#which it had not occurred to us could happen

[romaritimeharbor]

HEARTH FLAME. — In which the Knave's heir decides their fate.

— trigger & content warnings. depictions of injury (& the recovery following it), pain medications and slightly implied impairment of judgment because of them. it isn't really outright though and could honestly be ignored.

— pairings & notes. ambiguous genre; may be considered hurt/comfort. arlecchino & heir!reader. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader is a member of the house of the hearth and is arlecchino's chosen heir. occurs after the events of arlecchino's story quest. 2.1k words.

— author's thoughts. i would say "i swear i'm very normal about arlecchino" but i feel as if we all know that is not true. anyways for those that care about the lore behind this series of fics, i perceive this as the "turning point" in arle & [name]'s relationship in which the latter begins to realize how serious being the knave's heir is. but rn they are delirious on pain meds and do not realize the fate that they have condemned themselves to. yeag

       Lightning struck their body at even the slightest of muscle twitches.

       The bruises on their skin hidden underneath gauze and bandages throbbed with agonizing heat, their insides twisted and churned as their body attempted to repair whatever manner of internal injuries that they had oh-so lovingly been gifted, and their mind begged for restful sleep.

       (No matter how tired they were, ever since they had awoken after being asleep for about a day, they had not been able to fall back asleep again... at least, not in a way that mattered. Their sleep was plagued by nightmares and worries that they could not shake, all concerning the very person who had put them in this condition in the first place. She hadn't come to see them yet. They were certain she would have, but she hadn't.

       Was father... upset? Did they upset her?)

       A soft sigh left their lips as they stared upwards at the ceiling from their bed—even the simple task turning over was nigh impossible, so they dared not attempt anything other than sleep. At least the admittedly rather laborious task of trying to fall asleep did not wrack their body with searing hurt.

       In their spar, Father was neither kind nor easy on them, and they had a sneaking suspicion that she was especially hard on them. Lyney was already standing again and on the move, meanwhile Lynette and Freminet ended up slipping by with relatively minimal injuries, but them? Bedridden, without the slightest hope of being able to stand in the coming hours... or even days, probably. Their legs pulsed at the thought alone.

       ...But they did take the brunt of Father's attacks, so they supposed that was their own fault.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       "I will not sit idly by and watch you bring unfathomable harm to my siblings."

       Standing immovably in front of Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet with their weapon pointedly raised at the very woman who raised them was certainly not how they had anticipated their day going. Nevertheless, they were in that exact situation, and backing down was the last thing on their mind. Lyney seemed to want to say something—to tell them, to warn them, not to be stupid, maybe.

       ...But really, Lyney knew better, and as much as he worried for his sibling's safety, he also knew extremely well how Father was and how they were.

       She would want to see their display of strength, no matter how miniscule in comparison to hers.

       And them—they would not dare let Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet face this alone, even if it meant risking their safety and wellbeing.

       (He also happened to know that his sibling could be a tad too eager to show Father the display of strength she desired, but that was just his own opinion, muddled by his biases and his own desire to protect and care for his siblings. He knew and recognized how his desires played tricks on him, but it did not make him any less bothered by what he liked to think of as his sibling's 'recklessness.')

       Arlecchino's stare threatened to pry apart their soul at its very seams, but they failed to waver. Instead, they firmly returned her stare, albeit with less intensity. Their grip on their weapon tightened.

       The Knave was going to absolutely destroy them, though hopefully not beyond repair.

       They knew that, and they were fine with that. It was an inevitable truth; so be it.

       In the defense of their siblings, they would be more than happy to shed blood—someone else's, or theirs.

       "...I hope you can forgive me, Father."

       In this case, theirs.

             — flower of the universe !! 🌸

       Destroy them, she most certainly did. It wasn't an unexpected outcome. They knew better than to think that they could actually beat her; at least their showing of strength (combined with that of their siblings' and the Traveler's) was enough to compel her to give a kinder execution.

       'Execution.' Hm.

       Execution.

       The word bounced around in their mind for some time as they pondered.

       They weren't quite sure if they saw it that way or not—on one hand, the mind was killed and reborn, but on the other, the body remained alive and unharmed.

       What kind of execution could be so... gentle? So forgiving? None that they had ever heard of. No executions were so tender and compassionate as to preserve the gift of life.

       ...Perhaps that was simply a different kind of execution than what they were used to.

       As their mind wandered, they absentmindedly mused about what their freed siblings were doing.

       'Filliol and Nanteuil... where are you two now?'

       Were they enjoying the sun?

       Hopefully.

       The soft click of a door opening and closing caught their attention, and for a moment they felt extreme relief—finally, someone had come to administer their pain medications... the ache sinking into their bones was about to finish what Arlecchino had begun at this point—but the click of heels that followed made their chest tighten nervously.

       They turned their head slightly to the side. At their bedside stood none other than the Knave herself, an unreadable expression crossing her face when she saw the state they were in.

       Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

       "Father..."

       "My child."

       Arlecchino was quick to drag the stool at the foot of their bed to the side and sit.

       "Father, I—"

       They tried to sit up, grimacing through the pain that clawed across the entirety of their body as they did. The Fourth did not allow them to get far, however, and placed a firm hand on their chest. They had no choice but to settle back down, as the strength she was exerting against them was far too great for them to combat.

       "Do not get up. You will only hurt yourself—"

       "Father—"

       "—And spare yourself the chore of speaking."

       Their mouth closed without another word. All they could do was stare up at her, eyes wide and bewildered and perfectly displaying all the questions they wished to ask (and a bit glazed over due to the combined factors of their exhaustion and the strength of the medication they had been on), though one in particular stood out the most:

       'Why are you here?'

       Maybe the Knave could read their mind.

       (She had no such ability. To know her children and what they were thinking was simply part of her responsibility as Father.)

       "My child," she mused again, this time not in greeting, though she did not continue. Perhaps she was looking for the words. Her fingers gingerly brushed the hair from their face, briefly brushing over the scratch across their forehead.

       Ah.

       One among the many wounds she bestowed upon them a day prior. One of the most mild of her gifts, actually.

       It wasn't regret that washed upon her upon realizing the severity of their wounds in particular—no, they made the choice to join the fight knowing well that she would not be gentle on them or their siblings, and she would argue that regret was a useless emotion only capable of holding one back. What's done was done. It was as simple as that. Regret, much like sorrow, does naught but hold a person back.

       ...Yet, she still felt something, though she struggled identifying what it was.

       Maybe...

       Maybe, now that the Fourth had seen them and the extent of the wounds she delivered, she felt that she had neglected her obligation as Father to visit their bedside in the midst of their healing.

       "I'm sorry."

       Their voice cut through her thoughts. Though they tried their very best to mask it, it wavered almost imperceptibly, the tremble only audible to trained ears—ears like hers. The Fourth Harbinger was not known for being obtruse. She noticed, and they could tell. Nothing ever slipped by her.

       "And what is it that you are apologizing for, exactly?"

       "I... I don't know. I just feel like you're disappointed in me somehow, and I don't know how else to remedy it at the moment."

       'At the moment,' she assumed, meant their current bedridden state.

