipped about her queer identity. Amelia uses sex as a method of releasing tension; she’s never seen it as something that brings two people closer together, perhaps because she’s never become close enough to someone to form a romantic attachment with them.

FC change: None needed! I adore Deborah Ann Woll for Amelia.

MORE

How do you interpret this character’s personality? How will you portray them? Include two weaknesses and two strengths.

When I read Amelia’s biography, I had an instinctual reaction. Which sounds weird, but when I get a really good sense of a character I can feel their way of movement, and that helps me write their mind. With Amelia I felt tension, control, and calculation – my shoulders felt tight, poise rigid, and a desire to smooth my hair and pull it back behind my ears almost like a religiously calming act. So, that being said, onto how I’d play Amelia: I believe she is so absolutely smart, but her intelligence, her practicality and her ambition can and have become the two greatest stressors within her life. She has a tendency to overdo everything; overthink, over-plan, overcompensate, over-worry, even overreact. This, in combination with how tightly wound she is, under normal circumstances make it hard for anyone to live a happy, stress free life.

Add in her worry about her brothers and Adam’s death, and you’ve got a maelstrom coming. I want to play Amelia on the cliffside of control; I want her to look down at the abyss of chaos and wonder what it’s like to jump into the deep. But I want the essence of her character to reject that notion, to almost crave being tense, being on edge, cautious, protected. I want her to be suspicious of everyone and lonely to point of paranoia – and then I want to find a way to reel her in and help her cope with the loss of her brother and her continuing lack of family structure.

How did this character react to the death of Hazel Abrams? Adam Foxcroft?

With Hazel, I feel as if she felt poor but not sad, unhappy but not awful. She’d only known her through the stories her brother told her on the phone, and those were far and few in between. But a death is a death, and Amelia would feel bad for anyone who drowned in the swamps. Adam…is a whole other story. He was the last brother she had a tether to, wobbly as it was. She feels a bit insane about the whole thing because it’s as if she almost knew him staying in Foxcroft would get him hurt. And that’s what she’d told him over and over on the telephone, but he wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen, and then he was murdered. And now Amelia’s alone, surrounded by the stale ghosts of her adolescence and the haunting feeling that she could have done more to save him. Adam – his death, his past, his case – have become the axis upon which she swings. What life she had back east feels so far away now. She’s sinking into the mud of Adam’s mystery, and it’s a slow, unbearable asphyxiation.

How do they see the town and its people? Think about the different groups of people and prejudices the town holds about them.

Amelia the teenager couldn’t wait to be rid of Foxcroft, of its sleepy supernaturalism and the enveloping feeling of always being watched. She worked hard to dig herself out of her family’s legacy. For a while, it worked, and she was free. But like a curse she’s been drawn back into it, and this sleepy town has shed its skin and bared its teeth. Teeth she’s always known have been there, but only now does she see the creatures in the open. Amelia stays only to find her brother’s killer. There is no one here she would stay for. As for the social hierarchy of her position in the founding families – she wishes she could slip by unnoticed but because she isn’t, she wears her name like a tattoo across her chest. The people of this town can think and say whatever they like about her; only Amelia knows her truth, and that’s satisfying enough. For now.

Please include 1-2 possible plots your see for this character.

I’d really like to have Amelia start to confront supernatural of this town, to begin to take the threat seriously and even find a way to protect herself from it. I want her to start commotion without putting her in harm’s way – maybe she’d start delving in to the history of the town, going to Shae’s shop and testing out her wares, starting her own investigation into the people of this town and who they really are. Whatever happened to Adam, she knows isn’t going to go away. She’s doing this for herself more than for the people of the town, because when she leaves she wants to be done with Foxcroft. She doesn’t want its stain following her, nor does she want the threat of an attack haunting the rest of her already suffered life.

For my second plot: I’m very interested in seeing what happens when Amelia loses control – literally and figuratively. I’d love to see one of the Hungry put their paws on her and figure out her reaction to it, or for someone to take a dig into her emotionally and have her explode in a rage of emotion unlike anyone’s ever seen from her. Amelia’s teetering on a dangerous edge, and I think she needs to release what’s been chalked up inside her for the past twenty-seven years before she can have any clarity or piece of mind.

In relation to specific characters:

NEIL MONROE: I really want to see what happens when the two of them meet, and how they either get over (or perhaps never get over) what happened to Adam. Amelia’s going to be warring with her prejudices against him and the apparent fact of his guilt, but I do think it would be a compelling plot to have the two of them come to an understanding and gather together to find out who killed Adam. I think, in her heart of hearts, she wants to get to know Neil because he was closer to Adam than she ever was, and now will ever be. He and Willa are the only connections she has to her dead brother; they hold remnants of his memory she’ll never hold, moments with him she’ll never be able to truly understand. And that puts a knot in her spine and a lump in her throat.