       "I know not what has given you such an impression. I am not disappointed."

       "...You're not?"

       "Certainly not. If you are referring to your interception of our spar," she began, "defending your family is the most kingly action you could have taken in that moment. In fact, I expected no less of you."

       "I'm not kingly," they replied, offering a weak chuckle as they continued: "At least, I don't feel kingly right now..."

       "Then how is it that you feel?"

       "Pathetic, maybe." They turned their head fully to the side so that they were able to meet her gaze. "I know I can't and probably will never be able to triumph over you in a spar, but—"

       "Perish the thought," Arlecchino dismissed. "Immediately."

       "Huh?"

       Her eyes bore into theirs. This time, much unlike the time they stared at her in battle, they did not feel fear or nervous anticipation of what was to come.

       "You did not win the war," she affirmed, "but I would certainly say you won the battle."

       She leaned closer. With one hand, she brushed the framing hair that normally fell over her cheeks to the side.

       There, a long cut was scabbed over with dry crimson, and suddenly, their heart leapt—whether it was from an odd pride in having been able to actually hit her, or shame and embarrassment that they actually caused harm to Father of all people, they did not know.

       The Knave allowed her hair to fall back into place.

       "Though the odds were stacked against you and yours, you ultimately managed to wound me. This was something that not even your siblings managed to achieve."

       "I could argue that it's only because there were so many of us."

       "Perhaps, but it was still you who caused this wound. I lost track of you for only a moment and you took the opportunity. Progress does not happen overnight, child, and your strength is still growing. One day, you will be the king of this house. You will deliver these kinds of wounds to others, as I have delivered to you." Her gaze shifted to their bedside table. "...That is, if you so desire that life."

       The bottled flame swirled and flared in the vial under her gaze, as if it sought to melt through the glass and lunge, consuming everything in its wake and leaving nothing but ash behind.

       Ah. Right.

       They had almost forgotten that she had also allocated the resources needed to complete her 'execution' to them.

       Silence, heavy with the weight of implication, endured for what seemed to be an eternity.

       Then, they broke it:

       "I do not wish to leave the house."

       Arlecchino would have been perfectly content with letting them free—with snipping away at the webs they were so deeply entangled in, letting the flames cleanse the darkness from their veins, and thereby permitting them to step into the sun.

       And yet... that was not what they wanted.

       Perhaps it was a blend of bewilderment, pride, and annoyance that stirred in her chest.

       What a foolish child they were, refusing freedom when it was so readily within their grasp. They had earned it, and yet they chose to reject it? How foolish, indeed.

       The Fourth's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she gazed down at them.

       "Hm. Is that so?"

       "Yes."

       ...But that foolish child was hers—her child and her successor. Hers, and hers for a reason, for better or worse.

       If all of the Knaves who came before Peruere were not stubborn, then there would be no Knave to begin with. It was, therefore, only right that her heir be as much of a stubborn fool as she.

       Her eyes seemed to soften, if only by a miniscule amount. Arlecchino placed a warm hand over their own, resting idly across their torso, and they hummed, daring to shift and intertwine her fingers with theirs.

       Brief tender moments, always flickering like a dying flame, were rare in the House of the Hearth, especially when permitted or even initiated by Father.

       Thus, they had no problem taking advantage of the situation that they were in, eyes fluttering shut as her warmth oozed into their hand and slowly crawled up their arm. It would soon consume their entire being, but rather than being scorched by it, they were certain that they would be lulled to sleep by it.

       "So be it, then," she murmured, thumb absentmindedly running across their knuckle. "You are a fool."

       A smile. The first that Arlecchino had seen from them in days, in fact, and it seemed to soothe something within her. "I know."

       "Do not disappoint me."

       Her tone cut as sharply as a knife, but they did not appear to mind a single bit; all they could do was smile at her.

       Even when she was threatening them, all they could do was smile.

       "I won't."

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[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Musings: Yuu and Grim, Ace and Deuce and the Overblots

I think if Ace and Deuce never met Grim and Yuu on that faithful day the two wouldn't be friends or even if, they wouldn't be close as they are.

Yuu/MC is kinda like one of the catalyst that made those to friends and which also caused a domino effect that caused Riddle overblot to expedite.

I say expedite because given that Riddle was already carrying his burden long ago and Ace has always been a loud mouth, they'd probably still butt heads but maybe not as fast as it did in the OG story. Ace punching Riddle because of what he said to Yuu ignited the first OB.

In connection with this, I think that all overblots are inevitable.

Riddle due to excessive use of his magic thru collaring people

I'm sure Leona's plan would've still failed one way or another as the Diasomnia gang would not be shaken and Malleus and Lilia are powerful enough to stop a stampede. Leona woud've overblotted still. The difference in the current timeline is Yuu was employed by Crowley to solve the issue, where in turn Ace and Deuce got dragged in, where in turn so too did the Heartslabyul gang and Jack.

Azul? Well everything has its limit, his contracts that serve as a failsafe would probably fail in due time given the sheer number of students he binds with his magic. Maybe later on but since he's a ticking time bomb of self doubt who knows. His OB happened earlier cuz he just happened to mess with Yuu's friends, whom they cared about. A series of shenanigans occur and with that OB Azul being defeated.

Jamil would've still overblotted because even if his plan to throw Kalim is successful, do you think the Asim would let their servant stay in NRC when their master could not? There's consequences to his momentary taste of freedom and its just very sad. This alternative future didn't happen because he used the Prefect in his plans which eventually backfired, hence the current timeline.

Vil already almost cursed Neige, and even if his plan was not thwarted, he did that decision in a state of distress . I argue even if he choose different vdc members he'd still do the same due to the crippling pressure he put on himself. He still would've overblotted. Deuce's unique magic played an important part in defeating Vil's overblot, and the fact that VDC was able to still happen without outsiders knowing the destruction that OB Vil caused (Which would had been bad for Vil's PR) was thanks to Malleus arriving early cuz he got an invitation from Yuu and was eager to be on time.

Idia, has been keeping it all in, all this time. If the 5 other people overblotted earlier whos to say his overblot wouldn't had happen earlier too? Nobody woud've been able to thwart him, not when the dorm leaders at this point had not been saved from their OB. In fact the OB students probably would have been captured by STYX earlier and locked up. Only the possibility of the 5 previous OB being defeated would lead to the event that OB Idia could be defeated too, such which is the current timeline.

Malleus overblot would've happened with Yuu or without Yuu. Lilia would still leave regardless of the narrative and it'll end up the same, except there's no Yuu to assist. Silver could fight, but even in dreams he couldn't do it alone. If Idia wasn't there to assist, if the other students are not there cuz they were taken away by STYX or dropped out, would Silver even have a chance?

If overblot is caused by the exhaustion of one's magic, then what happened would've still happened except with a different ending.

My point is, albeit Yuu/MC and Grim are often in the background and a place holder for the player, they're not entirely "just there". They still move the narrative by simply existing. (Well, they are the main character so ofc they narrative revolves around them)

Yuu and Grim, being with Ace and Deuce, the story forwards itself further because meeting the duo is what resulted to meeting Riddle and all the events happening as is.

Point is, Ace and Deuce are as important as Yuu and Grim.

Anyways,also, I love the YuuVerse and they are far more interesting than just a bystander.

Byeeee

[agenericplaceholdername]

Why Nya and Jay Can Remember Skybound

By the time Jay makes his final wish in Skybound, the realm crystal and Zane’s falcon have been destroyed, PIXAL has been deleted, Lloyd is an old man, large chunks of land have been ripped out of the ground and are poised to fall back onto Ninjago, and Nya is dead. Those last two parts are most important for Jay, the only character with a wish remaining (if you ignore all the Ninja replacements, who never made wishes and conveniently left after the real Ninja returned). Thus, Jay makes his final wish: “I wish you had taken my hand, and no one ever found that teapot in the first place.”

After Jay makes his wish, time is reversed and the Ninja return to where they were in the first episode of the season. The paparazzi is about to find the Ninja and all of them but Nya use airjitzu to hide from the helicopters. Jay asks Nya to take his hand, which she originally rejected, on the basis that, “I can stick up for myself” and “I'm a ninja, and I'm nobody's girl.” However, after Jay’s final wish, Nya uses airjitzu, which she learned over the course of Skybound, and takes Jay’s hand.

While they remember the events of the season: 

“I remember! I remember it all!” – Nya, The Way Back

“Me too!” – Jay, The Way Back

They don’t care how they do:

“But how?” – Jay, The Way Back

“Who cares.” – Nya, The Way Back

I, on the other hand, do care, and that’s what this post will explain. The other Ninja experience some deja vu, but aside from a subtle reference to Skybound in season 8 and a mural depicting the events of the season, indicating that Master Wu (or at least the painters of the monastery) was told, only Jay and Nya actually remember what happened.* Functionally, Skybound is an alternate timeline that never occurred.

This is not the first time Ninjago has dealt with alternate timelines! In Season 2, the Ninja time travel to the past and create an alternate timeline where Nya is kidnapped later on by the Ninja disguised as skeletons, Lord Garmadon from the future fights Kai at the fire temple, and the Ninja use the golden weapons to send the Mega Weapon into space. This timeline is erased when the Mega Weapon is destroyed, with series creator Tommy Andreasen confirming that the only change that the alternate timeline left is that the Mega Weapon ended up in space – the pilots still happened as depicted in 2011. At the end of the episode, the original four ninja remember the events of the episode, along with Garmadon, Nya, and Wu, but not Lloyd, who was not present. Wrong Place, Wrong Time’s time travel is extremely confusing, largely because Lloyd doesn’t just not remember the time travel but also doesn’t remember the Mega Weapon at all.

If the logic of Wrong Place, Wrong Time holds, then only those present for Jay’s last wish should remember it.** That means Jay and Nadakhan, obviously, but also the rest of the Ninja, but crucially, not Nya, since she was dead at the time. Now, perhaps the rest of the Ninja don’t remember, since the wish was between just Jay and Nadakhan, but that still doesn’t explain why Nya remembers Skybound.

Now, perhaps you could explain Nya’s memory as Jay’s wish was about her – Jay wanted Nya to take his hand. And this would work, except that Jay’s wish was also about Clouse. While he’s not named directly, Nadakhan ensures Clouse never finds the Teapot of Tyrahn in the first place.*** Now, if Clouse had remembered Skybound since the wish was about him, then it would have been very straightforward – Clouse would remember that Nadakhan tricked him into wishing it all away and stopped searching for the teapot. Clouse is instead chased off by angry citizens of the Village of Stiix while still searching for the teapot. You could argue that Clouse remembered Skybound but was arrogant enough to keep searching, but there’s zero evidence of this, so while this theory isn’t necessarily wrong, I think there’s another, better explanation that covers why Nya remembers Skybound but Clouse didn’t (Clouse also never mentions this in the Dark Island Trilogy).

The most logical explanation why Nya remembers Skybound is, based on the rules of wishes established in Skybound, love. And no, I’m not talking about how Jay “wished from the heart” so Nya ended up remembering Skybound.**** I find it hard to believe that Jay’s true, heartfelt intention was to make sure that he and Nya remembered events that never occurred. Instead, let’s look at what Jay wanted. He wanted Nya to take his hand and Clouse to not find the teapot. The second half is easy, since Nadakhan is more than capable of altering the actions of others with his wishes – after Jay’s first wish, the mailman comes out of nowhere, and so does Nya after Jay’s second wish.

Theoretically, Nadakhan could override Nya’s free will and have her take Jay’s hand – except for two problems. First, on a metatextual level, this would run totally counter to Nya’s entire message in Skybound, as muddled as it is. Having Nya take Jay’s hand because of a wish would not only undermine the entire point of Jay’s growth over the season (Jay goes from saying “Maybe a wish is what it takes! Maybe this is how she falls for me” in Public Enemy Number One to asking Nya, “Well, what do you want?” in The Last Resort) but also utterly obliterate Nya’s agency, the exact thing she spent the season fighting for. Now, can Ninjago have totally contradictory messages? Of course! Skybound is a case study in mixed messaging on this very issue! But there’s a second, in-universe reason why Nadakhan can’t make Nya take Jay’s hand, and it’s not for the reason that Tommy Andreasen gives, which is that Nya is dead, and Nadakhan can’t control the dead. Nadakhan is more than capable of making dead people do things, since he literally brings Delara back to life earlier on, and he is capable of doing multiple things in one wish, by making Lloyd both older and wiser.

The reason is that you can’t wish for love! This is one of the first things Nadakhan says (“You can’t wish for love, death, or more wishes” – Nadakhan, Infamous). Nya makes it very clear that the reason she won't take Jay's hand is because she doesn’t, or refuses to, love Jay at the start of Skybound. Having her take Jay’s hand because of a wish would mean he wished for love.

However, right before Nya dies, after the whole plot of Skybound has happened, Nya does love Jay, so Nadakhan is not magically making Nya fall in love. Instead, Nya takes Jay’s hand of her own agency, but this can only happen because Nadakhan ensures that Nya remembers the events of Skybound, so that the love that was created naturally, not as a result of wishes, does not go away, and he fulfills Jay’s wish.

Thus, Jay remembers Skybound because he made the wish, Nya remembers Skybound because she needs to to love Jay to take his hand, and Clouse, the other Ninja, and the rest of Ninjago don’t remember it because it never happened.

——————————————————————————————————

*And technically Zane if you include Ninjago: Decoded

**The same time travel logic sort of holds in Lost in Time, where the Ninja in the present are aware of the changing timeline after having been present for the Iron Doom's time travel. That being said, they are also still affected by the changes in the past (Zane reverts to his pre-rebuilt state when Ninjago's advanced technology is undone).

***It would have been very easy to twist that wish into no one having ever found the teapot, that is, Captain Soto would never have found the teapot, but whatever.

****I think it’s possible that Nadakhan didn’t twist Jay’s wish because it was from the heart, but that’s totally unrelated and not based on any actual evidence. The Ninjago wiki seems to think this: "Nadakhan, being hit with the venom and with Jay’s wish being pure, has no choice but to grant it" [emphasis mine].