MARCUS MURPHY: I’m super invested in having some sort of plot perhaps where Amelia becomes a little too dependent on Marcus – not necessarily in a romantic sense, but more in a ‘you’re the only person I trust and therefore the only person I can truly be somewhat myself with’ kind of way. And then I want it to shatter when (and if) she understands Marcus isn’t the good, clean cop she thought and convinced herself he was. That he’s just like every other person in this town, corroded and rotted by Foxcroft’s swampy mess. I’d like to see how Amelia reacts to her only foundation of trust being shattered, if she picks up the pieces and finds someone else to lay herself upon or if she retreats further into herself, further and further until she implodes and damage is done.

LOGAN LOCKWOOD: Ugh, I just want them to become friends! I think it would be nice for Amelia to have a friend in her lonely, lonely world. She was definitely wrong in dating Logan in high school – and a tryst between them is not going to happen again – but I think she had the right instincts in choosing him as a friend and partner. I don’t think she wants him to listen to her as she bemoans her existence, as his bartending job often does, but I do think she needs someone to lift the anvil off her shoulders and shove a beer in her hands and tell her to lighten up, Francis. Otherwise Amelia would go absolutely insane in mere days, I think, rotating around in her mind in the loneliness of that godforsaken house.

I’m also super interested in having someone curious enough to peel back the layers and layers (and layers, man this girl is an onion) to get to the core of Amelia’s being and see if there really…is a core? As in, who is Amelia when she isn’t controlling herself? Who is she when she’s not planning, worrying, holding herself back, trying to get out, get away, do something, go somewhere. Is that all she is, motives and motivation? To be honest, I’m not so sure yet. I don’t think Amelia is sure of it herself, which is why she keeps building walls, constructing mazes around the essence of her being because who she is, unfettered and vulnerable, needs to remain a mystery. Because when that mystery is uncovered it might be revealed to be…absolutely nothing. Or something so frightening that it shouldn’t have been let out in the first place. Like Pandora’s box.

WRITING SAMPLE

Option #1:

Link one: A couple of friends of mine from a Marauders verse RP a long, long time ago still plot and occasionally write together as the characters we played together. We decided to mix things up a bit and try out an array of different verses to put our characters in. This one we called ‘indie band au’ – so Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, and Lily are all in a band together. It’s one of my favorite short pieces of writing I’ve done, and oddly enough I wrote it on my iPhone on a plane?  

Link two: This is a drabble I did of a sort of college roommate situation, still going with the Marlene McKinnon theme. I always find myself writing in the head of my characters, and usually my writing style – the format, the sentence length, the language – changes depending on whose head I’m occupying.

EXTRA

How would you feel about this character dying?: I would find that fascinating, and am totally up for it! I always think character deaths in role-plays, when done to serve the purpose of moving the plot forward, are incredibly smart.

Why did you choose this character?: I chose her because I had a deep gut reaction to her biography, and because I’ve always wanted to play someone so tightly wound, someone with so much awareness that it almost paralyzes her from living an easy life. I’m so intrigued by her relationship with her brothers (I’d love for one of them to traipse back into town and disrupt everything, though I also love the aspect of her loneliness and her lack of communication with her family) and by the fact that she’s not giving up on what happened to her brother. I love that she’s so gray, that she’s a family person but not someone who says ‘I love you’ very often, that she is slowly slipping into lack of control.

Extras: Here’s a link to a pinterest board I made of her – it’s less of an assembled ‘aesthetic’ and more a retrospective of her emotional state, her relationships with her brothers, her view on Foxcroft Manor, and how she escaped Foxcroft after high school.

How did you find us?: I’ve been following Janelle (and silently admiring everything – especially your ideas on queer badass Marlene McKinnon – oh boy do I have feelings about that woman) on my personal blog for a while, actually! I remember seeing ads for Port Montrose and wanting to apply but didn’t have time to send in an app.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Walking Dead: Say Yes (7x12)

Rick and Michonne! Yay! I'm really happy that we got an episode to focus on their relationship. However, I'm sad to say that I can't give this episode an unequivocal positive rating. It definitely still had some problems.

Cons:

Most of the episode focuses on Rick and Michonne going out looking for guns, which I liked a lot. They end up succeeding in finding those guns, and then bring them back to Jadis. It's at this point that I start rolling my eyes again, because Jadis is such a strange, cartoonish figure. She talks weird, and she makes demands of Rick that don't seem justified, seeing as Rick has all the guns. It totally took me out of the moment. The upshot of it all is that our heroes now have guns, and might stand a chance against Negan.

Rosita has been an enigma for me all season. She's so angry and bitter and frustrated, and I get all of that... but I feel as if I'm being told that she feels that way, instead of getting to see the ins and outs of her emotional journey. This episode had a supremely awkward conversation between Gabriel and Rosita, where she blamed him for putting doubts into her head about killing Negan. She says that this is why Olivia and Spencer are dead, and why Eugene was taken. But... this doesn't make any sense. Rosita did take the shot at Negan. Sure, she hit Lucille instead, but she did indeed try to kill him. So how did Gabriel screw things up, exactly? We also have to listen to Gabriel give a lame little sermon about taking chances and living life. Ugh. Go away, Gabriel.

Pros:

Despite the above complaint about Rosita, I do feel cautiously optimistic about this Rosita and Sasha team-up. Rosita, now armed with a sniper rifle, comes to Sasha and asks for her help. Sasha says yes, but only if she gets to take the shot. I guess their plan is to kill Negan by sneaking into his compound. Now, I do want to point out that they could just wait for Negan to come to Alexandria, but that's a nitpick. Both of these women have shown their impatience. They are tired of waiting for Rick to make a move. They want vengeance now. It could be kind of cool to see them team up and try to cut off the head of the snake.

Tara spends the episode in quiet indecision. She babysits Judith, and confides to the toddler that she knows where to get guns: Ocean Side, the all-female compound she came across on her mission. She doesn't want to tell Rick about them, because she knows it will end in bloodshed. The women of Ocean Side have decided to hide out, not fight. If Tara tells Rick, Rick will force them to comply. In the end, Tara goes to Rick, and says she has something to tell him. This is a compelling little emotional arc for Tara. I liked the idea of her using Judith as a sounding board. She asks herself why her life, and the lives of her community, should be more important than the lives of the women at Ocean Side. In the end, she seems to decide to prioritize her own well-being, but it's interesting to see how much it costs her.

Rick and Michonne spend the episode out scouting for guns, taking time to enjoy each other away from the rest of the group. They find a carnival where some violent event must have taken place in the early days of the apocalypse - these Walkers are still armed with guns. To boot, they manage to fall through the ceiling of a storage basement, and they find boxes and boxes full of preserved food. Everything is going great until Rick nearly dies by falling off of a Ferris-wheel into a hoard of Walkers. He manages to get away, and the two of them head back. Michonne is suffering a bit of an emotional crisis. For the few seconds she believed Rick to be dead, she realized how terrified she was to do this without him. Rick gives a speech about how she can handle losing him, just like he can handle losing her. They need to keep going. That's the only way to live.

This is the first time this show has given Michonne and Rick a chance to just breathe as a couple, and I think it was a smart decision. I like these two together. I like that when they're with one another, these two ordinarily grim people become a bit more lighthearted. They laugh and smile and they make a really good team. All of the scenes of them working together to kill Walkers and accomplish their goals were really fun. The Walkers aren't a threat on this show the way they once were, and this episode was one of the first times in a while I've felt the thrill of danger coming from Walkers. It didn't come from the characters' fear, but rather from their abundance of confidence. They treated the whole thing like a game, which made it all the more shocking when Rick nearly died.

Rick's fake-out death was actually pretty great, despite the fact that the audience probably wasn't fooled very much. I don't think that moment was meant to fool us, though. It was meant to fool Michonne, so that she could realize just how tenuous her happiness really is. It leads in to Rick's speech about the future. I quite liked it, because it lays out a philosophy that gives Rick some solid motivation as a character. He might die. He might lose Michonne, or other people he loves. But if they just stop trying, if they bow their heads and let Negan take over, then they're as good as dead anyway. Of course, Rick is still working through his grief and guilt over the deaths of his friends. Especially Glenn. Glenn has been there since the beginning, and losing him was a real blow to Rick.

I think that's all I have to say about this one. I really, really enjoyed all of the stuff with Rick and Michonne. I liked Tara's little moments, and I even enjoyed the ending bit with Rosita and Sasha. It's too bad Jadis had to show up and mar the episode with her campy nonsense.

8/10

[bitchwitchblaine-blog]

meme post #2

“You can’t control me like you can your little puppets, can you?”

The human was trying to be tough; it was clear in his tone and expression that he thought he had the control here, not the demon. It was laughable, seeing Gage believe that he was able to fight Blaine and win. Or rather, that he was able to force his soul back into him and make him weak again, get him to feel again. The demon was strong, even stronger than most considering he still had his magic, so this human wouldn’t and couldn’t do anything to him. So the demon couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the question.