[wenclairfamily]

My Review of the OFFICIAL Wednesday Novelization

Recently, MGM released an official novelization that re-tells the events of Wednesday Season 1. What makes this novelization most notable is that it is told in the FIRST PERSON from Wednesday's perspective. Thus, you are getting the chance to relive the entire first season inside of Wednesday's mind this time.

On one hand, this provides great insights into Wednesday's character, and provides some explanation for certain moments in the show that I originally thought didn't need to be explained. For example, the piranhas Wednesday unleashed early in the first episode... we now know she was able to get them from a pet shop owner after black mailing him with information she had about him and his secret mistress. It makes an already dark moment in the show even more dark, and I love it!

However on the other hand, I sort of enjoyed how in the show: we had to guess what Wednesday was thinking just by looking at Jenna Ortega's face. I think it was way more fun at times to imagine what was going through Wednesday's mind, versus knowing with certainty what she was thinking. Additional criticisms I also have include how the book uses very little of Wednesday's actual narration from the show, and the bizarre choice of skipping certain scenes of the series, while over explaining in details other scenes (including a few short moments Wednesday wasn't even present at).

However all these flaws are made up for with the fascinating insights into how Wednesday views Enid. To be clear, this book does NOT say Wednesday has a romantic interest in Enid. However... Wednesday's first person narration does have Wednesday slowly admit to herself that she does view Enid as her best friend... although Wednesday also admits that is by default, because she also considers Enid her only friend (with characters such as Eugene, Bianca, and Xavier only being described as allies). Throughout the later half of the book, Wednesday also describes herself as missing Enid whenever she's not around, even talking about how she misses the bright colors she wears.

Also, while the book for the most part does not contradict what happened in the show... there is one small retcon the book throws in. As Wednesday wishes to grow closer to Enid, she wishes to find some way she can better relate to Enid, and give them both something in common they can talk about. Since Enid now has a boyfriend, Wednesday (according to her first person narration) decides to try a romantic relationship with Tyler (so that she and Enid can grow closer due to both having boyfriends now). So according to the book... in her own weird way... Wednesday kissed Tyler as a way to get closer to Enid... which I think is a BRILLIANT RETCON!

So while the book is a bit uneven at times (and likely could have used one more rewrite), and does eliminate much of the unspoken subtext that occurred during scenes in the show... it still is a fascinating novel. The insights into how Wednesday's brain thinks is very entertaining and imaginative at times; including fun new dark jokes Charles Addams himself would be proud of. I would not recommend casual fans or people that have never seen show read this book... but for hardcore fans (and fanfiction writers that need some new inspiration on how to write Wednesday): this is definitely worth your time.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

September 20th

I opened today’s entry thinking I knew what to expect, but apparently I did not:

Report from Patrick Hennessey, M. D., M. R. C. S. L. K. Q. C. P. I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M. D.

A bit of humour in the darkest of nights. And what a power move! I love that even minor characters are given such vivid personalities!

With regard to patient, Renfield, there is more to say. He has had another outbreak, which might have had a dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended with any unhappy results.

This is what I mean! Look how this man writes. Completely redundant. He has a unique “voice” and I love it!

I went down to see if I could make out any cause for his anger, since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except his violent fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred.

I’m starting to think every staff member has a death wish.

It was, I am sorry to say, however, only another instance of his cunning, for within half an hour I heard of him again. This time he had broken out through the window of his room, and was running down the avenue. I called to the attendants to follow me, and ran after him, for I feared he was intent on some mischief.

YA THINK?????

Also, what was I saying about safety protocols the other day?

The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the head with the butt-end of his heavy whip. It was a terrible blow; but he did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am no light weight, and the others were both burly men.

IT’S WORKING!!!!! The DYI vampirism is working!!! Mark me down as scared and strangely proud.

The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for damages, and promised to rain all the penalties of the law on us. Their threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology for the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if it had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack, and swore that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so 'bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I took their names and addresses, in case they might be needed.

Efficient crisis management. Have a sticker 🦇

Now onto the regularly scheduled horrors…

Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry to-night. I am too miserable, too low-spirited, too sick of the world and all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death.

About that —

And he has been flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late—Lucy's mother and Arthur's father, and now.... Let me get on with my work.

Oh so it’s official! Arthur’s father has passed! What a month!

Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said; "come with me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much mental pain, as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You must not be alone; for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. Come to the drawing-room, where there is a big fire, and there are two sofas. You shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep."

That is very sweet.

There was a full moonlight, and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat, which wheeled round—doubtless attracted by the light, although so dim—and every now and again struck the window with its wings.

Hold on hold on hold on. I think Jack might be on to something here.

So far, we’ve seen Dracula target Jonathan and Lucy specifically and relentlessly. Yes, he also attacked the crew of the Demeter, but that was out of necessity (being stuck in the middle of the ocean with no other source of food) rather than choice; and he doesn’t want to feed on Renfield, who is older and “feeble” both physically and mentally.

So he is attracted to the light, metaphorically: to young people who are full of life and love. Because that’s what he lacks. Argh.

It was certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her; but that when she waked she clutched them close.

🥺😔

"She is dying. It will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark me, whether she dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and let him come and see the last; he trusts us, and we have promised him." […]

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Helsing had, with his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered softly:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!" He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No," he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand; it will comfort her more."

Say what you want about Van Helsing (SISTER), he’s showing incredible amounts of compassion in this chapter.

In a sort of sleep-waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and said in a soft, voluptuous voice, such as I had never heard from her lips:—

"Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come! Kiss me!" Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her; but at that instant Van Helsing, who, like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and actually hurled him almost across the room.

"Not for your life!" he said; "not for your living soul and hers!" And he stood between them like a lion at bay.

The next few entries are going to be fun.

Their eyes met instead of their lips; and so they parted.

Ouch.

"Ah, well, poor girl, there is peace for her at last. It is the end!"

He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity:—

"Not so; alas! not so. It is only the beginning!"

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered:—

"We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."

A heads up would be nice!!!

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[milehighmegs]

The Window Theory

This is kind of a two-parter, and a bit long and circular, but it all connects, so just bear with me 😁

So, I just finished my 42598302621827732263435th re-watch of S2E6. When Beez says, "I just found something more important than taking sides," and she & Gabe join hands, Zira touches Crowley's arm. Ya know, this touch:

Look at Zira's face. I think, maybe- just MAYBE- Zira finally realizes that this is what Crowley's been talking about every time he's said, "our side." He reaches out to Crowley, but because he can't actually speak at that moment, it's his way of saying, "Oh my god. I get it now. I completely understand." And if you watch a bit longer, when Crowley walks away to take Nina & Maggie out of the shop, he keeps reaching for Crowley (couldn't find a GIF of it, but it's there). Almost like he's saying, "oh, oh yes, we are going to have a VERY good talk when this is all wrapped up."

There's also an element of "we're not the only ones," and "maybe, if the Supreme Archangel of Heaven can fall for the Grand Duke of Hell, this isn't as bad as I've been telling myself it is." If Gabelzebub haven't been- smote? smited? smitten- by God or devoured by Satan for falling in love (and not being coy or secretive about it), maybe Zira is FINALLY ready to actually be with Crowley, in the open, and without fear.