Even more amusing was that he seemed to think Blaine would even be able to cope with his soul back. He’d been quite the pathetic human, ruled by his emotions and forever fearing the suffering of others. Amusing that Gage seemed to think that the memories wouldn’t destroy Blaine. On top of that, his magic had turned dark and would now forever be tainted with it. He could plunge his soul back into him, but there was no correcting that. The darkness would haunt him for the rest of his human life, would almost consume him and the human version of himself – ugh – would struggle not to continue to use dark magic, if it were to ever come to that – which it wouldn’t.

But the most entertaining part? Gage had seemed to forget how much Blaine knew about him, how much knowledge he had that he could use to his advantage. Human and demon, Blaine knew him better than anybody, and he could easily find ways of manipulating the boy if he wanted, especially now that he could feel pain and guilt and hurt and everything.

A twisted grin curled at Blaine’s lips. This was going to be fun.

“Are you quite sure about that?” His tone was challenging, closing the distance between himself and the human, lifting a hand to caress his cheek as he let his facial features fall into something more sympathizing. Fake, of course. “Oh, honey… I guess you must be right. Now that you have those emotions of yours, why would you listen to a soulless thing like me? Hm?” He brushed his thumb across his skin, gently, almost lovingly. “You wouldn’t. You have no reason to. I have no control over you at all. Although…”

He let his grin fall back into place then, eyes growing dark as he let his hand fall from Gage’s face, crossing his arms over his chest. “You were soulless, too, not too long ago, weren’t you? Do you remember all those people you killed? How many of them you slaughtered and tortured and how much you enjoyed it? Don’t you miss that feeling? The thrill of the fear on their faces and the blood on your hands?” He tilted his head slightly as he gave a questioning hum.

Beaming – he could see that he was getting somewhere with his Gage, bringing up that guilt Blaine could so easily use against him – the demon spun on his heels and talked as he took a few steps away from him. “Don’t you miss not feeling? I don’t have to think about guilt or fear or any of that silly human stuff; I can just sit back and enjoy the show. I do so miss my emotionless Gagey, so forceful and compelling… and he possessed such an incredible need to kill.” He gave a dramatic, longing sigh.

A pause, and then he continued, grin reforming and head held high. “You didn’t have to think about any of the guilt, either. No pain. No fear. You never even had to be afraid of dying. You must be in so much pain right now, my sweet one. All of that previously discarded guilt building up and coming back to you.” It was admittedly quite difficult to read the human, though he held his tone, confident that one way or another, sooner or later, he would have that thing torn out of him and abolished. He faked a worried frown once more, arms falling to his sides. “You don’t have to go through this anymore. You never have to go through this again. You can be happy and free, and you can do whatever you want with your life.”

All of the ammo Blaine felt he could use against the demon, he was. Everything he could think of to stir his emotions, to use them against him, half to prove that he could, in fact, control Gage, thank you very much, the other half for taking further steps to fulfill his larger goal: to recover his version of Gage. “And your friends, they must be so upset with you. Every time they look at you they must see what you’ve done, the monster they think you were, the deaths you’ve caused and the suffering you’ve created. That must be so lonely, knowing the only people you have to surround yourself with not-so-secretly resent you.”

A hum, then, as he paced towards him once more. “Don’t you miss having a companion who would stand by you through it all? Don’t you miss me, your one true love? We could do anything together. Anything we wanted, we could take with no cost, and gosh was it fun.” He pressed himself close to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and keeping his expression as gentle and caring as his emotionless heart could muster. “I love you. You love me.”

“No more pain. No more suffering. Your one true love back… think about it.”

send me ♩ for my muse to catch yours singing in the shower

The usual excitement of arriving at Gage’s bubbled inside of Blaine, his grin wide and bright when he popped into the room. Just for a second, his brow furrowed, confused as Gage was nowhere to be seen. There was no time to panic or worry, though, his lover’s location becoming immediately apparent, making a small giggle leave the witch.

Gage must have lost track of time, thinking it was earlier than it was because his voice echoed from the bathroom loud and clear. Blaine approached, slow and silent, not wanting to make his appearance known as he knew the hunter would stop if he knew he was there. As the distance closed, it began to dawn upon him that Gage was quite the singer. An incredible one, at that. Actually, Blaine would have thought that Gage was as passionate about it as he if he hadn’t known better.