But we all know what happened after that.

Yes, Metatron is a bastard. But (and this is just a bit of a theory here) in telling Zira that he (Metatron) knew about the "de facto partnership" with Crowley, and then later about the Second Coming, he gave the whole game away**. Zira thought that Heaven wasn't watching all that closely. And maybe they weren't, right up until the two of them thwarted the Nopocalypse, but looked into the records and found out what they'd been up to for millennia. What Zira knows now is that not only are they aware of it, they are fully prepared to use it as a threat against him, but more so against Crowley. At that moment, however, that's all he knows. Metatron didn't mention the plans for the Second Coming until after The Kiss™. So after accepting Metatron's offer and desperately trying to convince Crowley to come with him and failing, but before the Jesus 2.0 bomb, Zira is visibly shaken (I mean, I would be too if I had just accepted that I COULD be with the love of my life, then got kissed like THAT by them, only to be broken up with right after they told me that they felt we'd been together all along). He didn't have a plan to protect Crowley. He didn’t think he needed one because he was so sure that his offer to go to Heaven would be accepted. He figured it was a given, knowing & understanding now that Crowley wanted to be with him, and part of the reinstatement of Crowley as an angel would facilitate that.

Now that Crowley has refused, Zira doesn't know what to do. He didn't have a backup plan. And he still, at that point, doesn't really know what Metatron needs him for. It's why he hesitates to leave at first. For the first time since The Arrangement, he doesn’t have a partner. He's alone, trying to figure things out, trying to find some way, ANY way, to make this work. He keeps looking out the window, ostensibly at Crowley, but... did you notice that we're never actually shown WHAT he's looking at? I have a feeling we'll find out in S3 what it is, but for now, he's flustered, anxious, and of course still reeling from what had just happened. He looks out the window a second time, and just, like... suddenly snaps out of it. We can tell, as the audience, that there's a lot of game face happening here, because we know Zira: we know his mannerisms, his moods, his reactions to certain things. And we also know he's smart. But I digress.

Something occurs to him (or he sees something out the window), which is why he suddenly feigns detachment and goes with Metatron. The wheels start to churn, but only insofar as it has to do with protecting Crowley. When the Second Coming plans for Supreme Archangel Aziraphale are dropped, everything changes. EVERYTHING. He suddenly realizes that the whole purpose of the offer, and the chance to take Crowley with him, was a trap. Metatron knew Crowley would refuse, and having made the threat, he knew Zira wouldn’t refuse. Zira understands the offer’s true purpose was to separate them so that they couldn't prevent another apocalypse. So now, not only is Crowley's life at risk, but Earth is once again under the threat of annihilation, and he doesn't have the one person he's always been able to rely on to help him prevent it. He goes with Metatron because he knows it's the only thing he can do to protect Earth AND his beloved.

That one last look at Crowley... I don't know, maybe something had passed between them through the window that we don't yet know about. Maybe Zira just had a sudden realization that had nothing to do with what he was looking at (perhaps the bullet catch mentioned below**?). Whatever the case, hearing about Armagedd-it's-back-on was a seismic shift in his attitude. You can see it in his demeanor: he’s no longer flustered, no longer searching for answers, no longer anxious about what happens next. In short, SHIT JUST GOT REAL. Because of this, Zira has to once again think fast, but keep Crowley in the dark, and get to work. That ride up in the elevator was spent hatching the most clever, most ingenious, dare I say the most devilish plan the Universe has ever seen. He is really and truly on OUR side now, the side that he & Crowley had been on for millennia, the side he was no longer pretending to NOT be on, the side that he finally stepped into with perfect love and perfect trust. With no way to tell Crowley about the Second Coming and therefore what he was planning, it seems like he chose Heaven over love. But he didn't. He did choose Crowley, but he also chose Earth, and in reality, he chose "us." It's just going to have to wait.

**If you wanna go really deep with this, the whole reason for the bullet catch episode was to mirror Furfur’s threat with the Metatron’s, and Furfur also revealed the plan too soon (I think there’s also another reason for this episode, details below). Like a bad Bond villain, they were too cocky. In 1941, Zira was able to think fast, palm the photo, and protect him & Crowley. But note that he didn’t tell Crowley what he was doing (there was neither time nor opportunity); Crowley only found out after the fact, when they were having dinner later. Zira protected "us" even then because only hours before, he realized that he loved Crowley and (I'm pretty sure) that Crowley loved him back. At the time, however, he didn't think anything could come of it. But that touch in the bookshop... that's when he knew. So when Metatron made the offer, there was no need to protect anything because he thought Crowley would come back to Heaven. Since that went down like a lead balloon, Zira is left helpless & scrambling. Then that look out the window... I think Zira remembered the bullet catch. That silent "trust me." The “aim for my mouth then shoot past my ear.” The diversion tactic. Again, until the Second Coming plans are revealed, Zira only plans to find a way to protect Crowley in secret. When the stakes rise, Zira ups his game. THAT’S the reason for the changing looks on his face on the elevator ride. THAT’s what the smile is about. He’s doing the calculations, setting up the illusion, perfecting the con. And just like the magic act he & Crowley pulled when they saved Job’s children, just like when Crowley seemed to be the random volunteer to pull the trigger, Zira knows his partner will be there to help him pull it off one more time. Even if it means leaving him, leaving him in the dark once again.

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[forcedhesitation]

why should it just be steve who has all the torturous purgatory realm fun?

[dragonji]

its time for yet another brain game of am i like fully neurotic or was this genuinely not a cool situation . prize is jack shite and yet im playing anyways👍

[a-soft-fluffy-girl]

TL;DR: Steam just made library sharing so much fucking easier and so much fucking better. Instead of login-trading, it's just a simple goddamn invite.

Read this. Really. It's a good read. Because it shows that, full-stop, Valve isn't just doubling down on their stance to make sure that people can and should be able to share their copies of digital goods as easily as they can physical ones, but they're making it better and easier than ever.

But you know how Steam allowed you to, with either friends or family, link accounts with another person to be able to establish an ability to share game libraries with one another? The general gist of Steam Family Sharing was that, with a limit of five people plus you (six in total) on a limit of ten computers total could share account access to willingly mix your libraries. You could play theirs. They could play yours.

This was a huge boon. It was meant to emulate sharing a physical copy of a game. A way to allow children to play games their parents or siblings had bought without having to fork over double the cash to buy it a second game. But it had some major limitations and drawbacks, and was archaic to use.

If a person did not share the same computer, you had to manually log into that computer to give it and the accounts on it access. This wouldn't be a problem if both accounts were used on the same computer, but many households (and astronomically more family and friend groups) had multiple computers, all used by different people.

If that computer, at any point, was hard reset to any point before the sharing occurred, you lost access. And had to do the whole process again. This was also an issue with computer transfers. The whole kit and kaboodle needed to be redone on upgrades. On top of that, the old computer is now just dead weight that you may not realize you have to manually revoke access to.