The witch had never actually heard him sing. Not quite like this, anyway. Sure, some whispered words while Blaine was falling asleep. On one occasion he’d sung a pretty good rendition of Say You Won’t Let Go to him, but it had still been nervous, unsure, nothing like this was now. This was loud and unashamed – granted, under the belief that no one could hear, but still, Blaine was proud and amazed at how good Gage sounded. Maybe it was a little unfair for him to keep listening while Gage sang his heart out, knowing he wouldn’t be if he’d known Blaine was there, but he couldn’t help himself.

When he did finally make his presence known with a please, giggly ‘hi Gage,’ his boyfriend jumped a mile, a yelp cutting off the tune. “Sorry, sorry!” Blaine continued, the giggling coming to a stop. Now he did feel bad. “Don’t be embarrassed. It was perfect. Incredible, you should sing more often.” And he wasn’t just saying that to try to make him feel better; he really thought that Gage was one of the best singers he’d heard. Like, ever. So maybe he was a little biased, but he was certain anyone else would feel the same if he was brave enough to show them.

With a grin, he tested the door to see if it was locked. As he’d suspected, it wasn’t locked – no need when you’re home alone anyway, right? So Blaine merely peeked his head around the door, still smiling broadly, as he continued. “Perhaps you could sing to me more often? We could even duet if it made you feel more comfortable, having someone singing with you. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything that makes you uncomfortable, but- wow, Gage.”

‘  don’t pretend to know my pain.  ’ 

The words left Blaine breathless, frozen for a moment. He didn’t know how to help Gage with this. How could he? The hunter was right; Blaine didn’t know his pain. There was pain of his own, plenty of it, an abundance of it, but it was the opposite side of things. He knew the pain of losing the man he loved to a creature who twisted him, turned him into something he wasn’t. He knew the pain of seeing his friends killed by said loved ones, of believing he and them would never be back. Of being taken, being told he would be changed and twisted, too.

But Blaine didn’t have the blood on his hands, the memories of taking and destroying people’s lives in seconds. He didn’t have so many people hating him over a thing that was inside of him, a thing he couldn’t control. He didn’t have to relive the moments his friends died at his own hands, watch them become monsters.

Blaine didn’t know Gage’s pain. And he admitted so, sucking in a long breath after whispering the words to him, agreeing with him. No, he didn’t know.

He had to do something, though. Watching his fiance suffering like this caused him pain, unable to stand the thought of him hurting so badly. So he closed the distance Gage had put between them, gently placing both his hands on his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss. On his tiptoes, he tenderly placed his forehead against his lover’s cheek, eyes closed, hand moving to his hair. Just for a second, he played with it, staying there.

“But I love you. I love you, and I’m with you, and that means we face this together.”

Feeling his lover’s arms come up to wrap around him, he lowered himself, letting Gage bury his face in his neck. Blaine’s own arms moved to wrap around the taller boy, holding onto him tightly, wishing that doing so could put back together the broken pieces, as though if he squeezed hard enough, the shards would meld back into one.

“I love you,” he repeated in a breath. “I love you. I don’t know your pain, but I won’t watch you suffer. I won’t. I’m here. I won’t let you go.”

[ TEXT ] Don’t tell me I can do whatever makes me happy while also saying I have to put on pants.

[TEXT] Gage, honey, you can’t live your entire life without wearing pants.

[TEXT] First of all, I am not losing the love of my life to prison because he was too stubborn to put on pants. No way. What would I tell our children? And the neighbors?

[TEXT] Plus I would miss you. And you would get cold. And if by chance you’re not arrested, you would get everyone’s attention, and I would get jealous.

[TEXT] Put on your pants.

[ TEXT ] sorry for running off in the middle of that heart to heart. free food.

[TEXT] …Why am I not surprised.

[TEXT] Wait. You ran off for free food without telling me? I want free food!

[delay]

[TEXT] But seriously, honey… we need to talk about this sooner or later. You can’t keep putting it off. Please.

[ TEXT ] If you fuck up my birthday by dying I will kick your fucking corpse.

[TEXT] I’m not going to die.

[TEXT] I’m fine. I’m going to be fine.

[delay]

[TEXT] Just don’t come here, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt. You deserve the day off. And I

[TEXT] I’m going to be fine.

[TEXT] I love you.

[ TEXT ] I have booze and I wanna give you a bj. How can you be mad at me?

[TEXT] Easily.

[TEXT] Fine. I’m coming. But you owe me, Gage Kelly Gilbert.

[TEXT] Love me?

❝ I’ll try to make it painless. ❞

Whenever Gage said something similar to that, it would hit Blaine all over again just how inhuman he had become. It wasn’t just that he was evil, enjoyed killing and causing chaos. It wasn’t just that he liked it, it was that he didn’t seem to understand anything but. There were no emotions inside of him, no real ones, nothing other than rage and maybe enjoyment when getting his own way. The demon couldn’t fathom the reasons for Blaine not wanting to lose his soul, didn’t think he had a reason to worry about how he would kill because he wouldn’t care once he was a demon. No, Gage seemed to think the main reason was the pain of it. Like if it didn’t hurt, the witch would happily go through with it.