Putting your account information on another person's computer opens up security issues. They could, intentionally or accidentally, land themselves on your account if the login information was stored. Which could easily lead to purchases or bans you did not want to happen.

If anyone was, at any point, playing any game on their own library, you had no access to their games. Even if it was a totally different game, you had to wait your turn as if waiting for their computer to be freed up to sit at. (Admittedly this is kind of like the "mom said it's my turn on the xbox" meme, but hey, kinda archaic.)

You could not choose whose library you accessed a game from. Not at all. It always prioritized the first library it gained access from, DLC access and multiplayer be damned. If another friend you were accepting games from had more DLC? Too bad.

And yet here we are. Steam Families Beta fixes EVERYTHING about the above issues. By just going through Settings > Interface > client Beta Participation and clicking onto Steam Families Beta? You get:

No more login sharing. No more computer links. You can now choose which person's library you borrowed from. And you can play any other game from someone's library, even while they're in-game. It just needs to be a different game than what they're playing.

Pick five people. Invite them to your family. And now everyone has access to everyone's library. My goddamn library went from 150-ish to almost a goddamn thousand in ten minutes of setup.

Account sharing and password sharing are dirty words that "lose" billions of dollars. Netflix, Hulu, Amazon, Max. They aren't game storefronts, but they still allow you to access massive libraries and scream like you murdered their firstborns for daring to share your password with your mother after you moved out.

Microsoft tried pushing to demonize and undercut used games sales and borrowed copies of physical games. Remember the first attempt to reveal the Xbox One? People forget, but these vultures tried to make an always online console that checked to see if you were the account that owned the game, even if you had a physical disc, and prevent access to the disc's contents if you weren't the original downloader.

Valve walked the fuck up. Valve tapped the mic. And Valve dropped the fucking thing right onto the ground with one feature's revamp.

About the only issues I can see with this are twofold:

If someone sharing your library gets banned from a game's servers... so do you. No one else in the family does, but the both of you do. This is... rather unpleasant, because banhammers can be dropped quite frequently by mistake. I'd urge Valve to rethink this one, but I see the logic: don't cheat and effectively bite the hand feeding you. Still making me side-eye that, though.

If you leave a family you've joined? You have to wait a YEAR to join a new one. It's to prevent people form jumping ship to another group and screwing over who's in the former one in the process, but a YEAR? OUCH.

Problems aside, though... it's probably the biggest fucking power move I have ever seen a media distributor make in the current economic climate. It's the kind of thing that would let so many new games be available in a way that's easier than ever. Just a few clicks to send or accept an invite, and bam. Permanent access to dozens or even hundreds of new games with so much more freedom than earlier drafts of the system.

It's the kind of thing that slaps you in the face with positivity after so many Ls from the games and media industries. And I'm all the fuck for a W like this.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.

and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.

...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.

see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.

while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.

especially if the president of the united states is on board.

yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.

and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."

but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.

...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.

not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.

yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.

but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[kykyonthemoon]

Breakfast

You knew he was dangerous. You knew that you should stay away. But when you found Sylus in the kitchen, making breakfast, he reminded you of what happened between the two of you the night before and you comprehended you had made a bargain with the devil, again.

── .✦ Sylus x Female Reader|MC

── .✦ Tags: R16, MDNI, suggestive themes, biting & marking, drunken kissing & flirting, hangover, pet name - kitten.

── .✦ Word count: 2k3

── .✦ A/N: This story is based on a dream I had after watching the new patch stream on July 6.

This fic also won the Merit Prize from Love and Deepspace Version 2.0 Opposing Visions | Fan Art Contest. I really appreciate all your support on my X <3

── .✦ Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

You awoke in the midst of a haze. You had a vague impression that the blanket was both warm and soft, with a subtle aroma that you had only of late learnt to recognize. You tossed and turned, sliding back and forth on the enormous bed, unable to see the edge. When you rolled your entire body to the opposite side of the bed, you saw that the vacant area was still quite warm.

As if woken, you rose up, brushing aside the matted hair that had fallen in front of your face. Your body felt painful and exhausted. Your head continued whirling. You realized you were wearing a black shirt that was too large for your size. The aroma on the garment was comparable to the position next to you on the bed. You grabbed your head, trying to recall why you were here in the first place.

Sylus' exquisite chamber emerged before your eyes in the gentle dawn light. You blinked. That's right! You had attended an important party, with Sylus' help, the night before. Rather, it was another in a long line of similar deals between you and him, with an unexpected cost. You got what you wanted, but the amount of liquor you drank there left you disoriented. The party ended with you lying in Sylus' arms, seeing him smirk as he looked down at you and said:

“Such a kitten who never knows when to stop.”

Then everything went dark. You could only barely feel Sylus' strong arms wrapping around your body, as well as the warm blanket that surrounded you before you fell asleep.

But as for why you slept in Sylus' room, wearing his shirt…

You tumbled out of bed and walked into the bathroom to wash your face. Cold water helped you become awake. You then glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your hair, which had been pulled up high with several decorations, was entirely removed and fell down. Aside from the shirt you wore, you had immense and tiny red markings all over your body, from your lips and chin, down to your neck and chest. You used extra water to wash your face in an attempt to remove all of those marks, but it simply made them appear more vibrant on your skin.

Your fingertips traced each mark. This one brought to mind an image of Sylus burying his face in your neck. The mark on your ear reminded you of how softly he bit you. There were also marks on your wrists from the force he used to pin you down on the bed.

You exhaled. Memories were slowly returning to you, and they concerned you. You were not terrified of Sylus; rather, you were afraid of the situation you had created the night before. You cautiously opened the door, as if you were afraid that someone was waiting outside to catch you in this kind of situation.

You intended to return to your room, where Sylus had allowed you to remain temporarily while you were here. But after only a few steps, the scent from the kitchen caused your feet to shift direction.

The aroma of breakfast being served made your tummy grumble. But when you heard the faint humming and saw his enormous back obstructing your view of the food, you turned and walked away.

"Kitten is awake now. Wouldn't you come in for breakfast?"

You halted. You did not want to see him immediately after what occurred the night before, but perhaps he had been waiting for you to get up since dawn.

When you returned to the kitchen, Sylus faced you. He wore a crimson and black silk nightshirt. It was not tight, revealing his bare chest, which you were unable to keep your gaze away from since there were several red marks going from his chest deep down to his stomach, even some on his neck. There were other ones that appeared to be scratches.

Knowing where your eyes were focused on, Sylus smirked. Seeing that, your face grew crimson and felt hot, as if you were being cooked on the stove. You instantly looked away, attempting to act normal.

“Good morning… Did you… sleep well?…”

Sylus pulled the bacon off the heat source. Based on the ingredients on the counter, you assumed he was cooking Eggs Benedict. He answered you sarcastically:

“I did not sleep well at all. Since there was a kitten who loved to scratch me so much."

“What kitten?” You claimed to be ignorant in the face of evidence that showed you had slept in Sylus' bed the night before, and were responsible for the markings on his body.