Like all of the lives that would be lost to Blaine didn’t matter to him at all.

And that was because they didn’t matter to the demon. They didn’t in the slightest and never would while he was like this. Death and destruction was all he knew and all he would ever know.

Allowing his eyes to slip towards Gage, Blaine felt his heart break all over again. Or rather, the aching of the wounds already there – he never could heal while his love was like this. “It’s not that,” he whispered, sucking in a shuddering breath. But how could he explain to Gage? He wouldn’t understand anyway, he never had understood even the slightest. The demon would continue to try to manipulate him into agreeing, to make him think it was the best option for Blaine. It wasn’t. But he needed Gage to stop, and he needed to make him stop in a way that wouldn’t get him maimed to death.

“I don’t care about the pain, Gage,” he whispered, tearing his gaze away again, feeling sick just looking at him. He appeared almost hopeful, like he believed that he would truly have Blaine by his side one day, and the obsession – not love, he couldn’t feel love – in his gaze served only to torment the witch further.

“I don’t care about the pain at all. It’s… I…” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish without angering him. Because if he told him the truth? If he told him and actually got through to Gage, made him finally believe that Blaine couldn’t stand the thought of one day becoming a killer? That could only trigger his wanting to do it anyway, to take his soul by force, rather than waiting for Blaine to change his mind. The witch didn’t want Gage to think there was a chance that he’d decide to have his soul removed, but the moment he knew it was true would be the moment Blaine’s fate was sealed. “I just… don’t want to become a demon. I’m happy being the way that I am. I… I don’t want blood on my hands.”

And he left it at that. Because that was all he could do.

💐  your muse giving mine flowers

Every other day, the excitement and relief of knowing Blaine would be with Gage that night would be what kept Blaine going through the day. It was a wonder the remaining students at McKinley hadn’t figured that something was going on, given the shift in Blaine’s mood. Though, he supposed, they had their own things to keep busy with, that they had more than enough of their own plates. Besides, the people who weren’t close to Blaine had been keeping their distance, him being the boyfriend of the guy who killed everyone, and all.

Regardless, that very boyfriend was waiting for him in his apartment, and there wasn’t a lot that could shadow Blaine’s anticipation for that. Each night they spent together was an escape from the terror of the rest of their lives – at least until one of them woke with a nightmare, or they thought too much about the outside of their safe bubble. Even when they did, even when things were dark and scary and seemed hopeless, they had each other, and that was enough to get them through it all.

What Blaine hadn’t been expecting on this particular night was for the apartment to be empty when he arrived, flitting in out of thin air. “Gage?” he called, brow furrowed as he began to search for his love. But no, he definitely wasn’t home. Odd. Really odd. He was always here when Blaine arrived, always there to hold him only seconds after seeing him, and yet… he wasn’t.

As the fear began to rise in his throat, the fear that the worse had happened – Gage had been taken again, or worse, was dead – he spotted the bouquet of flowers sat on the table. Breath caught in his throat, he reached for them, lifted them, and immediately relaxed as he saw the note on them.

They were a gift for Blaine, of course, a way of making up for Gage not being there yet, who was stuck at work. A breathy laugh left him as a wave of relief washed over him, a tear – stupid tear – building in his eyes. Of course, his mind would immediately jump to the worst conclusion, and Gage would be the hopeless romantic he was and leave him flowers instead of a text or a note. God, he loved that man.

😈 - My muse crawling on your muse and pressing their hips against your muse’s crotch

Possessiveness. Usually, that was Gage’s thing. The hunter always wanted to ensure that people knew Blaine was his and his only, and the witch had no problem with that at all. It was cute sometimes, attractive other times, and the rest of the time it was way hotter than Blaine ever thought he would find the quality. Either way, it wasn’t something he would ever try to change in his lover.

This time, though, it was him being possessive. Maybe also a little jealous. Seeing his fiance interact with his co-worker who was so clearly interested in Gage -- who could blame him -- switched something inside of the witch, making him needy, and perhaps a little irrational. Gage was his. And he was Gage’s. And that guy wouldn’t be with Gage. Although there was nothing to prove to the hunter -- Blaine knew he adored him -- he hadn’t been able to help himself, the emotions building up inside him when they left, the witch not wanting to cause a scene.

And now they were on the couch, Blaine moving to straddle Gage’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. The hunter seemed surprised, but Blaine didn’t take his time to assess his expression, instead, moving one of his hands to cup the side of Gage’s face, the other to his hair. The little remaining distance vanished as the witch pulled him into a deep kiss, urgent, passionate, desperate. He was Gage’s, goddammit, not that guy. It didn’t matter that he’d been hitting on Gage and trying to flirt because Blaine had this and the way his fiance pulled him closer and held him tight reassured him of that.

“I love you,” he whispered against his lips, voice weak and breathy. “I love you, and I’m yours. All yours. Just yours.” Then he kissed him again, this time pressing his tongue into Gage’s mouth, the sound the hunter made stirring heat inside of him. With that, he slowly lowered his hips, pressing impossibly closer to his lover and whining for more contact. It wasn’t enough.

They both seemed to have the same idea, momentarily shifting to remove their shirts, starting with Blaine’s. It wasn’t fast enough. He was Gage’s, and he wanted to show the man just how much he loved and wanted him, and he wanted to do it now.

Finally both shirtless, the hunter began to press kisses to Blaine’s neck, and he took the opportunity to speak, to beg for Gage. A shudder ran up his spine as his fiance’s lips brushed over a particularly sensitive area. “I want you,” he murmured. “I want you in me. I... please. Please. Can we- can I ride you?” Hands returning to Gage’s hair, he continued, voice only becoming more desperate. “Please. I need it. I’m yours, and I need it, and I need you, please.”

[thedramafilesblog-blog]

Appearing before the Dramacourt: Man to Man Eps 15 and 16.

***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***

Issues:

Whether the revenge plan was reasonable.

Whether Mi Eun being on no one’s side is a legit explanation.

Whether the whole “Exposure-By-Live-TV” is a clever way to expose evil wrongdoers.

Whether Sul Woo and Do Ha’s wrap up made sense.

The Rule(s):

Possibly. Based on how close Sul Woo and Donghyun were, it makes sense that his accident would push Sul Woo over the edge.

Sort of. It was only really about her and the kid from the very start.

Ehhh….it’s been overused. I’m not a huge fan of this particular plot device.

Kind of?

Analysis:

RedRosette J: It’s over. Thank God. I for one am so relieved because I’ve been wanting this drama to end since like episode 3 when I realized that the plot was moving at a glacial pace and that the same things kept repeating over and over again. I don’t know why Sul Woo kept going back to playing the bodyguard role after deciding countless times that he wasn’t going to and announcing it to everyone and then suddenly going back and re-announcing that he’s going back to it and everyone reacts like this is brand new information. I’m so confused. Or maybe its because I don’t care at all and it was harder to pay attention and my brain zoned out. If so, my bad.

What is your deal bro?

Most of the plot lines got nicely wrapped up and the drama all seemed to sort itself out in the most basic of ways. In episode 15, they discover that Donghyun is not dead (I was legit shocked here), the NIS Director is the baddie, Seung Jae made copies of the tapes that the Director burned up (because duh, its evil villaining 101), Sul Woo went on a revenge spree, Mi Eun gets outed, Do Ha’s daddy issues get sorted and the final “mission” goes into play. Phew! I think that’s it. A lot of stuff getting wrapped up at the last minute because they wasted much of the previous episodes doing absolutely nothing.

Being shady like…

Trapped in your own thoughts like…

When you think you are top shit

Reminiscing like…

Getting hit by a massive truck = just a coma with every body part intact. 

This lady always plays such boss ajummas

Resolving issues with Dad like…

In episode 16, the big, final mission to expose everyone goes underway via live tv (-_-), everyone gets exposed, people get backstabbed, decisions are made, Donghyun gets better and gets a medal, the baddies go to jail, Do Ha continues to behave like a 12 year old in her “adult” relationship and Sul Woo goes off to fight some mission in Eastern Europe. Uhhhh….okay? Oh and Woon Gwang kept the figurines. Anyone else bet that he would? You could see it from a mile away! Ugh. So predictable. So much for an exciting spy drama. Ugh. I am so not impressed. I didn’t even get to feel the warm fuzzies with a cutesy ending. He went off and she was tracking him with the coin and then he disappeared and wtf?!?! Is this because of Park Hae Jin’s upcoming drama with rumours about it being a prequel or sequel or whatever to Man to Man? I really wish they wouldn’t. This drama was not great as is, there really doesn’t need to be a part 2 to add to its mediocrity.

When you realize the truth!

Making tough decisions like…

When you in evil cahoots…

When you skeptical about winning things at work…

When you get a new partner in crime

Issue 1: Whether the revenge plan was reasonable.