How did things end up like that? You opposed Sylus. And he was just brilliant at driving you insane. He was dangerous. He stood on the other side of the battle. Even if working together with him was simply a temporary solution for both of your concerns, rolling around in bed together and leaving markings on the other's skin was utterly beyond your expectations. You softly bit your lower lip, condemning yourself for allowing things to spiral out of control. While Sylus only grinned casually:

“And yet I thought that the girl who had the courage to pin me down on the bed and leave her marks on my body would have the courage to admit what she did?”

At the moment, you did not know how to face this with as little disruption as possible. Of course, Sylus would not let you escape so quickly. You wanted to go home and keep your distance from him.

“I… am not sure I did what I did on purpose.” You responded. The current circumstance was not good at all, for you. You attempted to remain cool and added: "Besides, don't you have the ability to heal yourself?"

Sylus stared down at his body, then back at you, the corner of his mouth curled up again as if he had just done something sinister.

“Of course I have to leave evidence, in case you deny it like you are doing now.”

You were briefly perplexed and failed to say anything else. Then you suddenly realized you were also his victim. You stepped up to him at the kitchen counter and pointed to your neck.

“What about these? They are also evidence against you!”

Sylus laughed. His warm fingers on your skin sent a shiver down your spine. It was a feeling that, although not inherently awful, was exceedingly treacherous. Treacherous as you began to like it.

"A mark for a mark." Sylus teased you. His fingers traveled to the back of your neck, and the index finger rested on your chin, softly separating your lips and pushing you to gaze up at him. "If you believe it is a crime, what would you do? Lock me up, Miss Gorgeous Hunter? After you took advantage of me to get into that party, got very drunk, and vomited all over the dress I purposely chose for you? After I brought you back here, and you continued to take advantage of my body in that manner?”

You hastily pushed Sylus' hand away. “I was drunk, you were too… It was simply an accident… Can we make it clear?”

Sylus snorted coldly and turned away. The poached eggs required his attention. You did not recall or were acting like that. The previous night, you were the only one who had been drinking.

After the party, Sylus took you home. He had meant to let you relax, but as soon as you went by his private room, you freely opened the door and walked in.

“This is not your room, kitten.”

But you did not listen. You removed your high heels and flung them at Sylus. Then you began wandering back and forth in his room, as if you were searching for his secrets.

Sylus clicked his tongue and stood with his arms folded, waiting to see what you would do. He had to catch you after seeing you stumble around and collide with things in the room. He sat you on the sofa, unlocked the wardrobe, chose a clean shirt of his and threw it on the seat next to you.

“Get changed. Don't dirty my room anymore."

You grinned and took up his shirt to examine it for a moment. Then you tossed it back to him. 

"Help me..."

Sylus rolled his eyes at you before focusing on the clothing in his hand. You rose up, stumbled closer to him, and turned away, pointing at the back zipper of the garment. 

"Help me get changed." You repeated.

Sylus slightly raised the corners of his lips. He slowly pulled the zipper down. Since your body was constantly moving back and forth, his fingertips came into contact with your bare back. You chuckled. While looking at you from behind, he quietly placed the part of his finger that just touched you on his lips and chuckled.

“Be still.”

After helping you get out of your dirty dress, Sylus put his shirt on you, turned you around and helped button it. He did not dispute that while you were displaying your stunning features to him, his gaze lingered on your body for longer than was appropriate. You were simply wearing a set of undergarments beneath his shirt. His hands paused on the final two buttons, debating whether or not to assist in concealing your lovely cleavage behind that shirt.

You grabbed Sylus' wrists and gazed up at him. His throat became dry. You said while drowsy:

“Bed… I want your bed…”

You gestured in that way. His bed was obviously much larger and softer than the one in your room. Sylus drew a breath and bent down to lift you up in his arms. He brought you to the bed and placed you down. 

"You have asked for so much today. Aren't you concerned you won't be able to pay the price?"

“I… can pay!” You boldly declared. As soon as Sylus rose up to depart, you grabbed his arm and pushed him down onto the bed. 

So you started kissing him.

It could not be denied that there were times, many times, during the party that night, you longed to drag him to a corner and kiss his lips until he suffocated. Or you. Either one of you.

How that night ended was still something you could not remember. When you stood in the kitchen with Sylus the next morning with rosy cheeks and body covered in kiss marks left by him, feelings of regret and guilt began to engulf you. You started it first, and Sylus gladly granted your wishes. How long had you been intending to get closer to him? You could not believe why, in a moment of rashness, you could make such a severe mistake. It was not like you were not aware of who the person you pinned down on the bed was or how dangerous he was.

“I… You…” You hesitated. “I really— Ouch!”

Before you could continue speaking, you felt Sylus lift you up and set you on the kitchen counter. His hands were positioned on both sides of your thighs, and his body was forced against you, making it hard for you to escape.

"Stop trying to deny it." His crimson eyes glowed as if he were sulking. Your throat dried up and your mouth became silent when he got this close. Your gaze remained fixated on Sylus' lips, unwilling to leave. He said:

“Let me tell you what happened last night. You kissed me. You scratched me. Then you fell into a deep slumber. As for me, I remained awake since my bed was occupied and I was held and weighed down all night long."

You breathed a sigh of relief, seeming to be at ease and disappointed. Between Sylus and you, nothing had escaped your control or the approval of your rational mind. You might perceive what happened the night before as a mistake that could be fixed. Yet all of a sudden, Sylus' grasp on your hip tightened, and his other hand curled around the back of your head, forcing you to lean back slightly. He gazed at you with a mysterious smile on his lips, making you feel as if you had just fallen into a tangle from which you could not escape.

“Are you going to remain silent and ignore your responsibilities? I still have the evidence on me. You cannot deny that you want me. Yes? No?"

When you regained consciousness, you understood exactly what should and should not be done. Even that was unable to prevent you from thinking about how you fell into Sylus' arms and how he would never turn you down. Given the kiss marks and scratches you left on his body that were visible, how badly must you have yearned for him that night? How about the time before that? And for the time being? Sylus' charm had you wrapped around his fingers. This feeling might be fleeting or it could last forever. It terrified you and left you unsteady. But if Sylus was down in that deep void, you were willing to plunge in, as long as he was there to catch you. 

Sylus learnt he had won the instant he noticed your yearning eyes. He grinned as separated your lips again, asking:

“My precious lady, what price do you wish to pay this time?”

You assumed that in this trade, you would not be at a disadvantage. You deliberately leant towards Sylus, gently biting his lips before pulling away to await his reaction.

Satisfied with your answer, Sylus smirked. His fingers caressed your bottom lip before pushing forward to devour it in the way he had craved since he had ever found you.

[inkskinned]

okay if you're really cool about things, i can be honest with you. before you read further, decide if you're a girl's girl. if you're cool and actually cool or like not cool.

men don't talk in my book because i was fuckken tired of the way they're the center of every fucking story. i was tired of how every story takes a moment to let them talk. men can shut up for literally one fucking book.

unfortunately not everyone is cool. professionally what i usually say is i didn't want to add violence to the world. the only men in my book are abusers, so they don't get to talk. they don't get to take up space. they ruined my life, they don't get to have their words echo anymore.

because like, yeah! you find practically any story about a person surviving trauma and... there's a man at the center. men are often rescuing us from these things. a "good man" is always standing around, being a good man, proving to the victim that good men are the real men. that her experience was unique rather than universal.

the redacted text has not been taken well by all of my early readers. there is this weird, crouching growl that keeps occurring with men-of-a-certain-age. why don't we hear his side of the story?

when i sat down to write everything that happened to me, i couldn't look at the frank brutality of my abuser's words on a page and think to myself: i actually let him speak like that. i had to redact his words from the manuscript. i then left it redacted. no victim is going to read this book and hear the person who hurt them. it is a book for the victims to speak. abusers shut up challenge, forever. for eternity.

my father once told me, chuckling, i should just have a page of redaction where i let the man just finally talk. it is funny to joke about how we should make a whole page in my book about a man that hurt me. this was not the only time someone commented - it feels like you're hiding things. how do i know you're actually a victim if he doesn't get to speak?

there are books where women aren't even present. i even genuinely like some of those books. like, who doesn't like the hobbit?

i keep running into people defending this imaginary man. the default narrative is so true to some people that they will defend any man, just by virtue of the assumption - "if he's acting like that, you had to push him." certain people need definitive proof that you didn't accidentally make your partner into an abuser. they need to decide if you deserved it, because they want to be able to judge you.

which makes sense, i guess, from a hind brain perspective. if you can figure out "why" someone was cruel, you can protect yourself against it. if you defend the bully, the bully might side with you. i don't really know their explanation for feeling this about a character in a book. trust me, i wrote the guy. he is not going to protect you.

i guess i just - there was a time in my life where i desperately wanted anyone to defend me. where i could have really used someone saying holy shit are you okay instead of what did you say to make him act like that to you.

instead, over dinner, a friend-of-a-friend i just met is pouring herself wine. i heard you wrote a book, she says. she gives me the kind of chilly smile i associate with knives. i heard it's unfair to men.

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[zephyrchama]

(Mentions/descriptions of minor injuries, present and past.)

“There, all good.”

“Thanks, Satan.”

Your leg looked much better now that it had been disinfected and bandaged. Not that it was in bad shape to begin with.

Anyone would have thought a dire medical emergency occurred by the way everybody had leaped into action when you fell. Six of the brothers somehow managed to carry you together - one for each limb and another two on the sides to support your back - because they couldn’t pick just one person to help you back to the classroom.

It was incredibly embarrassing. You closed your eyes to avoid making eye contact with any of the other students, but you still heard the hallway whispers and Thirteen’s loud laughter.

Once back inside, Lucifer immediately evacuated his seat behind the podium at the front of the room. You were placed down like a precious glass ornament. Each brother played a different role in patching you up, but you would have been fine on your own.

“This cut kind of reminds me of one I got as a kid.” You twisted your leg around a few times to look it over. “It’s in the same spot.”

Mammon leaned against the back of the chair and grabbed your shoulders. “Are you tellin’ me you cut your leg before?”

“…yes?”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Beelzebub frowned.

Satan nodded thoughtfully, hand on chin, “you’ve never told us this before.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I just remembered it.” It happened so long ago that you completely forgot.

Asmodeus buried his face in his hands. “How could you be so irresponsible?”

“I was a kid! Kids get scrapes all the time. I probably got it the same way, too.”

“You fell? Well… At least it didn’t scar.”

“Asmo, how d’ya know that?” Mammon asked.

“Because I know every inch of their skin very intimately.” Asmodeus smirked.

Mammon gripped your shoulders tighter. “Ok! Well! So do I!” he growled.

Leviathan came to sit on the floor next to you, looking worried. He fiddled with your pants leg to make sure the hem wouldn’t roll down over your bandage. “So there were other times you got hurt as a kid?”

“I mean, yeah? Bruised my arm pretty badly one time, right here.” You pointed to the spot.

“How come you never told us?” Belphegor asked. He was craning his head up to look at you while laying on the table, which Lucifer hadn’t noticed until that moment. The eldest gave him a push.

Belphegor muttered some choice words and slunk off to get a chair of his own, which he relocated closer to you. It screeched loudly as he dragged it along the floor. Beelzebub just stared and the others flinched, but Satan and Lucifer looked ready for violence until the youngest finally plopped down.

“We’re supposed to know everything about you,” he stated.

“Since when?”

“Since forever,” Leviathan was quick to clarify. “You have to tell us everything, and don’t spare any details.” His sentence ended there, but you swear you heard “the lore…” whispered almost imperceptibly.

“You better not be holdin’ back on us.” Mammon shifted a bit. He appeared to be getting tired of standing, but didn’t want to give up his prime real estate by your side.

“So I have to tell you everything? Like… when a butterfly poked me in the eye?”

A couple of them winced.

“Did it hurt?” Asmodeus asked.

“Did you tear it apart?” Belphegor asked.

“No, I think I was more shocked than anything? Maybe a little? And no!” You glanced down. “Levi, stop taking notes about me.”

Leviathan tutted and swiped out of the notes app on his D.D.D..

These demons and their theatrics. You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re all just overreacting, as usual.”

Satan shook his head. “No, I think you’re under-reacting. There are lots of dangers to humans in the Devildom. You could have gotten a nasty infection.”

Asmodeus gasped, “you could have lost your leg!”

”Or attracted predators,” Beelzebub added.

“On school grounds? Please. At worst I’d only attract Mephisto sniffing around for a scoop for his newspaper.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. You had faith he was going to say something sensible. “At least this isn’t as bad as that time you bruised your rear in the bath.”

There were seven scandalized gasps, including your own. “I told you that in confidence!”

Mammon was yelling in your ear, “how come I wasn’t the first to know about this? Hah?”

Asmodeus lept forward, “show me where!”

“Is it still there?” Satan inquired.

“Do you not trust us anymore?” Beelzebub looked deflated.

“That’s not it, Beel, I just- ack, Levi!” You shouted and shook your bandaged leg as the third-born clung to it desperately.

“It wasn’t my bathtub, right?” he practically sobbed. “Aahhh, I knew I needed to fill it with more pillows. Ahhhh.”

“Why would they be anywhere your tub?” Belphegor took hold of Levi’s collar and wretched him back. By the way he fell, it wouldn’t be odd for Leviathan to get a butt bruise, too.

“If it happened in your room, you would have been there,” you assured, knowing this would start another round of arguing.

The bell signaling next period mercifully rang. You’d never been happier for class to start again. All that was left was to get to your usual seat, which you stood up to do.

“Woah, whaddya think you’re doing?” Mammon put an arm in front of you.

“Going to my seat…?”

“You’re in it, sit back down.” Lucifer said.

You hesitated, giving them a puzzled look. For a moment you considered running past them. A simple cut wouldn’t hold you back, but there were no scenarios where you could outrun them without magic. You narrowed your eyes and sat down as the seven surrounded you again. You got a bad feeling.

“Just make it quick.”

Other students were already starting to filter into the room. You didn’t particularly want to be seen being relocated by these overly doting brothers. You grabbed the edge of the seat as four of them lifted it up, with the others griping about there being insufficient space for them to grab hold anywhere.