RedRosette J: Donghyun really was Sul Woo’s only real friend and confidante who knew the real him and who was probably the closest person to him so it makes sense that something bad happening to Donghyun would push Sul Woo over the edge and force him to resort to his “spy” methods to resolve the situation. While I appreciate that this incident was because of Sul Woo’s closeness to Donghyun, I can’t help but feel like this would have been the perfect time for the writers to have given us some insight into Sul Woo’s pre-NIS life. Sixteen episodes later and we still don’t know anything about him except that he is secretly a teenage boy who likes video games and acts out sometimes. It would have been nice to have gotten some family history or personal backstory just so that it put some context into his character, his actions and his motivations for embarking on a revenge mission (other than Donghyun of course. That might have been the time to introduce a triggering event). Whatever said and done, I think that had he shot the NIS Director, the plot would have gone in a much better, less predictable direction as it would have had Seung Jae scrambling to cover his ass.

When you find out your bestie is sick…

What an ass!

Getting revenge like…

Crashing a party like…

When your boss throws you under the bus for shady shit he did

Issue 2: Whether Mi Eun being on no one’s side is a legit explanation.

RedRosette J: At first, I didn’t really get why she was doing what she was doing because her actions seemed to be both for and against the good guys. It was only after Sul Woo’s explanation that she was really on no one’s side and that she was doing it to protect her child that it started to make sense to me. Again, this character was well acted and well written. They could have written a whole drama just about her tbh. I did appreciate that Mi Eun had a human side to her character as well and wasn’t some perfect,  emotionless spy woman. I think over time, she did come to have feelings for Seung Jae but her feelings for her son outweigh that. This was especially the case at the end where Seung Jae returns the divorce papers to her and she rips them up. She also doesn’t want her son to see his father in prison at such a young age and says that he can meet him when he’s older. Her story line with Woon Gwang was also wrapped up very well. All in all, she was by far my favourite character on this show.

How to plot and be cool. Step 1: Get fancy car

*Gasp*

#priorities

#truth

The real goal

Issue 3:  Whether the whole “Exposure-By-Live-TV” is a clever way to expose evil wrongdoers.

RedRosette J: Honestly, this is a tired TV trope that I feel a writer leans towards when they are totally stuck for ideas. Considering the potential that this drama had and the actual trajectory it took, it seemed like even the writer was desperate for it to end. What I did appreciate was the lead up to the live TV show, with the laxatives in the movie director’s coffee and stuff. That was really funny but trying to compel Seung Jae to spill the beans on live TV seemed like a cop out to me. But if I was to play devils advocate with myself, it could also be because they had no option because the highest levels of government officials were all on Songsan’s pay roll and they have no option but the people to turn to. That being said, I still feel like they should have blown some stuff up or had some super awesome spy stuff to bring Seung Jae down. Further, it wasn’t even like Seung Jae actually did any repenting. He just blamed everything on the Director and everyone else and then resolved his issues off screen. At least with the Director and Congressman Baek, they were awful to the very end. So, no I don’t think that “Exposure-By-Live-TV” is the best way to expose evil wrongdoers.

#shitjustgotreal

That smile you give when you know things others don’t…

  Going on TV to ruin lives like…

Shots fired

When things don’t go according to plan

When you decide to go with the flow

When you ready to throw everyone under the bus

Making empty threats like…

Backstabbing everyone like…

*mic drop*

    Issue 4: Whether Sul Woo and Do Ha’s wrap up made sense.

RedRosette J: Uhhh….I have no idea what to make of these two. They literally had the most childish and unrealistic romance on TV of all the dramas airing these days and to make matters worse, they are probably one of the older couples on TV right now. WTF people??!?! Why are you dating like 12 year olds? What the hell? It’s not funny and cute when its so unrealistic that viewers are like “ughhh just make it stop.” Whatever. I don’t even know what happened at the end; they were together and then he went off on his mission and then he disappeared so does that mean he’s coming back to her or not or what? I hate endings like this. It’s not romantic. Just tell us what happened and put us out of our misery. We suffered through 16 episodes. It’s the least we deserve!

Oh jeez… -_-

What is wrong with you two?

Even this is more romantic than Do Ha

*eyeroll*

*facepalm*

Conclusion: Appeal Dismissed.

Rating: 2 = Yell At The Writers (Seriously. Y’all could have done a much better job. Also yelling at people who made some serious casting errors. *cough* Do Ha *cough*)

File No: Man-to-Man-Eps-15-and-16 (FINAL) Appearing before the Dramacourt: Man to Man Eps 15 and 16. ***If this is your first time browsing The Drama Files, please read The Rules section first for our reviewing and rating system***